Sestina (3rd draft)

[Mic]

Eating sourdough toast, half spread
with yeast extract/half pumpkin seed butter,
...................................we hover
........................on tall wooden stools
...(knees not quite touching)
an inch or so above the kitchen floor.

It’s a wet August morning. Backlit fluor-
escent rain soaks next-door’s lawn, newly-spread
over tumbled clods, but it’s not touching
(not yet) that deeper thirst. I'd better
go, I think, as Portishead's 'Pedestal'
oozes from the radio. I hover.

The rain stops. In the distance, gulls hover;
ancient creatures move across the seafloor;
wobbly feet in rolled-up jeans share rock pools
with spiny urchins and starfish— limbs spread
out under a sun the colour of full-fat butter;
lovers’ hands form steeples, fingertips touching.

Who’d have thought that last week, touching
down in São Paulo, I’d see humming birds hover
and squabble over Honeysuckle buds, drink butter-
milk from a cowboy’s palm, ride out a flaw-
less gallop – the stillness at its centre spread
like sunrise through my chest. Oh! but it’s too

long since I’ve felt so much myself. A heart’s tool-
kit needs only love shaped in the touching
of another heart, I muse, as the sun spreads
light across the counter-top and you hover
in the doorway of a new thought. The floor
rising a fraction surprises me, but

earlier, eating toast and pumpkin seed butter,
...............perched on these tall wooden stools,
.......................I do recall a feeling that the floor
........................................was not quite touching
....................where it should. Somewhere, high over
.................................the South Downs, the outspread

wings of a lone Kestrel, touching
nothing but air, throw shadows across a valley floor
spread with buttercups and crimson toadstools.




Revision # 1:-

Eating sourdough toast, half spread
with yeast extract/half pumpkin seed butter,
...................................we hover
........................on tall wooden stools
...(our knees not quite touching)
an inch or so above the kitchen floor.

It’s a wet August morning. Backlit fluor-
escent rain soaks next-door’s lawn, newly-spread
over tumbled clods, but it’s not touching
(not yet) that deeper thirst. But I'd better
go, I think, as Portishead's 'Pedestal'
oozes from the radio. I hover.

The rain stops. In the distance, gulls hover;
ancient creatures move across the seafloor;
wobbly feet in rolled-up jeans share rock pools
with spiny urchins and starfish— limbs spread
out under a sun the colour of full-fat butter;
lovers’ hands form steeples, fingertips touching.

Who’d have thought that last week, touching
down in Sao Paulo, I’d see humming birds hover
and squabble over Honeysuckle buds, drink butter-
milk from a cowboy’s palm, ride out a flaw-
less gallop – the stillness at its centre spread
like sunrise through my chest. Oh! but it’s too

long since I’ve felt so much myself. A heart’s tool-
kit needs love sharpened in the touching
of another heart, I muse, as the sun spreads
light across the counter-top and you hover
in the doorway of a new thought. The floor
rising a fraction surprises me, but

earlier, eating toast and pumpkin seed butter,
...............perched on these tall wooden stools,
..........................I recall a feeling that the floor
........................................was not quite touching
....................where it should. Somewhere, high over
.....................................the South Downs, the spread

wings of a lone Kestrel - mid-hover over
a valley floor spread with buttercups and
toadstools - briefly touch those of another.




orginal:

Eating sourdough toast, half spread
with yeast extract/half pumpkin seed butter,
..................................we hover
.........................on tall wooden stools
..........(our knees not quite touching)
an inch or so above your kitchen floor.

It’s a wet August morning. Backlit fluor-
escent rain soaks next-door’s lawn, newly-spread
over tumbled clods, but it’s not touching
(not yet) that deeper thirst. I’d better
go, I think to myself, I’ve an urgent stool(!)
to deliver from a recent trip to Brazil. I hover.

The rain stops. In the distance, gulls hover;
ancient creatures move across the seafloor;
wobbly feet in rolled-up jeans share rock pools
with spiny urchins and starfish— limbs spread
out under a sun the colour of full-fat butter;
lovers’ hands form steeples, fingertips touching.

Who’d have thought that last week, touching
down in Sao Paulo, I’d see humming birds hover
and squabble over Honeysuckle buds, drink butter-
milk from a cowboy’s palm, ride out a flaw-
less gallop – the stillness at its centre spread
like sunrise through my chest. Oh! but it’s too

long since I’ve felt so much myself. A heart’s tool-
kit needs love sharpened in the touching
of another heart, I muse, as the sun spreads
light across the counter-top and you hover
in the doorway of a new thought. The floor
rising a fraction surprises me, but

earlier, eating toast and pumpkin seed butter,
...............perched on these tall wooden stools,
.....................I do recall a feeling that the floor
...................................was not quite touching
..........where it should, that, in-fact, we'd been hover
...............................................................ing

[David]

A sestina, eh? I'll get me anorak.

[ray miller]

Well, I loved it mostly, the language and the rhythm are intoxicating, but at the same time 'tis exceeding strange in parts.
The unusual spacing in first and last verses represents some kind of hovering?
It appears at first that your knees are an inch off the floor.
You spell it fluorescent.
The bit about the stool in italics is bizarre. What kind of stool are we talking!?
I really liked the 3rd verse.
"the stillness at its centre spread like sunrise through my chest" is a beautiful phrase, but centre of what?
I thought the heart's tool-kit etc. was a bit naff.

[Mic]

David - you'd prefer a walk in the rain to a wade through a sestina?!

Thanks Ray.

The unusual spacing in first and last verses represents some kind of hovering?

Yeah.

It appears at first that your knees are an inch off the floor

it does doesn't it. Will see what can be done about that.

You spell it fluorescent

ta

The bit about the stool in italics is bizarre. What kind of stool are we talking!?

I went to Brazil for a bit of a gallop and came back with the trots.

"the stillness at its centre spread like sunrise through my chest" is a beautiful phrase, but centre of what?

I got to a point with horse-riding while I was away on my last trip where I experienced a sort of 'stillness' during the gallop (i.e. I was)n't having to hang onto saddle or the horse's mane for dear life but found a point of 'balance'

I thought the heart's tool-kit etc. was a bit naff.

It is. Can you tell that I was really beginning to struggle at this point to find another way of using 'stools'?

Mic

[Ros]

I think this is probably heading towards brilliance, Mic. It's really hard to write any sort of sestina, let alone one that works. I think Ray's pointed out most of the bits that bother me, too. urgent stool?! and heart's tool-kit is indeed naff. But I love 'you hover
in the doorway of a new thought.' and many of the other lines.

Ros

[Mic]

Thanks Ros. I've been driven nuts by this all weekend.

[delph_ambi]

I'll come back to this one when I'm more awake and can read it properly, so just one query now: I always put a tercet after the six sestets, and thought this was standard practice for the form, so was wondering why you didn't.

[Mic]

I'll come back to this one when I'm more awake and can read it properly, so just one query now: I always put a tercet after the six sestets, and thought this was standard practice for the form, so was wondering why you didn't.

Because I had lost the will to live by that point.

Mic x

[delph_ambi]

Fair enough. I sympathise.

[brianedwards]

Woah! Have to agree this is very nearly very good. Such confidence for one new to the form -- astounding actually. I love how you dare to fly right outside the room of the poem to find those end words in strange places.
Of course, you DO need the tercet. And that last line doesn't work at all. But this is an exraordinary attempt at a wonderful form.
Will be back.

B.

[Mic]

Woah! Have to agree this is very nearly very good. Such confidence for one new to the form -- astounding actually. I love how you dare to fly right outside the room of the poem to find those end words in strange places.
Of course, you DO need the tercet. And that last line doesn't work at all. But this is an exraordinary attempt at a wonderful form.
Will be back.

B.

Thanks very much Brian. Yours and the others' generally encouarging comments have shored me up. I'll work on that scary final tercet.

Michaela

[calico]

Beautiful, completely. Off to do some research on sestinas/tercets. My ignorance not hindering though as absolutely love this form/spacing everything. Probably knowing more about the form would make me admire even more the fact that you are simultaneously following laws and appearing to fly, fantastic.

[Sharra]

Mic I really enjoyed reading this and seeing how you've pushed the traditional form. The others have already pointed out the bits that niggled me too. I know it's easier said than done making even minor tweaks to these, but I'm sure you will get there

[brianedwards]

Beautiful, completely. Off to do some research on sestinas/tercets. My ignorance not hindering though as absolutely love this form/spacing everything. Probably knowing more about the form would make me admire even more the fact that you are simultaneously following laws and appearing to fly, fantastic.

Look out for the upcoming Sestina Classroom Megan! I hope you take part.

B.

[bodkin]

I've always thought it was actually impossible to write a good sestina...

e.g. even famous ones I checked out often seemed very contrived.

But this is really very good.

"urgent stool" -- however, if you really want to talk about coming home from abroad with the "trots", then I think you need to disambiguate this between toilet-reference and international furniture delivery... being poised between two such incompatible meanings is very awkward for the moment.

And a really niggly nit:-

if its a "lone kestrel", how can its wings touch another's?

Fantastic stuff here really though.

Ian

[Denis Joe]

This would be hell to read out.

I think you've achieved what is necessary: the poem flows beautifully. Having a first and last sestet that seem to create a rondo effect poses some difficulty because it would, narratively, make sense to end it there and the tercet seems superfluous. Yet the enjambment works. I think that is just a problem of the form: it's very restrictive and doesn't lend itself to experiment.

But what can you do?

I love it and I admire the craftsmanship that has gone into it. I tried to use all the end words in the troilet of a sestina I attempted once but I think of it as a failure. This, I would say, is a success if only because you have maintained the harmony throughout. For me, it reads well, I'm just imagining it read out.

[David]

I've always thought it was actually impossible to write a good sestina...

e.g. even famous ones I checked out often seemed very contrived.

I agree.

Half the battle in writing a good sestina - I weakly surmise - must be the choice of the end-words. I can't but think that you've tied your own shoelaces together by choosing "hover" as one of them. Is it because you really want that kestrel image at the end? It is a lovely one, I agree.

I think this must be a pretty good one, because I didn't stop reading with an exclamation of disgust halfway through. Always a good sign, that.

And a really niggly nit:-

if its a "lone kestrel", how can its wings touch another's?

Ah come on now, Ian. Even a lone kestrel may meet another at some point.

Good stuff, Michaela. I may have edged a millimetre closer to having a go at one myself.

Cheers

David

[brianedwards]

Anyone who thinks there are no good sestinas probably hasn't read enough. And I disagree that the form doesn't lend itself to innovation. Poets who don't lend themselves to innovation probably don't lend themselves well to the sestina, but don't blame the form!! Seriously, I just don't get the hang up about the contrived nature of the form. Poetry is contrived anyway, so I don't see the problem with repeating a few words.
Ian, David, Denis, you must all take part in the upcoming sestina classroom that I keep banging on about. It'll be fun. And if it isn't, the next time you're in Tokyo I promise the first drink is on me.

And now, putting on my Sestina Policeman's hat . . . Michaela, each line of the tercet should contain 2 of the 6 end-words with one appearing at line-end. Or are you being innovative?

Nee-Naw-Nee-Naw

B.

[Mic]

Beautiful, completely. Off to do some research on sestinas/tercets. My ignorance not hindering though as absolutely love this form/spacing everything. Probably knowing more about the form would make me admire even more the fact that you are simultaneously following laws and appearing to fly, fantastic.

Thanks Calico. As I may have said in an earlier post, this was so mind-boggling to do that by the end of it I just didn't know if it had anything or not.

Mic I really enjoyed reading this and seeing how you've pushed the traditional form.

Necessity is the mother of invention. Part of me thinks what I have done with some of those end words is a bit of a cheat. Another part of me thinks it's quite fun. It solves a problem (new and interesting ways of using those same words over and over again) and in the pursuit of a solution, something, maybe, sometimes, quite magical can happen (I'm not saying it has in this case). Working within these sorts of confines - for me at least - pushes the imagination in different sorts of directions.

Look out for the upcoming Sestina Classroom Megan! I hope you take part.

Bri - will we all be using the same end words? That would be very interesting, no?

"urgent stool" -- however, if you really want to talk about coming home from abroad with the "trots", then I think you need to disambiguate this between toilet-reference and international furniture delivery... being poised between two such incompatible meanings is very awkward for the moment.

I plan to re-write this section. The urgent stool stuff (while true) is just too unsavory I think!

if its a "lone kestrel", how can its wings touch another's?

See David's response below. But, there is something wrong with this and also I think it's perhaps too self-conscious an attempt to cycle back to the poem's opening stanza.

I love it and I admire the craftsmanship that has gone into it.

Thanks Denis. As already mentioned, this is certainly a mind-boggling thing to do - but it is strangely rewarding.
(Do you think it wouldn't work read aloud, then? Or have I misunderstood you?)

I think this must be a pretty good one, because I didn't stop reading with an exclamation of disgust halfway through.

Please come to Bri's sestina class. We can hide in the back row and giggle or maybe do some disgusted exclaiming.
How strict do you think Bri is?

Good stuff, Michaela. I may have edged a millimetre closer to having a go at one myself.

Go on. Come to Sestina 101!

Michaela, each line of the tercet should contain 2 of the 6 end-words with one appearing at line-end. Or are you being innovative?

Oh alright then. Will do again, and will try harder.

Michaela

[David]

I think this must be a pretty good one, because I didn't stop reading with an exclamation of disgust halfway through.

Please come to Bri's sestina class. We can hide in the back row and giggle or maybe do some disgusted exclaiming.
How strict do you think Bri is?

Hmm.

Good stuff, Michaela. I may have edged a millimetre closer to having a go at one myself.

Go on. Come to Sestina 101!

Well okay, but only as long as he promises not to throw a blackboard duster at us.

[Mic]

I've revised stanza 2 and re-done the tercet to bring it more closely in line with The Rules.

Michaela