So I wrote this sestina and I kind of like it. I just used the first six words that came off of the top of my darling head and let the rhythm take me. I kind of don’t know what to make of it myself, so just tell me what you think of it and what you think it says.
Words: A) bus, B) black, C) hope,D)dime, E) rhythm, F) opportunity
A Sitting and waiting for something to make me climb off the bus
B To move away from the gaze of the man whose skin is black,
C Black like nothing, black in a sea of white, searching for hope
D But more people come, sitting down, paying their dime
E Nothing new, no excitement but just the rhythm
F Of the door, opening each time with a hiss of opportunity
F And it closes again and it’s gone, no cost, no opportunity
A Nothing but broken souls on this bus
E And there won’t be anything but the rhythm
B Nothing but the exchange of a broken heart for another, cold and black
D Some people haven’t got  a dime
C But they cling to their penny with hope
C All these shattered people find hope
F They salvage it from the heap of wasted opportunity
D There are ten of us and I am but a dime
A Of the dollar of the people on the bus
B A dollar that sees white not quite often as it sees black
E A dollar that has never seen a good life’s rhythm
E But we have seen good and bad banter in a rhythm
C The peaking and falling ride of fruitless hope
B We have seen this but we do not turn it black
F We try to grow fruit at every opportunity
A We try to grow fruit from our hope, we, the people on the bus,
D Know that we cannot be a dollar without each worn-out dime
D And it’s the rare laughter of the people, the rare clink of the dime
E That makes us feel connected no matter what rotation of the rhythm
A No matter who it is, white or black, man or girl on this bus.
C As this crinkled well-worn dollar we find our meager hope
F We draw from every opportunity
B We’ve witnessed in the past so we can find it, so we don’t turn it black
B But we have seen the white which is nothing without black
D We have laughed until our stomachs hurt or won a bet with just a dime
F There is a streak of white in all blackness, a lesson from each breaking opportunity
E And so we find a groove in this madness, and so we find the rhythm 
C So we can make it out no matter how much hope
A The only way out is through the black, through the doors of this bus
E And so we make it through the black with the benefits of our rhythm
C I am a dime in a dollar, one tenth of the needed pool of hope
A Opportunity presents itself, and I step off the bus.

2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Kelsey said,

    Hmm.That was very nice.

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