Anybody that has looked at my profile should know that poetry is one of my hobbies, and right now I am undertaking a rather difficult task in poetry writing. I am going to attmept to write a good Sestina, which is an extremely hard thing to do. A Sestina is a poem with 6 stanzas, each with 6 lines, then a tercet, or 3 line endpiece. The last word of each line cycles in each stanza, like this. first stanza: 1 2 3 4 5 6 second stanza: 6 1 5 2 4 3 third stanza: 3 6 4 1 2 5
Do you see the pattern? My Sestina is going to be about writing, and here are the first three stanzas of it.
Feel the cold stare of the blank page, Elusive words avoid your pen, Your mind an empty pool of ink, Who knew how well gaurded were the words, You wish that you could make them flow, You don't know what to write.
Be it poem or story you must write, Be it few or many pages, Be it blocky or flowing, Be it written in pencil or pen, Be them joyous or sombre words, A difficult task it is to apply the ink.
You cautiously dip your pen in ink, Place it on the paper and begin to write, You are unhappy with your words, Crumple and destroy the page, Begin once more with your pen, Try to let the words flow.
And also, here is a very good example of a Sestina by one of my favourite authors, Neil Gaiman. I would just like some feedback, what do you think of my work on it so far?
Thankyou, I haven't had that much time to work on it but I'm working on the 5th paragraph right now. I'll probably have it done early thursday morning, site time.
I meant to post the finished version a long time ago, but I forgot. So, here it is. It's about writers block, and it was written for a friend of mine who was having some difficulty with a poetry class.
Black Ink - A Sestina
Feel the cold stare of the blank page, Elusive words avoid your pen, Your mind an empty pool of ink, The guarded secrets of the words, You wish that you could make them flow, You cannot write.
Be it poem or story you must write, Be it few or many pages, Be the writing blocked or flowing, Be it written in pencil or pen, Be them humorous or sombre words, A mighty task it is to apply ink.
You cautiously dip your pen in ink, Place it on the paper and begin to write, Unhappy with your words, You destroy the page, Begin once more with the pen, Try to make the words flow.
A black scrawl begins to flow, Fingers become stained with ink, Furious movements with the pen, You continue to write, Filling up page after page, You have discovered the words.
You read your words, A river of chaos and beauty flows, You turn from page to page, Each one contains nonsensical ink, You cannot understand what you write, Black blood bleeds from your broken pen.
In horror you cast away your pen, Destroy the wretched words, Ashamed and afraid of what you write, Down your eyes tears flow, Tears hot with rage and black with ink, They stain they mess of your pages.
You leave behind your bleeding pen, Your ruined pages, Your broken words.
