Sestina, A Sestina
I tumble in, directionless to start
Just thinking I would see where this would go
Assembling words and choosing poem’s form
Without first thinking of a central theme
Just letting the words flow upon a page
With easy access to a Delete key
One stanza down, yet still no sign of key
Components one should have at poem’s start—
Aside, of course, from blankness of a page;
I speak more of the knowing where to go
Deciding on a true and perfect theme
Which should be more important than the form
Another stanza down, fulfilling form
And words ever so slowly turn the key
Within my mind, unlocking the true theme—
Which, once more, should have been there from the start!
Good thing there are still stanzas left to go
And ample space still left upon the page
Especially when digital, this page
Without the limitations of the form
Of paper—though harder when on the go
Which sometimes means it lacks the proper key
To let creative thoughts flow at the start
Which leads to fumbling for a proper theme
And see, once more I’ve not yet found a theme
Just set tangential stanza on the page
Even this far down from the poem’s start
Though somehow I’ve kept to sestina’s form
And maybe, for me, that’s the proper key
To seeing how this poem’s end will go?
For there’s only one stanza left to go
And the envoi. Yet still it lacks a theme
I’ve yet found something central, something key
Some deeper meaning to fill up this page
Only a ramble on sestina’s form
The rules I bound myself by at the start
Key left unturned, and nowhere left to go
Far from the start, far from coherent theme
Ah, well. I’ll close this page and rest the form.
