Oh... I've experimented a bit on this end to see what you can do... but can't find an answer. It took Substack awhile to come up with a "poetry" mode when I'm writing a post! But that capacity doesn't extend! I'm sorry!
I take it the breaks are around 6-line stanzas? Yesterday was a travel day, with no reading time. Now, about to enjoy this. Thank you for sharing your work!
After trying to work through possibilities of separating stanzas--and finding none--I sit to slowly read through several times and savour the work.
Other words--besides your six--that echo throughout here, are "somehow," "perhaps," "shall" etc.--subjunctive sense--and future tense of "will." Such a circling of hope in spite of the baldness of "despair" and "stress."
The poem comes to rest with that sense of hope; but it's not an easy thing.
This work of yours really is the strength of the form, captures where we're at now, collectively, where we can go, with a constant renewing of spirit.
So much stands out here: the lines "It is a wish we have to find our love/ To spend it with them..." I love this! How it works with "love" as a verb and noun/person... the pronoun turns it to an individual, and the need to spend time with ... lovely.
'Yes' to focusing on those dear in our lives as a way to grapple with the world... and in turn, that can nurture the capacity to care about the world. Here's to that!
Altogether lovely sounds throughout this work, Sheldon. So glad you shared.
I'm curious: did you select your 6 words before you began the work? Or as you went?
Thanks for the kind words, Alison, and rereading at times I think, What did I mean there? What does the "it" refer to in the line you like? But I will leave yesterday's inspiration as it is.
Oh My Goodness - this form has always seemed way beyond me, much as I admire so many I have read. BUT…this lesson and my need to clearly show my depth of sympathy, allowed me to crack open the locked box!!! My first Sestina, (of many, I expect) will accompany a tin of cookies to a dear friend, later today. I need to stop playing with it and make the card - hopefully, sharing will make that possible - excuse errors if you note any, I have no time to let it “gel”:
Elizabeth, I read this quickly this morning as I was going through email, then returned and spent time savouring.
I so love the contemplative nature of this form. In yours, it circles. The recurrence of garden--that you didn't want one, initially, and then the growth of the connection... ending with Hannibal in the garden, and all the weaving together here. It's really lovely and evocative and comforting. The cookies have a role, the efforts to love and sustain... just so good. Glad you shared. Glad this opened a door to a new form. Or "new old" form; the sestina always feels to me to have been pulled or seduced out from some core place, rather than from without!
I need to add: this form, at first so daunting, is so satisfying to work with!!! My original words were “indeed, garden, grief, goodbye, child, everything”. I got them by writing sentences that popped into my head, thinking of Hannibal and my friend’s comments on heritage Obit post.
Next, I set out the format, based on Alison’s formula, which at first seemed so scary, until I wrote the words and their corresponding letter on stickies. I juggled them stanza by stanza, to make an ‘end word template’ in my notes app - I write on my phone when I need ease of substitution. Then I went at it like a crossword puzzle, first with ‘what popped up’, then refining.
4 drafts later - I am happy enough to share with my dear friend. 💜💜💜it really helped me deal with my feelings - we are both extreme dog-lovers, as you likely ‘get’ if you read the Sestina. 🐕😣💜
That time spent deep in the doing, gives me such pleasure! And the structure is something that I feel will help me grow my story-telling skills, which I want very much. Being able to simply count syllables, then tweak as I go deeper, makes it very accessible. Even as Sheldon blows my mind, or Bishop, or several of the other examples I have explored, I am still not intimidated - I simply appreciate the scope of the form, which to me is highly useful at every skill level.
English is a rich language? It is the only language that isn’t really a language. It’s a bastardized version of the rest of the world’s languages. That’s why we have homophones and homonyms. Every word comes from a different language.
My sestina:
Now comes the end of all that we call time
When what we wish has gone with what we love
And there is nothing but a looming stress
And we cannot exist another day
Then in the dark of night we feel our age
And venture deeply into dark despair
And yet though we feel called on by despair
And think we can but while away our time
Still we may think there comes another age
In which we’ll sport and find a way to love
And then we’ll yearn for yet another day
To soothe us in the thing that we call stress
Oh, that we could escape the demon stress
And wash away the tentacles of despair
Oh that we could yet sing another day
And let us not expire though it be time
Oh at the end of all may there be love
And something yet of comfort in our age
Oh that we could surmount the toils of age
And find some path to lead us through our stress
And then perhaps we’ll find a greater love
That may allow us to pierce through despair
And that may be a rising of the time
It may be something for the final day
And if upon that bright sunshiny day
We somehow can forget our growing age
And give ourselves the greatest gift of time
An end to all that strives to give us stress
And then perhaps we’ll end our bleak despair
And find ourselves embraced by arms of love
It is a wish we have to find our love
To spend it with them for a greater day
To grasp the surly giant named despair
To realize the strength that comes with age
Oh then perhaps we’ll fight that demon stress
And come to happiness before our time
I think that I shall love another age
And in the day will triumph over stress
And then despair will go before my time
The spacing between stanzas has disappeared. Oh well
Oh... I've experimented a bit on this end to see what you can do... but can't find an answer. It took Substack awhile to come up with a "poetry" mode when I'm writing a post! But that capacity doesn't extend! I'm sorry!
I take it the breaks are around 6-line stanzas? Yesterday was a travel day, with no reading time. Now, about to enjoy this. Thank you for sharing your work!
Thanks, Alison. Yes, between the stanzas ...
After trying to work through possibilities of separating stanzas--and finding none--I sit to slowly read through several times and savour the work.
Other words--besides your six--that echo throughout here, are "somehow," "perhaps," "shall" etc.--subjunctive sense--and future tense of "will." Such a circling of hope in spite of the baldness of "despair" and "stress."
The poem comes to rest with that sense of hope; but it's not an easy thing.
This work of yours really is the strength of the form, captures where we're at now, collectively, where we can go, with a constant renewing of spirit.
So much stands out here: the lines "It is a wish we have to find our love/ To spend it with them..." I love this! How it works with "love" as a verb and noun/person... the pronoun turns it to an individual, and the need to spend time with ... lovely.
'Yes' to focusing on those dear in our lives as a way to grapple with the world... and in turn, that can nurture the capacity to care about the world. Here's to that!
Altogether lovely sounds throughout this work, Sheldon. So glad you shared.
I'm curious: did you select your 6 words before you began the work? Or as you went?
Picked the six words first: just the first six that came to me, then I followed the formula for where they should go
Thanks for the kind words, Alison, and rereading at times I think, What did I mean there? What does the "it" refer to in the line you like? But I will leave yesterday's inspiration as it is.
Sestina:
Do You Hear What I Hear?
_____
Do you hear what I hear, the winter’s breath,
Its whispered touch on snow-laden night?
The stars gleam sharp in the frozen air,
Singing in patterns with crystalline grace.
Boughs bow low to the silent choir,
A symphony born of frost’s quiet song.
.
Each flake drifts softly, part of the song,
Swirling and weaving on the wind’s breath.
The world lies hushed, an endless choir,
Its voice a hymn to the endless night.
In every branch is a quiet grace,
A stillness carved from the brittle air.
.
Icicles tremble in the moonlit air,
Their shimmer ringing a silver song.
Each fragile thread holds a glint of grace,
A fleeting warmth in the frost’s cold breath.
The earth folds deeper into the night,
Cradled by shadows, encircled by choir.
.
The trees, adorned with frost, form a choir,
Each limb outstretched in the numbing air.
Stars pierce the velvet expanse of night,
Their light a pulse in the winter’s song.
Do you hear the echo of the frost’s breath,
A soft refrain in its timeless grace?
.
Snow blankets hills with unyielding grace,
The silence swells as if led by a choir.
Each note is carried on the wind’s breath,
Dissolving gently in the frozen air.
Its harmony lingers, this endless song,
Suspended above the cradle of night.
.
Time stands still in the heart of the night,
Each shadow etched in immaculate grace.
The heavens resound with a radiant song,
A reverent hum from a celestial choir.
Do you hear the call in the winter air?
The stars themselves seem to hold their breath.
.
Envoi:
On winter’s breath floats a sacred night,
Through still, cold air comes a fleeting grace,
A choir of stars singing their endless song.
———
This should adhere to all the rules of a sestina:
•The six end words are breath, night, air, grace, choir, song.
•These words are repeated in the correct rotational order across the six stanzas.
•The envoi (final tercet) incorporates all six words, two per line.
I've always cherished the idea that stars sing--if we listen.
So much here, and glad you shared, Gloria. Thank you.
Now I need to re-read. Slowly.
Reposting the sestina
Now comes the end of all that we call time
When what we wish has gone with what we love
And there is nothing but a looming stress
And we cannot exist another day
Then in the dark of night we feel our age
And venture deeply into dark despair
*****
*****
And yet though we feel called on by despair
And think we can but while away our time
Still we may think there comes another age
In which we’ll sport and find a way to love
And then we’ll yearn for yet another day
To soothe us in the thing that we call stress
*****
*****
Oh, that we could escape the demon stress
And wash away the tentacles of despair
Oh that we could yet sing another day
And let us not expire though it be time
Oh at the end of all may there be love
And something yet of comfort in our age
*****
*****
Oh that we could surmount the toils of age
And find some path to lead us through our stress
And then perhaps we’ll find a greater love
That may allow us to pierce through despair
And that may be a rising of the time
It may be something for the final day
*****
*****
And if upon that bright sunshiny day
We somehow can forget our growing age
And give ourselves the greatest gift of time
An end to all that strives to give us stress
And then perhaps we’ll end our bleak despair
And find ourselves embraced by arms of love
*****
*****
It is a wish we have to find our love
To spend it with them for a greater day
To grasp the surly giant named despair
To realize the strength that comes with age
Oh then perhaps we’ll fight that demon stress
And come to happiness before our time
*****
*****
I think that I shall love another age
And in the day will triumph over stress
And then despair will go before my time
WOW!!! 🤯 Beautiful, Sheldon!
What a wonderful post. I've never written one but now, maybe I might try. Thanks
You're welcome! It can be so inspiring to find a new form--and this is a fave.
Do share, if you want :)
Eek I might. And I’ll also share your post with my own subscribers to encourage them to have a go, if that’s ok x
Thank you for sharing, Nelly!
Oh My Goodness - this form has always seemed way beyond me, much as I admire so many I have read. BUT…this lesson and my need to clearly show my depth of sympathy, allowed me to crack open the locked box!!! My first Sestina, (of many, I expect) will accompany a tin of cookies to a dear friend, later today. I need to stop playing with it and make the card - hopefully, sharing will make that possible - excuse errors if you note any, I have no time to let it “gel”:
Sestina for a Beloved Dog
By Elizabeth Barnesco
Your Hannibal was a very good dog.
I met him in summer, in your garden.
To lose a pet is a terrible grief.
Nothing hurts more than that final goodbye.
An other-species child is still your child.
Not just a dog: a dog is Family.
Hannibal, so beloved, was family.
No creature is as steadfast as a dog.
A dog deserves your love, like any child.
His spirit will still walk in your garden
To his body, sadly, we say goodbye.
Yet, his body’s absence brings aching grief.
Once, I stopped growing food because of grief.
Our friendship makes you feel like family.
When I see you, I hate to say goodbye.
Just after I met Hannibal, your dog,
you healed my heart with a gifted garden.
Once born in your heart, forever your child.
Hannibal, forever your precious child.
How I wish that cookies could erase grief!
His spirit will always guard your garden.
Species, genes, blood, don’t define family.
Your Hannibal, was a Very Good Dog.
It is always too soon to say goodbye.
I wish you did not need to say goodbye!
A Good Dog named Hannibal, was your child.
Hannibal, your chosen child, was a dog.
How I wish that cookies could erase grief!
May his memory bless your family.
Until your gift, I wanted no garden.
I will always see him, in your garden.
I am sorry you had to say goodbye.
All my sympathy to your family.
A Good Dog named Hannibal, was your child.
His body’s absence will always mean grief
Now, your garden has a Spirit Guard Dog.
Your garden has a Guard-Dog Spirit child.
As you say goodbye, may cookies help grief.
Always Family, is your Beloved Dog.
Elizabeth, I read this quickly this morning as I was going through email, then returned and spent time savouring.
I so love the contemplative nature of this form. In yours, it circles. The recurrence of garden--that you didn't want one, initially, and then the growth of the connection... ending with Hannibal in the garden, and all the weaving together here. It's really lovely and evocative and comforting. The cookies have a role, the efforts to love and sustain... just so good. Glad you shared. Glad this opened a door to a new form. Or "new old" form; the sestina always feels to me to have been pulled or seduced out from some core place, rather than from without!
Thank you!
I need to add: this form, at first so daunting, is so satisfying to work with!!! My original words were “indeed, garden, grief, goodbye, child, everything”. I got them by writing sentences that popped into my head, thinking of Hannibal and my friend’s comments on heritage Obit post.
Next, I set out the format, based on Alison’s formula, which at first seemed so scary, until I wrote the words and their corresponding letter on stickies. I juggled them stanza by stanza, to make an ‘end word template’ in my notes app - I write on my phone when I need ease of substitution. Then I went at it like a crossword puzzle, first with ‘what popped up’, then refining.
4 drafts later - I am happy enough to share with my dear friend. 💜💜💜it really helped me deal with my feelings - we are both extreme dog-lovers, as you likely ‘get’ if you read the Sestina. 🐕😣💜
Four drafts later--yes! The work and play of it.
That time spent deep in the doing, gives me such pleasure! And the structure is something that I feel will help me grow my story-telling skills, which I want very much. Being able to simply count syllables, then tweak as I go deeper, makes it very accessible. Even as Sheldon blows my mind, or Bishop, or several of the other examples I have explored, I am still not intimidated - I simply appreciate the scope of the form, which to me is highly useful at every skill level.
English is a rich language? It is the only language that isn’t really a language. It’s a bastardized version of the rest of the world’s languages. That’s why we have homophones and homonyms. Every word comes from a different language.