Sestina

Sestina

I try to write my poem
But the muse has again deserted me
And so I stare blankly at the white page
Wishing I understood how to create
Beauty and tears, or howling mad laughter
With just a few, well-chosen flowing words

I’m bright, I know lots of words
But it’s hard work to make them a poem
And much harder to cause peals of laughter
Unless it’s something stupid about me
Idiocy, I don’t need to create
That nonsense writes itself onto the page

I’m starting to fill the page
Counting the syllables in all the words
Of the Sestina I want to create
It’s a bloody tricky sort of poem
I’m worried that the effort will drive me
To a breakdown and mad, manic laughter

So far there is no laughter
Just slowly adding more thoughts to the page
And noticing it’s become about me
And less and less about the chosen words
That build up this migraine of a poem
That I so stupidly want to create

But it’s the urge to create
And feeling the need to inspire laughter
That makes me want to write this weird poem
Awkwardly trying to fill up the page
With lots more and even cleverer words
To hide the shy, insecure inner me

I said it was about me!
This bizarre thing I’m trying to create
Going round and round in circles of words
Failing to make it funny for laughter
But there’s a certain beauty on the page
And the complexity of the poem

For me, as good as laughter
Is when I can create, can write a page
Foolish words that end up as a poem

 

August 2023

Repeated words
1 Poem
2 Me
3 Page
4 Create
5 Laughter
6 Words

Order
123456; 615243; 364125; 532614;
451362; 246531; 2-5, 4-3, 6-1.

Rhythm
7 syllables for the first line in each stanza
10 syllables every other line.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Phone

Phone (A trio of Triolets)   I wanted to tell you the lights had changed But you were staring down at your phone I wanted to tell you how much we’ve aged I wanted to tell you the lights had changed And how an oak tree’s leaves were arranged And how we are never, truly, alone I wanted to tell you the lights had changed But you were staring down at your phone When you were staring down at your phone What was it, that you had seen? Was it a place that felt like home When you were staring down at your phone? And was it better than standing alone Waiting for the lights to turn green? When you were staring down at your phone What was it, that you had seen? So, what was it that you had seen When I wanted to tell you the lights had changed? Did you learn with joy why leaves are green? What was it, that you had seen? And maybe you felt how connected we’d been And laughed inside at how much we’ve all aged What was it, that you had seen When I wanted to tell you the...
Read more

Start Again

Start Again I want to start it all again And not be reminded every day Of somebody who has died I want to wake up not remembering Who crocheted our blankets And why there’s a sheet under the sofa cushions I want to go shopping and recognise nobody And not remember whose milk I used to buy And who enjoyed cheap QC sherry I want to forget how to say ‘used to’ And ‘was’ and ‘did’, and instead remember ‘Will be’ and ‘is’ I want to discover new towns, climb hills And forget that I no longer need to remember Who might like to hear about them I want to cross bridges and turn corners That I’ve never turned before This time, unaccompanied by ghosts I want my tears to come by choice Like knick-knacks and gewgaws, locked in a box Opened only when I feel like it I want to fly into old age on wings of amnesia Caring only for what lies ahead Rusty chains broken around my skinny ankles I want to start again, and again, and again And not be reminded, every damnable day...
Read more

Grammys 2025

Grammys 2025 (a trio of triolets) We know you, Kanye West And your fragile, macho type Sticking out your chin and your chest We know you, Kanye West   Proud of your manipulating best Believing every word of your own hype We know you, Kanye West And your fragile, macho type We know you, Bianca Censori And the deadness behind your eyes We know you’ll be afraid of reaching forty We know you, Bianca Censori Desperate to hold on to security You’ll dive right into the gaslighting lies We know you, Bianca Censori And the deadness behind your eyes We know you, soulless Hollywood And your paparazzi prurience Holding only money as the highest good We know you, soulless Hollywood That nothing sells better than tits and blood Throwing artists on the fire at the very first chance We know you, soulless Hollywood And your paparazzi prurience   February 2025
Read more