Michangelina's Universe: Sestina

Sestina

I was exploring different poetic forms to write in, and I came across the sestina. Intrigued by the idea of having to write thirty-nine lines, I took the challenge. It was actually a fairly easy poem to write because there is no rhyming or meter involved. However, I became bored of the six words I chose. Next time I write a sestina, I will chose words that have more than one definition! Nevertheless, this poem gave me a lot of good experience.

A sestina follows a pretty picky pattern. Each line must end specifically with one of the following six words I chose: escape, burn, forget, memory, black, and candle. The rest can be written in free verse.

Here is the layout:

First stanza: Escape, Burn, Forget, Memory, Black, Candle

Second stanza: Candle, Escape, Black, Burn, Memory, Forget

Third stanza: Forget, Candle, Memory, Escape, Burn, Black

Fourth stanza: Black, Forget, Burn, Candle, Escape, Memory

Fifth stanza: Memory, Black, Escape, Forget, Candle, Burn

Sixth stanza: Burn, Memory, Candle, Black, Forget, Escape

Seventh stanza: Burn-Black, Memory-Forget, Candle-Escape

The narrator of this poem is a girl who has many suppressed thoughts and uses regression as a defense mechanism. (Please don’t ask me why my blog has been full of so much psychological stuff lately. I honestly have no clue.)

Sestina I

Since I was a young girl, I dreamed of making an escape.

Inside me was a sensation I could not explain, a pulsating burn…

My thoughts entangled my imagination; it formed images I cannot forget.

They haunt me till this day— permanently encoded into my memory.

Trusting and so naive, my white innocence tainted black.

I saw nothing of it; I thought I was just following a candle.

For years, I was footsteps behind the flickering candle…

The candle was my muse each night before sleep, my escape.

I desired the candle each night the sky turned black

My hands wanted to feel its warmth, and feel its burn.

But the candle was always from my grasp, it was only a memory.

Only the tender sunlight could help me forget.

On days I felt alone; everything but the candle, I would forget.

And on days I felt cold, I would remember the fragrance of the candle.

It was an arousing scent traced deep inside my memory.

I was ashamed; my friends never needed an escape.

My friends had no tensions that they wished to burn—

I realized regression was wrong, so I watched roses turn black.

Years later, I prayed for forgiveness, and the candlewick turned black.

Strange how my monomania was something I could forget.

The past was behind me; but I found other ways to suppress my burn

My thoughts were blinded without the candle

But soon, I found a different way to escape—

I created one new memory after another new memory

Was this the solution to completely clearing my memory?

I felt like I polluting my mind and blazing my heart black—

I questioned if what I was doing was really a healthy escape

I discovered the answer when it was too late to forget.

Inside the cover of a book, there was the candle.

After the truth was revealed, I accepted my burn.

I was not the only one still crying from a childhood burn.

At last, I found someone like me, who liked to live in old memories…

We hid together as I watched his eyes gaze at the candle.

We would inhale the night air as our pupils dilated black

Together, guilt was something we grew strong to forget.

He and I would plan out our beautiful escape—

Now that he is gone, the burn hollowed my heart into an abyss, so black.

I would do anything to live another memory with him. To laugh and forget

How I held my candle, and he held his during our vacation’s escape.

Michangelina's Universe

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Sestina

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