So yeah, I've been meaning to post something about the poetic form known as the sestina for quite some time. It's actually one of my favorite forms. You pick 6 words, rotate them as the end words in 6 stanzas and then include 2 per of the words per line in your final stanza.

Let's pick 6 random words: bears, carving, dynamite, hunters, mothers, blessing.

Here's how the end words would go:

Stanza 1
Line 1-bears (A)
Line 2-carving (B)
Line 3-dynamite (C)
Line 4-hunters (D)
Line 5-mothers (E)
Line 6-blessing (F)

Stanza 2
Line 7-blessing (F)
Line 8-bears (A)
Line 9-mothers (E)
Line 10-carving (B)
Line 11-hunters (D)
Line 12-dynamite (C)

Stanza 3
Line 13-dynamite (C)
Line 14-blessing (F)
Line 15-hunters (D)
Line 16-bears (A)
Line 17-carving (B)
Line 18-mothers (E)

Stanza 4
Line 19-mothers (E)
Line 20-dynamite (C)
Line 21-carving (B)
Line 22-blessing (F)
Line 23-bears (A)
Line 24-hunters (D)

Stanza 5
Line 25-hunters (D)
Line 26-mothers (E)
Line 27-bears (A)
Line 28-dynamite (C)
Line 29-blessing (F)
Line 30-carving (B)

Stanza 6
Line 31-carving (B)
Line 32-hunters (D)
Line 33-blessing (F)
Line 34-mothers (E)
Line 35-dynamite (C)
Line 36-bears (A)

Stanza 7
Line 37-bears (A), carving (B)
Line 38-dynamite (C), hunters (D)
Line 39-mothers (E), blessing (F)

While many poets try to write sestinas in iambic pentameter, that is not a requirement. Also, when choosing your six end words, it does help to choose words that can be altered if needed to help keep the flow of the poem going. For instance, take a look at the six end words chosen above:

Bears could be the noun or the verb and singular or plural; it could also be modified to bares, and I could possibly even get away with changing it to beer or beard.

Carving could be made plural and be a noun or verb; it could also be turned into craving or cravings--maybe even caving.

Dynamite has less potential for change; or does it? Dynamite could be used as a noun, verb or adjective. It could also be changed into dynamo or possibly even be changed to mite, miter or might.

And so on. I think you can see what I'm getting at.

*****

I got into sestinas as a result of taking a creative writing: poetry course at the University of Cincinnati taught by sestina master craftsman, James Cummins.

I'm going to go ahead and humiliate myself by posting one of my first ever sestinas (possibly, THE first ever sestina I've written). I was 18 at the time, so it truly is horrible.

"Senor Eastwood"

I can hear your blood
It's making noise
It is celebrating
The way you took that man down
With the guns in your hands
Now you can finally breathe

You begin to breathe
When you notice the blood
You cover with your hands
Your mouth mumbling noise
As your knees drop down
No more celebrating

The mortician is celebrating
As your lungs hypobreathe
He'd like to lower you down
After you run dry of blood
And run void of noise
He'd like to cross your hands

All a result of the man's hands
Not quick enough for celebrating
He didn't get any of that noise
He didn't get to hypobreathe
And he didn't notice any blood
He just went down

He got to take you down
With him and his hands
Just quick enough to draw blood
You didn't get much celebrating
As now you don't have to breathe
And you're deceased of noise

And now do you hear noise
Did you go up or down
Does it hurt to not breathe
Are you still trapped with your hands
Is there any celebrating
Is there any blood

I really would like to know about the blood and noise
For though the celebrating has all calmed down
I'm old and my hands are shaky as is the way I breathe

About the only thing going for this piece is that I did keep the end words in the right order. Outside of that, I picked horrible end words. Beyond that, I was still writing very, very, VERY abstract. Oh yeah, and there's like totally no punctuation. O, am I blushing!

*****

Here's a little more on sestinas from around the Web:

* Wikipedia entry

* The Sestina Verse Form, by Ariadne Unst

* McSweeney's Internet Tendency sestinas page featuring several examples by many, many writers (including Professor Cummins)

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Check out Poetic Forms archive.

Last month Robert very kindly responded to being "tagged" for a meme in which the blogger posts eight things about himself that readers probably don't know. (It was very kind because my mother is the one who tagged him. I said it was okay, even though she tagged me as well and I was going to tag Robert, but what the heck. She seemed a lot more concerned than I was about tagging the required number of people, and Robert was going to catch it from one of us no matter what.)

Even though I posted eight things at my personal blog, Salmagundi Express, I thought I'd do a special poetry-related one here. Hence, eight things you could have lived your entire life without knowing about me and not missed a thing. (I'm supposed to post the rules to this thing, but just go to Lillian's Cupboard if you're actually interested in pursuing this further yourself. I'm not tagging ANYONE else!)

1) I wanted to become a writer after I read Harriet the Spy in sixth grade; but I never dreamed of writing poetry until I was in high school and just kind of started doing it. (Considering how outdated the poetry was in our high school textbook compared to what was going on in the 70s literary scene, it was a couple more years before I purged the taint of sing-song rhyme and coy imagery from my work and delighted in discovering what poetry could really be--and do). 

2) My first published poem appeared in Seven Hills Review, a literary magazine by and for high school students produced through the Young Friends of the Library in Cincinnati. It was October 1972; I was a senior in high school; and I was thrilled. (And yes, it was free verse.)

3) I attended the 1975 Bread Loaf Writer's Conference as a contributor in poetry and was assigned to Anthony Hecht. He was extremely kind and gracious about the very inadequate poetry he had to critique for me, sharing insights and wisdom I really wasn't entitled to.

4) My first poetry workshop experience was also at Bread Loaf, when Hecht presented two of my poems in his workshop sessions. It was brutal, but I learned a lot (and I got to hear him read my lines in that melodious voice before the mob descended with their cudgels and battle axes).

5) My first "adult" publication was two poems in a journal called Xanadu. Those acceptances came the winter after Bread Loaf, so I must have absorbed something useful from the workshop bloodletting.

6) I self-published my first chapbook, called Fake Slaps, in fall of 1978. It was a collection of circus-themed poetry based on my experiences as a Ringling Clown College student and some of the professional and volunteer clowning I'd done.

7) I had a poem accepted by Rolling Stone in 1985 (one of those tiny poems they used as filler between the album reviews). About two months after I received the acceptance letter and check ($15!!), I learned the magazine was going to stop publishing poetry, so my little gem never appeared in print.

8) On January 25, 2008, my nearly eight year involvement with Poet's Market will come to an end. It's a corporate decision, not mine. However, change isn't necessarily a bad thing. And I like to think you're never too old for new adventures. And yes, for the forseeable future, Poet's Market will continue.

(More later about who to contact regarding Poet's Market issues once I've ridden into the sunset.)

--Nancy