Stupid, Fucking Sestina
That was the actual title of a classmate's poem. It was well suited to the format!
For the second time in my life, I have written a sestina. The first time was required. The second time, a self-challenge. I find it lame and possibly incoherent. It's a first draft, purely unedited, but it's there and ready to be assaulted (once my mind regains it's sanity).
Incoherent
Photographs exposed- when she felt ugly.
Tricked by lure of the world's false beauty,
She never dreamed about the shattered view
left opposite the mirror's reflection.
Morbidity- life's fate of dire connection.
Her heart aches but not at her discretion.
"Ugly". Judgement of societal impropriety,
Photographs. Cued snapshots of anorexic pulses.
Morbid curiosity shrugs her shoulder and she's
Tricked into thinking it's absolute normalcy.
Left crumbled surging with guilt and jealousy,
she cries for a thousand comfort calories.
She coerces shame, ransoming raw hunger.
Her alcoholic binge suffices, holding her over.
Left, are vices of sex and Marlboro's in glossy
Photographs scattered and stuffed in cushions-
Tricked by illusions of house-cleaning confessions.
Morbidity! to those hefting tart accusations.
Morbidity- death equal to all sizes, anorexic or plus.
She clenches frustration; Vogue, Playboy or Time--
Tricked her, charmed lies of false advertising.
Her willpower seizes, she pummels cellulite thighs.
Photographs caustic of nature aids insecurities' rise.
Left vulnerable and bruised,a measure of her apprehension.
Tricked into thinking, "It's what money can buy."
Morbidity whispers doubts to her claims while
Photographs lead in the picturesque game.
Left questioning her currency for the emotional rage,
She topples a gin bottle, a 'clank' to the heap.
Her head spins with waste, the bitter taste runs too deep.
"Morbidity, my dear, you have not yet won."
Left of the shame, guilt and dark shadows,
Her resolve hitched a breath, set for passionate fun.
She pulled up her sleeves, straightened her cushions.
Photographs, replaced, she waxed courageous intentions.
Tricked herself into thinking, "Difference comes with time."
Left debating the steps in righting her mind, she searched
Photographs of gardens or mountains she'd climb.
Tricked by the booze, now all is well, morbidity noticed-- she fell.
For the second time in my life, I have written a sestina. The first time was required. The second time, a self-challenge. I find it lame and possibly incoherent. It's a first draft, purely unedited, but it's there and ready to be assaulted (once my mind regains it's sanity).
Incoherent
Photographs exposed- when she felt ugly.
Tricked by lure of the world's false beauty,
She never dreamed about the shattered view
left opposite the mirror's reflection.
Morbidity- life's fate of dire connection.
Her heart aches but not at her discretion.
"Ugly". Judgement of societal impropriety,
Photographs. Cued snapshots of anorexic pulses.
Morbid curiosity shrugs her shoulder and she's
Tricked into thinking it's absolute normalcy.
Left crumbled surging with guilt and jealousy,
she cries for a thousand comfort calories.
She coerces shame, ransoming raw hunger.
Her alcoholic binge suffices, holding her over.
Left, are vices of sex and Marlboro's in glossy
Photographs scattered and stuffed in cushions-
Tricked by illusions of house-cleaning confessions.
Morbidity! to those hefting tart accusations.
Morbidity- death equal to all sizes, anorexic or plus.
She clenches frustration; Vogue, Playboy or Time--
Tricked her, charmed lies of false advertising.
Her willpower seizes, she pummels cellulite thighs.
Photographs caustic of nature aids insecurities' rise.
Left vulnerable and bruised,a measure of her apprehension.
Tricked into thinking, "It's what money can buy."
Morbidity whispers doubts to her claims while
Photographs lead in the picturesque game.
Left questioning her currency for the emotional rage,
She topples a gin bottle, a 'clank' to the heap.
Her head spins with waste, the bitter taste runs too deep.
"Morbidity, my dear, you have not yet won."
Left of the shame, guilt and dark shadows,
Her resolve hitched a breath, set for passionate fun.
She pulled up her sleeves, straightened her cushions.
Photographs, replaced, she waxed courageous intentions.
Tricked herself into thinking, "Difference comes with time."
Left debating the steps in righting her mind, she searched
Photographs of gardens or mountains she'd climb.
Tricked by the booze, now all is well, morbidity noticed-- she fell.