1. Leave several lines of space between the beginning of your sestina and the sestina above yours, but don't leave lots and lots of white space.
2. Begin with the title of your sestina and the byline (by......)
3. Copy and paste in your sestina, adjusting the margins to make it look right on the page (compare it to the spacing of the sestina by Elizabeth Bishop in your text). It is important that you sestina be easily readable.
4. Be sure to proofread it and run a spell check.
5. On Thursday, May 10, everyone is welcome to read and comment on the sestinas. Please do not comment before then.

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The War Between the Wind and the Leaves

by Ryn Gibson

 

There the trees went on forever,

Dropped leaves on the ground made a blanket.

The discarded carcasses no longer green,

Feeling like they lost their life's meaning.

A few in the air they made their way through,

Lightweight bodies picked up by the wind.

 

 

Anchored firmly to branches, the wind

Couldn't detach what the leaves thought was forever.

But the wind, a curveball it threw.

It grew, itself a transparent strong blanket,

Not ever knowing that it discontinues the meaning

Of the leaves on the trees, ending in green.

 

 

Revenge was the decision the green

Leaves took against the wind.

Not knowing the wind wasn't meaning

To take them in a gust forever.

So abundant they created their own blanket,

Their strength would get them through.

 

 

This wasn't the only thing to get them through.

The bright audacity of the green,

(Which created the blanket)

(Which was disturbed by the wind)

Will create it's own forever.

In the cycle of life, it's own true meaning

 

 

You may ask if the leaves know its meaning.

They must look past and through

The war to know that their forever

Is the cycle of perpetual green,

Which can be destroyed by wind.

But once again will arise, this blanket.

 

 

By recreating its life, the blanket

Understands its new meaning,

Not to be at war with the wind.

Together, they worked through

This war between wind and green.

They will start a new forever.

 

 

The misunderstanding they've gone through,

The warring wind and perpetual green,

Have created a new peaceful forever.

 

 

Life's Love

by Brianna Finnegan

 

Her love,

and reason for life,

great happiness

would come from just one kiss,

for many years

she had admired him from a distance.

 

The distance,

that split love

for all of it's years,

that life

without that kiss,

is void of happiness.

 

His form of happiness

while watching her from a distance,

was imagining that kiss

that came with her love,

picturing their life

together for years.

 

The passing of years,

made their happiness

less, as they continued their life

with the distance,

for both of their love

still needed that kiss.

 

That kiss

that lingered on their lips for years,

but still that love

was their happiness,

It was the distance

of life

 

that made it so hard. The life

they gave up for that one kiss,

the distance

is gone now with all the years

their happiness

so tied with their love

 

No more distance, No more life,

the fulfillment of love, with that one kiss,

giving all of the years, the greatest happiness.

 

Troubadour Sestina by John Taylor

 

They seem to behave as fools

as they take to the road.

Focused continually on tomorrow

they ply their passion.

They defy that characterization as they work,

to make tolerable noise.

 

That noise

which those fools

put to work,

is carried along the road

fueled by that passion

which spurs them inexorably toward tomorrow

 

What tomorrow?

The one which is ruled by noise,

and filled passion.

Those fools,

who stand by the side of the road

toil, resigned to their method of work

 

Is work still work,

when one looks forward to tomorrow?

Is it labor to ride the open road?

Is it toil when the noise

abounds, and makes men like fools

in the throws passion?

 

It is that passion

which has led them to forsake acceptable work.

Derided as fools

by the future leaders of tomorrow.

But it is noise

which leads the children of today, down the road.

 

So at the end of that road,

one finds the sum total of the passion

that surrounded them. The noise

which drives them to work

toward a tomorrow

of their interpretation. The product of those called fools.

 

Do not dismiss that noise, which emanates from the road.

Do not ignore the fools, nor their passion.

Their work, is the music of tomorrow.

 

 

 

April

by Erin Kuntz

 

 

I remember like it was yesterday the water,

glistening in my dreams.

The beams cast by the sunlight

bounced over the waves and met the blue

eyes of a little girl with golden hair

and a mysterious, far-off smile.

 

I come to reality, but that smile

and silent water

and golden hair

start to feel real, and not so much a dream.

My heart goes cold and blue

as out comes the moonlight.

 

She loved to laugh, so light-

hearted and with an angelic smile.

We played together every summer, til the bright blue

sky turned to stars that seemed to dance like water.

But now, only in my dreams

is where I still see her velvet, golden hair.

 

When her cancer hit, first went her hair

then that laugh, then her light.

She was more and more far-off, slipping into dreams

where she could pretend to smile.

Smile as she watched the heavenly water

turn waves of green and blue.

 

The hospital room with its dull, blue

wallpaper became too familiar, and nurses with their long hair

taunted her bare head silently when they came by to offer her water.

Sometimes through the shades seeped light,

but it was always temporary and smiles

became only visible in dreams.

 

One day she slipped permanently into a sweet dream

As her frail, tiny body grew cold and blue.

Many cried and cried, but I knew she was smiling,

for I could see her finally dancing free with her long, velvet hair

draped around her shoulders, her angelic light

once again sparkling and her eyes bright with blue.

 

Sometimes in dreams I still see that smile.

In the reflective water those blue

Eyes and long blonde hair shimmer in the sunlight.

 

 

I cannot wait    by Katy Kelley

 

I think that you knew that I cannot wait…

 

 

My Dogs

By: Jake Erickson

 

Dogs follow you around the house,

and into the backyard.

They always want to be beside you persistently

even on the couch at night.

They'll do anything for a treat,

including riding in a car.

 

I get to the park to walk her in the car,

or play with her in the house.

If they are good I'll give them a treat.

Then let them romp in the backyard

into the night.

They will continue this pattern persistently.

 

Both dogs try to show dominance persistently.

So I break them up, and bring her in the car.

We will drive all night.

Then I'll bring her back to the house,

and let her do her thing in the backyard.

Then end it with a treat.

 

Both of them like to start the day with a treat.

They will pursue this in the mourning persistently.

I'll let them out in the mourning to the backyard

to relieve themselves, and after we'll jump in the car.

Then we go for a walk, and come back to the house.

By this time it is night.

 

She gives us a big problem at night.

So we give her a treat

to settele her down in the house.

She still could be a problem persistently.

So I'll bring her out again in the car,

then back home to the backyard.

 

Where we play most is the backyard.

She loves to play at night.

She'll look at me then the car.

If I don't want to go I'll give her a treat

but, she still wants to play persistently.

So I'll throw a ball around in the house.

 

It's time for the car or the backyard.

We'll be in the house, and outside at night.

I'll give them a treat, and they'll be waiting for it persistently.

 

 

 

Reflections