I was lucky enough to teach a small group of students the other day and one of the other teachers left an example of the the "sestina" for us to follow. It is a form of poem dating back to at least the 12th century which has six stanzas of six lines with an ending stanza of 3 lines. The trick is that the writer can only use the same six words to end the lines of each stanza and use all six in the last three lines. What a friggin' hassle. I just had to try one and it was hard and very confining and not that much fun. Sestina might be Latin based meaning "sixes" or it might mean " trying to swim a breaststroke, fully clothed, with a backpack....."
Glory be to the Father
who keeps this carnival together
who forces two ornery gases to be water
at first, so profoundly slow he can't be seen
keeping dark away with soaring light
but even so his will alone keeps hungry blazes still
In our home alone does water
stay and go reflecting festive light
infinitely elsewhere her clever body - cold and still
what lies beneath will not be seen
until destruction brings the fire and ice together
for she is a carrying wing set free by her giant Father
Circling now, he keeps the nebulous herd together
moving with such speed he can't be seen
The entropic wolves seeking to devour all the light
get sent curling into the dark abyss where all is still
like rain rippling on the silvered water,
Only what is done or made is evidence of the Father
Let us now turn from physics and how it all fits together
or even if there is or ever was a Father
just love that in all this black nothing we have light
enough for flowers and white beaches on the water
Outside, space is awful,dark and still
and for all our sensors and scopes, not one blade of grass is seen
Well, every one of us has a Mother and a Father
so we should huddle in our family tree tied all together
or, if not a tree, we are all sailors on the water
and hold on to each other through stormy seas and still
on dark and cloudy days we'll bring the light
that even in the lazy fog can still be seen
So even if no big hands ever packed this snowball together
into a gigantic chunk of power and light,
and no fuse was ever lit by the happy, playful Father
we've got lots of pretty lights and dancing water
There's no reason to be dry and still
for all the joys we've seen.
It's sad I've not flung the ashes of my father on the water
so he and the sea he loved will be together forever still
yet when the light goes out there will be something left to be seen.
