My Favorite Contemporary Sestina

The Sestina

The Sestina is a French syllabic form that consists of six sestets and ends with a three-line stanza called an Envoi.

The first sestet contains terminal rhymes that are repeated throughout the poem in an established order. The power of the Sestina is how the poet uses the words chosen as the original terminal rhymes and how the poet integrates these rhymes throughout the Sestina.

The organization of the repitition is an elaborate puzzle that builds tension until the explosive Envoi which closes the poem up with it's final use of the terminal rhyme.

Here is the standard arrangement of the Sestina:

Stanza 1: (Introduction of terminal rhymes) abcdef

Stanza 2: (the beginning of the puzzle) faebdc

Stanza 3: cfdabe

Stanza 4: ecbfad

Stanza 5: deacfb

Stanza 6: bdfeca

The Envoi has within each line an embedded terminal rhyme and an ending terminal rhyme:

Line 1 of Envoi: be

Line 2 of Envoi: dc

Line 3 of Envoi: fa

Each line can be any length.

The secret to the success of a Sestina is the words chosen to be the repeated terminal rhymes. These words will determine where the poem travels and why it seems to be travelling in a certain direction.

Below I have included one of my favorite contemporary sestina from one of my favorite poets, Diane Wakoski.

Diane Wakoski
Diane Wakoski | Source

Diane Wakoski and her "Sestina to the Common Glass of Beer: I Do Not Drink Beer"

Diane Wakoski was born in Whittier California and attended UC Berkeley until the completion of her BA in 1960. After her graduation she moved to New York City with La Mont Young and started her poetry career.

Currently she is married to Robert Turney and is the Professor Emeritus at Michigan State University. She has over twenty collections of poetry and has won multiple awards including the William Carlos Williams Award for her book "Emerald Ice."

The Sestina to me is a word puzzle that is similar to sitting in front of the fire with a cross word puzzle trying to find the right words that fit.

Diane Wakoski's poem, "Sestina to the Common Glass of Beer: I Do Not Drink Beer," is a perfect example of how the puzzle pieces of the Sestina fit together.

It seems to me that she chose her terminal rhyme words and began to write. Through my own experience in writing a Sestina it is amazing how the placement of the terminal rhymes in each stanza represents a circle. Similar, I feel, to the circle of fifths in music theory. When you finally figure out how to work the terminal rhymes into your poem you will notice that the envoi closes the circle.

Diane tackles a discussion of history and perspective with great skill. She incorporates her terminal rhymes with precision to explain to the reader her outlook on history and how perspective can change things.

I love how she uses words for her terminal rhymes that would not naturally seem to fit into a discussion about history and perspective. But she is able to take beer, daffodils, and the sun, and make her discussion pointed and poignant.

She then uses the envoi to conclude her discussion like a brilliantly planned Lincoln Douglas debate. The reader can tell that Diane was having fun writing this Sestina. Simply because the Sestina is fun to write, once you have chosen your terminal rhyme then you get to solve the puzzle of making your poem work with the circular rhyme scheme and envoi.

I would like to point out that here on Hubpages there is quite a collection of well written Sestina's and I would recommend to anyone interested in writing one to take a look.


Sestina to the Common Glass of Beer: I Do Not Drink Beer

"What calendar do you consult for an explosion of the sun?

And how does it affect our poor histories?

The event might be no different to our distant perspective

than a whole hillside of daffodils,

flashing

their own trumpet faces; or a cup of coffee, a glass of

beer.



A familiar thing to common people: a beer,

when it is hot, and the sun

flashing

into your eyes. Makes you forget history's

only meaningful in retrospect. While flowers, like daffodils,

only have their meaning in the fleshy present. Perspective



cannot explain sexual feelings, though. Perspective-

ly, veiwing a glass of beer,

we compare the color to daffodils

and perhaps a simple morning view of the sun.

The appetite is history's

fact. Common. Dull. Repetitious. Not flashing.



Suddenly, without explanation. The routing of bowels and

lips. Flashing

past like a train, they come. No previews or perspective.

Sexual feelings are unexplained, as unexpected beauty.

History's

no good at telling us about love either. Over beer

in a cafe, you might stay up till sun-

rise, but even that's routine for some, as every spring the

returning daffodils,



waxy, yellow as caged canaries, spring daffodils

make me want to touch them. Is this the flashing

disappearing feeling of love and sex the sun

also brings to my body? With no object, no other body's

perspective,

only the satisfaction of self wanting completion? I wdn't

order beer,

I'd order a cognac or wine, instead. History's



full of exceptions, and I think I'm one. Yet, what history's

really about is how common, recurring, we all are. The

daffodils,

once planted, really do come back each spring. And

drinking beer

is a habit most ordinary men have. The flashing

gold liquid recurs in war, in factories, in farms. The sun

has explosions that we do not know, record, or ever keep

in perspective.



Thus, the sun embodies more of the unknown than most

human histories.

We get little perspective outside ourselves. Daffodils

lift me above (to the sun), the faces flashing

each springtime when my friends, not I,

sit in some bar or outdoor cafe,

drinking beer.

by Diane Wakoski from "Waiting for the King of Spain" Black Sparrow Press 1976

The poem is not written exactly as written by poet due to format issues.

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6 comments

phdast7 profile image

phdast7 2 years ago from Atlanta, Georgia

Jamie - This is very interesting and seems quite difficult to me. Great Hub. Theresa


AudreyHowitt profile image

AudreyHowitt 2 years ago from California

Hi Jamie--Thank you so much for this--especially for your discussion about your own process in composing a Sestina--I am playing with form more and more these days because I think my work would benefit from it, but the how of working with form makes me frustrated sometimes


Faith Reaper profile image

Faith Reaper 2 years ago from southern USA

Very interesting and I learned a lot here about the Sestina!

Up and more, tweeting, pinning

Keep up the great work,

Faith Reaper


jhamann profile image

jhamann 2 years ago from Reno NV Author

Thank you Theresa. Jamie

Thank you Audrey, even if you stay with free verse, it always helps to think about some of the forms. Sometimes great ideas lie hidden in dusty corners. Jamie

Thank you Faith. Jamie


Mel Carriere profile image

Mel Carriere 2 years ago from San Diego California

Sometimes poets just write what sounds nice to them, whatever bubbles out from the soul, without attempting to categorize it. For those of us who sometimes dabble in the lost art of poetry it is important to define and explain it and set boundaries and rules. Nice work!


jhamann profile image

jhamann 2 years ago from Reno NV Author

Thank you Mel Carriere, sometimes a poet can take what bubbles up from their souls and make their words even more powerful by thinking about the different forms and etc. Jamie

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