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Sestina      deviations submitted in the last 17 months

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PoetsFor whatever reason we write  Bright of day dark of night  The salty taste of a single tear  The love of one that we hold dear   
The ever-changing cycle of seasons  Friends lost for various reasons   
The ups, downs, highs and lows  The "oh my god, There she goes"   
The, I love her but she loves him  The shadow with an evil grin   
The load that is too great to bear  Those who do and do not care   
I'v always pondered the reason why  people share the tears they cry   
People show their brightest days  Others share their darkest ways &nbs Poets
Lay me downThen lay me down  And gild me with lilies, "please"  And ask me to sleep  To lean towards the drum of my own heart  Familiar and rare this is  Whatever was seeking can be found there, with care  Wrapped in rice paper and folded just so  Whatever was wanting can be sought anew  Through breaking the seals and renewing the vows.   
My hands go up, my head goes back  And the Creator speaks my true name  I am here for healing  I open my body  And in the dream  Carefully pull out each one of my vital organs  Placing them on my blanket to heal in the sun  I am grate Lay me down
Child of Dark and DustChild of Dark and Dust   
I thrum my fingers of the wood tabletop  And the jukebox beats its melancholy tune  I sneeze and it echoes  Throughout the room  Child of the dark  Be I, Child of the dark and of the dust   
My fingertips run rivers through the dust  As I trace the pattern of the tabletop  From the corners of my mind in the deepest dark  I whistle a long forgotten tune  Of my childhood, that played when I opened the music box in my pink room  And it torments me, because my dad grandma gave me the box, and all that's left of her is echoes   
I thin I see h Child of Dark and Dust
My AngerSitting here I ponder what I could have done  Why it was that I did not tell you the truth  
Holding on to my pried so stubbornly I find that  I have lost my fear of you   
My composure is fading fast  
But I wonder if it is me that is wrong  So I gather my anger, hurt, frustration,  
And push it aside not wanting my faults to  
Ruin my love for you  
 
I see you standing in the distance  And hatred rises within me  
You're smiling lips and loving eyes  Only kindling the feeling  
 
When did I start to have to tell my self  That I love you?  Repeating it My Anger
Stained GlassYour hands are now work stained  As you toy with brittle glass.  To make yourself a window;  You built to glow for many years.  Built to reflect a craft  You never could finish.   
You hurt from start to near finish.  The white shirt is neatly stained.  As you learn this new craft  You maneuver your travel through glass.  Taking on tasks, which could take years;  Life can wait for youth's unending window.   
Staring through your window  Hoping for the fight to finish.  This work has consumed my years.  The clariety you claim is really stained,  Your word Stained Glass
MaskYour innocent face  innocent voice  innocent words  only mask  the real you  with the harsh face  firm voice  and violent words. Mask
Sestina for MotherFor years I held my mother's hands  but I am my own person now  I used to think I was like her  tansient, yet jovial  who would have thought that through such a mess  I'd grow into a woman   
My mother was a patient woman  she hend our childhood in her hands  and kept us safe through all the mess  but she is gone for now  gone searching for something more jovial  I'll never be like her   
I won't be exactly like her  a stubborn and unyielding woman  she used to look so jovial  
as she slipped the red clay through her dirty hands  she lives much farther a Sestina for Mother
The Immigrant's ChildThe girl and the man were under the tree,  Forgetting the times of hypocrisy.  While Ziva betrayed with man on her arm,  The young girl did roll 'neath tree in her grave.  Thinking of words to half-remembered songs,  The cries of broken records' hearts did sting   
How does lamenting heal wounds that do sting?  The youngest of young does sit in the tree  The mocking of anthem in childish songs  While ignoring the blight, hypocrisy  In the weakening light, the first born's arm  Does dig and weep, to bury newborn's grave   
For when fell the mighty Ibolya's arm  And eart The Immigrant's Child
Rose GardenMy mothers mothers mother  planted in her garden  filled with the finest roses  ever seen, the most beautiful  flowers on gods earth growing  in the brownest of dirt   
And from this wealthy dirt  she raised like a mother  a thing there growing  a thing so beautiful  like in no other garden  were her beautiful roses   
she grew her roses  to feel as if from dirt  to a person as beautiful  as only a true mother  in her children's garden  like them she is growing   
so not alone in growing  flourishing like roses  dreams in a garde Rose Garden
Me sestina4/15/08        
  Me   
I remember a beautiful house.  I’d play there contently as a child.  There was never an absence of love.  Playing with pretty blocks in my hands.  Never having any complicated thoughts in my head.  At night I would snuggle up in my warm bed.   
I would play with my stuffed animals in my bed.  My sanctuary is my house.  Always playing with my toys with an empty head.  I’d play pretend in my own world as a child.  I’d always fidget with my hands.  In my house, I always felt love.   
In my adolescence I Me sestina
Painful Past SestinaWhy does it seem so attracted to me? I didn’t ask for my Family  To split when I was young. I did not want to know Betrayal  At this early age. I did not want to fail my final, or Fear  Being caught in a classic loyalty dilemma. Why do I Sin?  What should I do when to virtues work at cross-purposes? Having Depression  Has not helped my senior year in high school, nor having a frequent visitor-Death.  
 
Two grandfathers, two hamsters, two teachers all claimed by that black cloaked man-Death.  My community shattered, innocence stolen, a lost childhood due to the problems of my Family.  Genes ru Painful Past Sestina
AbuseAbuse  
 
Shouts they echo through  But I do not hear them  
I am deaf to what is being said   
There is violence  
But I do not see it  
I am blind to the hurt   
I do not want to know  
What is truly happening  
I want to stay innocent   
Ignorant of what is going on  You do not bleed you do not cry  
You are perfect  
 
There is no hurt in your eyes  There is no hunger for life  You are wonders   
Never will you be weak  
Never will you break  
You are flawless   
You will never breathe again  You will neve Abuse
Afternoon at Grandma's HouseAfternoon at Grandma's House   
She bends at the waist and peeks through the trees, then the woman  smiles over her shoulder at the laughing boy.  He is a towheaded child  from the city; the woods are new to him. They are mother and son,  with matching blond hair.  Lifting the drooping branch, the mother  holds it high enough for him to walk beneath.  The sunlight  dapples their faces, sifted through the whispering canopy of leaves.   
The smell of her long-ago childhood is strong: decomposing leaves  mingled with pine needles and dirt.  When she was you Afternoon at Grandma's House
Eng 382a--SestinaLooking at the ruins, I let fall the tears,  the trellis and the stones all blackened by fire,  even the statue shaped like a scorpion.  Tantrum checked as I remembered life wasn't fair.  The small garden patch we'd called our  own, the only survivor was the pomegranate.   
A gift from the parents, the pomegranate  was responsible for many tears  in the children's clothes.  Our  youngest lost her cat in the fire,  but the family is healthy and coping fair  well.  Aside from the cat, the scorpion   
was the biggest loss.  The scorpion  was Eng 382a--Sestina
Coming HomeA sudden sadness fills me as I realize I'm not as strong as I thought I was.   
Leaving your warmth and kindness has left me cold and bitter.   
Feelings overwhelm me, and I don't know where I am.   
I miss your embrace and words of encouragement.   
I miss the way you smiled at me with maternal pride.   
I long for your comforting embrace.   
I wish I could go back in time and make it so that I never left you.   
You've always showed me that you loved me.   
I know that if I came home you'd take me back into your forgiving arms.   
I thought I could mak Coming Home
Fatherly Advise 11-2002So, my son  
You want to be accepted  To be part of the crowd  But other kids are keeping you down  Treating you mean  Making you cry     I hate to see you cry  
After all you are my oldest son  Children your age can be so mean  This fact must be accepted  Maybe even written down  And shown to the crowd     To face a hungry crowd  
Even when you cry  And stand back up when they knock you down  Will make a father proud of his son  And his courage will be accepted  Do you understand what I mean     I guess what I mean  
I Fatherly Advise 11-2002
India, My LoveDuring that longest night, we got off the plane  and wandered around the airport, hopelessly lost.  Even my father, raised in this humid and hot  city seemed confused by our faces, sick-  looking, and there with him, for once. He saw the dirt  poorly concealed against the walls, and lost his love   
for his home, that he no longer loved -  Just the people waiting outside for the plane.  We closed our eyes, rubbed off some of the dirt  left on us, greasy from flying, feeling lost  and crying as foreign airports made us sick.  My dad rubbed his bald spot. Was Bombay always so hot? &nbs India, My Love
for my friend AshI got your back  You got mine,  I'll help you out  Anytime.   
To see you hurt  To see you cry,  Makes me weep  And wanna die.   
And if you agree  To never fight,  It wouldn't matter  Who's wrong or right.   
If a broken heart  Needs a mend,  I'll be right there  To the end.   
If your cheeks are wet  From drops of tears,  Don't you worry,  Let go of your fears.   
Hand in hand  Love is sent,  We'll be friends  Till the end. for my friend Ash
Last GoodbyeLast Goodbye  A sestina   
The last time I saw Dad  he looked at me with Indian eyes  and said with a smile "You two  take care of each other." I thought  something was wrong. I didn't know  he would be gone in twelve hours.   
Five minutes seem like five hours.  Looking down at the shell of Dad,  seeing him like this, I know  I will never again see him smile with his eyes.  This is harder than I thought.  The clock strikes two.   
The doctor steps beside us two.  The clock ticks off the mocking hours.  “Turn off the machine?”I say. “ Last Goodbye
what I missI miss how the silence in that beautiful red house felt warm  how the stars were all you needed to steer you right  every hick party always had the best corn  I miss the people who were your friend,  even if they don’t know who you are  just to be nice and always their  The smell of a camp fire in your backyard while eating hotdogs  scared that your dog is still in the house  Fighting with your mothers boyfriends son  whom you liked ever since who knows when  Laughter all around when the joints are lit and beer drank  the country is what I miss  The people, the animals  Wha what I miss
Mock Sestina
Fatal illusionI can hear what's going on.  See you with him.  The smile your giving him.  The venus trap grin that caught me...   
The stare...  Your eyes are full of lust.  I can read it clear as day.  How can you, right here...   
That gentle touch.  I know it wasn't a mistake.  You think I'm blind ?  No, in fact, free from you.   
You come back in,  
From your trip out.  Retreat back to my mind...  You can't lie to me there... Fatal illusion
Who Am I?Who am I?  You dont know?  I was once on top of the world  Now I am nothing more than a sideshow   
Who am I?  I am an abomination  Something that is detested  Something that shouldnt have suffered through creation   
Who am I?  I am loved by none  Because of all the people I've hurt  And all the things I've done   
Who am I?  I am a nothing  A nothing who just wants  To become a something   
Who am I?  I am a failure  A being who is weak  And insecure   
Who am I?  Perhaps I'll never know  But for now, Im com Who Am I?
not mommy, motherwhere is my mommy,  what happened to mother,  i do not need her,  how could i love,  when i have not learned,  
have only known hate all of my life.   
something has happened in my life,  to kill my mommy,  and now i have learned  that i have only a mother,  where something not needed is love,  someone not wanted is her.   
i can't believe her,  haven't all of my life,  what happened to love,  what happened to mommy?  what hasn't she taught me, mother?  what haven't i learned?   
something i've learned  is not to trust love,  som not mommy, mother

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