(no subject)
sestinas are the most rediculously painful form of poetry to ever attempt to write. seriously, it nearly killed me.
When you walked away I swore I died.
Everything so disconnected, the placement,
The colors, the lights, unfamiliar.
It was as though I was a blubbering infant formed,
Than dropped into the world, foreign and cold.
You shut the door after speaking your peace.
I remember it all. The way the pieces
Of your hair stuck up haphazardly, dyed
Black, perfectly disheveled. Your cold,
Steel blue eyes, so mysteriously placed
Covering those odd thoughts you would form
As you went along. I would scramble to familiarize
Them in my mind, but they never became familiar.
Always sporadic, unreliable, as I tried to piece
Together your words into some coherent format.
We always spoke of beauty, colors, life, and death.
The way we wish things could be, how the placement
Is not quite right, but we will fix that when the cold
Subsides. That winter I met you is the coldest
I can remember. No matter how familiar
I became to it, the frigidness would always place
Itself inseparably to my body, leaving pieces
Of pale, exposed skin frozen over like death.
Shivering as we spoke, I watched your lips form
Words as bits of breath escaped, forming
A smoke like substance dancing through the cold,
Unrelenting air. The biting wind would dye
Our cheeks a light pink shade as we looked for unfamiliar
Things downtown. But we knew it so well, every piece,
Every street. The sounds, the stores, the placement
Of things. I still do, you still do. I was placed
In a catastrophe, but something brilliant is forming.
I can feel it now, dear. It is beauty, it is peace.
This winter I don’t need your hands to keep away the cold,
I have mittens, and scarves, and cups of coffee at familiar
Shops. I will contently walk our streets, quiet as death.
why create a poetry form that is, by it's very nature, completely redundant? i hate writing in neat, precise forms, i am ready for this class to be over.