https://mrnakes.deviantart.com/art/sestina-tutorial-276426984 to the tutorial
Independence by MermaidInDisguise, literature
Literature
Independence
Once the wind caught on the sea
And its dress snagged upon the crests
Like a girl who couldn't help falling
For a boy with too many cracks
Then the wind tumbled between the waves
Crashing with the water when it couldn't find the sky.
I always wanted to live in the sky,
Wrap clouds around me--dip myself into the sea--
And wander into roaring waves
Of emptiness; Rush as the sun crests
Rush like wind and water into the cracks
Of myself, so that maybe I'll stop falling
For people who can't keep themselves from falling
Down, and who won't quit looking at the sky
So they can avoid all the cracks
In the sidewalk as they weave through a people-sea
I know she's begging for his big brown paper bags
and to remain abstinent from his liquor cabinet
because he's coming on site with newly-sober rednecks
and preaching of becoming a sobered-enough roughneck.
I know he's tapping his grungy fingertips on tabletops
and sitting in foreign tattoo parlors talking tittery-tattery
because she disses him with friends 'It's true he's cussed
at me for no reason but I'd be lying if I say he ever swore.'
When they exchange tit for tattoo he may wring a neck-
lace; bags under her eyes beg for him to be the bigger man.
But when breakfast settles they won't be neck and neck
and she'll be the abstinent teaser
The hearts of hills speak often in a hush--
Whisper they of love now lost, now carrion.
Without fear, uneffaced, these hills, sans dissemblance,
Raising mouthless voices in greater laud,
Dance now into languor. Thus imbued,
The lightest tintinnabulation raised a paean.
Once the Sons of Adam sang a paean,
Standing in the winter cold and hush;
Leaves no longer scattered, wind frostily imbued.
Trees' unhealthy branches: bones and carrion
Lifted to the skies. Adam's laud
Endless, cold, in frosty air, such dissemblance.
Do not let the bite of frost impinge thee: shun dissemblance
Pointed, falling out of sorts to dirge, from paean.
St
spirit's lulled by forces tidal;
mind spans gulfs, idea to idea.
finding empty parsecs ideal
for shedding the need for idols.
motionless, in no way idle;
inner-space pristine and idyll.
muse dictates to one her idyll
(though her voice ebbs and flows; tidal),
leaving one no time to idle;
one must cultivate her idea.
creation's source needs no idols;
forsake names, seek out the ideal.
one cannot achieve the ideal,
we live not in the world idyll;
blinded by the concrete idols
meant to stand for concepts tidal.
matter is merely mind's idea;
empty space is never idle.
mind in motion, body idle;
seeking a life close to the ideal,
to connect one'
You want to be a master of your fate
And believe still that you can win this fight
But anger kills as surely as a blade
And so is dimmed for you Doriath's light
For king's judgement you did not want to wait
But fled instead - fugitive in the night
Wandering lost, you found men of the night
And joined with them, and shared their lonely fate
On Amon Rûdh you will for your friend wait
His love will guide him, make him join your fight
Then Bow and Helm will bring to these lands light
Until the bond is severed by the blade
The sword is black and cruel is its blade
When it cuts flesh in darkness of the night
What you have done, you'll see i
Doce me quod est verum; quis amat in amatores?
Before the sun has stretched its rays I have drifted
Upon her. My eyelids fall open and note her palms
Are curled in crescents as if a lighter and its fluid
Needed sheltering from a breeze or breath. The balm
On her hands shimmers a lunar blue; I'm kindled
To awaking her by the twitch and vague resistance
Of my calf twisting around her heel. I cautiously resist
Brushing the bristles of seductive words into her drifting
Dreams and speechlessly talk her awake with kindly
Offerings to cup her hands in my curling palms.
Drawing my knuckles into her in spirals, the balm
On her fingers feel
Nor for this only do I love thee, but
Because Infinity upon thee broods;
And thou art full of whispers and of shadows.
Stephen Phillips.
Does not lord Apollo sing? More eternal than man ever could,
our blueeyed Phoebus knows the scorn of loving one, alone
and not with two hearts, but his head cannot fathom lyre sorrow.
Behold running Daphne, once bore this lord's young love,
now, immortal laurel, knows his desire, leaving, would
only lend to his golden youth, unlike the silver age of earth.
So find you a lad with halting speech, a lady of blushing earth.
For Idas, for Marpessa, time did as it might, may and could,
but never
DFC 15: subtly referenced sestina by haijinik, literature
Literature
DFC 15: subtly referenced sestina
i was inside the book store,
seeking what, i do not know;
trying to calm the dull roar
that was my great, secret show.
and pooh, with his kite full soar,
had deep wisdom to bestow.
so my cash i did bestow
on the cashier of the store,
and off to work i did soar
so that my boss would not know;
so my time card would not show
me late so he would not roar.
through the shift time did roar;
much pizza we did bestow
until the ten p.m. show
that emptied our pizza store.
just how was i to, then, know
next morning my soul would soar?
i heard the dawn bird's song soar
just under my alarm's roar.
that is how i came to know
i should my