Or so I said to myself after reading a batch of my students' sestinas this morning. They were so powerful I couldn't resist trying one myself, though poetry is not my favorite thing to write.
The fun part is that sestinas practically write themselves. It's a great exercise to do with anyone who says they aren't creative (and if this includes yourself, so much the better!)
Start with six key words. Here are mine:
You can use any words, but if you take some time to think of good ones, it will be that much easier to write. Look for connections: a fence can be built at the fringe of a yard, or fringe can trim a dress. Also, look for double meanings and flexible forms; plant could be a verb or noun, metaphorical (a spy) or literal (a philodendron.)
Now write six lines, each ending with one of your key words:
Here's where it gets tricky, but only for a minute. Number the lines of your first stanza, and then rearrange your key words in the following pattern: 6-1-5-2-4-3. Like so:
Now write six more lines, ending with your key words in the new order:
Continue this for four more stanzas, so that every key word appears in a different line. Then, at the end, use all six words in only three lines. It's interesting to see where the poem takes you; I certainly didn't start out with this in mind!
The fun part is that sestinas practically write themselves. It's a great exercise to do with anyone who says they aren't creative (and if this includes yourself, so much the better!)
Start with six key words. Here are mine:
- dress
- plant
- open
- fringe
- fence
- second
You can use any words, but if you take some time to think of good ones, it will be that much easier to write. Look for connections: a fence can be built at the fringe of a yard, or fringe can trim a dress. Also, look for double meanings and flexible forms; plant could be a verb or noun, metaphorical (a spy) or literal (a philodendron.)
Now write six lines, each ending with one of your key words:
He pauses to stroke the satin of her fanciest dress
Laid out on the bed, next to the thirsty plant
That earnestly strains its tendrils toward the open
Window. His fingers weave in and out of the fringe
As he calls to her, his eyes fixed outside at the fence.
“I’ll be right out,” she says. “Just a second.”
Here's where it gets tricky, but only for a minute. Number the lines of your first stanza, and then rearrange your key words in the following pattern: 6-1-5-2-4-3. Like so:
- second
- dress
- fence
- plant
- fringe
- open
Now write six more lines, ending with your key words in the new order:
So he sits, watching the fleecy clouds as the second
Hand ticks away the time, waits for her to dress
And walk outside with him, past the fence.
He wonders idly when they will be able to replant
The newly-turned soil across the stream, at the fringe
Of the property. Then the door is open.
Continue this for four more stanzas, so that every key word appears in a different line. Then, at the end, use all six words in only three lines. It's interesting to see where the poem takes you; I certainly didn't start out with this in mind!
He can always tell when it’s her flinging open
The door; the pictures rattle, and for a second
He thinks a train is passing on the fringe
Of the town. But, no: it’s her way to address
Every object in her path with conviction, to firmly plant
Herself at the center, and never on the fence.
She enters the room easily, her smile destroying the fence
Around his heart, leaving it free and open.
He can’t believe she would purposely supplant
His grief with joy, but he knows the second
Emotion is unavoidable when she wears that dress;
It radiates from the straps all the way to the fringe.
He loves the way the wisps of her hair fringe
Her face like a fur-lined coat, as if there were a fence
Of cold stones around her, and not just a summer dress.
Her eyes are closed as he strokes her hair, then snap open
When she hears the insistent telephone a second
Time, or maybe a third. “Did you remember the plant?”
“Yes.” It had been awful before to imagine a plant
Instead of her, sitting forlornly at the fringe
Of the room; but now it feels right, a close second
To an actual person, a small but stubborn defense.
Against his will, the floodgates of his soul swing open;
He reaches for her and crushes his anguish into her dress.
There is no way to fence in sorrow, or erase it in a second.
They know this; each tries to plant the idea on the fringe
Of the other’s mind. She smoothes her dress and pushes the door open.
