Sestina Exercise: The Miracle on the Panuco

As a writing exercise for my Creative Writing class we are give the task of attempting to write a Sestina. A Sestina is a six stanza, six line per stanza poem. The challenge with this particular style is that there are a list of six words that must be included at end of each line: one word per line, using all six words in each stanza. Each stanza uses the same six words but in a different order each time. Normally there is a three-line tercet at the end of a sestina but I have not done that.

The six words in this case were:
Coffee
Crumb
Balcony
Miracle
Sun
River

The following is my attempt at a sestina.

The Miracle on the Panuco

I have only drank coffee
once. Even then no more than a sip; a crumb.
It was on a  small island, where a balcony,
by some miracle,
floated aloft. There was no sun
there, only a river.

That island was lower than the river,
Where I once walked. Though others bought coffee
I walked in the hot sun,
Seldom eating more than a crumb.
Surviving by little more than God's grace; a miracle.
And only there I found peace, on your balcony.

I have never, my self, owned  a balcony,
Nor anything near a river.
Though either would be a miracle.
Until I can, I'll share your morning coffee,
Eat all my crumbs,
And wait for my day in the sun.

It's in the winter that I miss it most, the hot sun
Burning my skin while I watch it from your balcony:
El Rio Panuco. There holding my last crumb
Of birthday cake, the waters of that river
Dark as the colour of coffee,
I saw a miracle.

Life is full of many a miracle,
As certain as the rise of the sun,
Or a fresh pot of Tim Horton's coffee.
So, I sat there on that blacony
Watching the gentle motion of the river;
On my plate just a crumb.

Attached forever to that crumb
My memories, to that miracle
Are, and the reflection of the river
Against the sun
Stick to me from that balcony.
And still I have drank no more coffee.

Page 2 of Book poem

Couches seem justified as
      the painter's aim was,
                                         again,
burning,
                        surrounded,
drunk and leaning upon
                                    the house.
The spheres,
               deeply involved,
with his
             beauty.

He worked with
                         stubbornness,
self-pity and doubts.
                      No less characteristic
between the bloodshed.
                                      And his aversion to everything,
was spent.

The Tectonic Element

Change,
           from atmospheric conception,
the human figure
                         became predominant and the only accessory.
The Ancients,
                     happen;
                                 purely imaginary.
The tectonic element
                       with
                               certainly less
                    attitude towards sex.

An English Exercise: John Ashbury's The Chateau Hardware

The exercise was to take a poem from John Ashbury called The Chateau Hardware and take the end of each line and add to it with your own thoughts and words. I will include his poem in italics and then write my own lines in regular font.

It was always November there. The farms forever draped in late autumn's gray death. They
Were a kind of precinct; a certain control held over those who remained by the fear that
Had been exercised. The little birds sat silent in hope of the seeds that
Used to collect along the fence. As though they knew;
It was the great 'as though,' the how the day went, after the day of
The excursions of the police intensified.
As I pursued my bodily functions, wanting release and solitude.
Neither fire nor water, could cleanse my unclean heart. Nor could the
Vibrating to the distant pinch felt within my soul be settled.
And turning out the way I am, turning out to greet you. But you're not there, you're gone forever.

Thoughts on Alone

My wife was away for her monthly visit to her parents' with our son, Nathan. In those moment of solitude when she's away I struggle with the silence. I grew up in a home of 6 children and the fracas that ensues from some many people. Growing up in such circumstances I have become accustomed to noise and when I am faced with silence I become immensely uncomfortable and uneasy.

Sometimes when the silence envelops me my mind plays tricks on me. My thoughts run wild and lead me to strange places and occassionally dark back alleys of fear and temptation (this is not a confessional of any type). However, these moments of silence and dillusion also lead to epiphanies and moments of reflection allowing me to write and express repressed fears and thoughts.

English Entry #1: Alone

At night's darkest hour
      When light falls from grace
Upon day's deathbed
       I lay afraid
Held by the pain
      That once kept me in place
Frightened by the daybreak
      And the hurt I must face
Alone

Advancement of Anglo Literary Experimentation

With the start of my new semester there begins the start of many new projects. Aside from the copious amounts of reading and note taking requisite for my History classes (Late-Imperial Chinese History and American History to 1865) I have involved myself in an Creative Writing English class. In signing up for this class I have hopes to tap into the writer that I once tried to be and maybe redevelop a talent that has laid comatose for many a year.

As such, there will be many new entries to this blog (part of the class) and they should be focused mainly on my writings and my feelings and thoughts around said writings. Any comments would be appreciated, however, keep in mind that my writing tend to reflect the darkest corners of my inner soul and express feelings that I am often trying to work through and self-therapize.