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Sestina Confusion Poems | Sestina Poems About Confusion

These Sestina Confusion poems are examples of Sestina poems about Confusion. These are the best examples of Sestina Confusion poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sestina |

Life Lesson

                                   
I love being young, getting to ride the roller coasters.
The sound, tick, tick, tick, tick-like a heartbeat racing to the top.
Then, surprised even when you know it’s coming, dropped into the abyss.
Something always pulls it down, like gravity.
It’s frustrating, riding something so close to being dead.
So far away but still so close, seating rows.

I hate being so close to, yet so far from the row.
She was in with me on this roller coaster.
Adrenaline rushed my body so fast almost leaving me dead.
The blood flowed so fast emphasizing the highs of the top.
But something keeps pulling me down, gravity.
Here I am again, back in the abyss.

In the ride, weeks of no communication, the beginning of the end, the abyss.
The scariest. My worst fear of my youth. Looking back at the rows,
I see her, with my own image, my heart sinks more. I hate you gravity.
But it’s the only thing that fuels the roller coaster.
Nothing makes me happier than bringing it back to the top.
Let’s hope this isn’t so abrupt, so fast, like the last one, leaving me dead.

How I hope so much, so much hope still not dead.
The heart, the love, the eternal abyss.
Strikes me back with enough momentum to reach the top.
Lines, love, flashing like an old film, with rows.
Showing me a movie, reminding me of, a roller coaster.
The movie explained that the only thing that keeps it going is gravity.

Thank you gravity.
My worries are gone and dead.
Just accept it, and love the roller coaster.
Appreciate the loneliness of the abyss.
The reason you’re here is for the ride, not the rows.
I just want to enjoy the youth and its happy tops.

This coaster, like love has its tops.
But something brings it down like gravity.
Distanced with rows,
Never seeing her again, thinking she’s dead.
But deeper and deeper coming out of the abyss.
The complicated life of the young, the love of roller coasters.

Get on the roller coaster, rise to the top.
Don't worry about the drop to the abyss, It’s because of gravity
That you’re not dead, and I don't care about the rows.

Copyright © Marcus Jjaks Reyes | Year Posted 2013



Details | Sestina |

MIRACLE AT DAWN

No mother would fill up her eyes with tears of woman...
if it weren't for God performing a miracle at dawn,
as she cried out in joy and held her baby in trembling arms
but shed many sweet tears hearing his laughter so loud;
oh, he couldn't see her mommy's face through his tiny eyes,
and it will be long before he'll will utter the first word, " Mom." 

Now that baby sleeps under the attentive look of his mom,
who's too young to become a mature woman;
many visions of this birth crossed her gleeful eyes
she dreamed of the very same words whispered at each dawn,
repeating them in her silly head as if they sounded too loud...
while cradling a pretty doll in her folded arms.

Will she be welcomed home by her parents opening their arms?
Will they reprimand her and not consider her a legal mom?
Perhaps they will not be angry and speak not so loud:
girls are supposed to be girls, not suddenly turn into woman...
So this innocent girl, deceived by a bad boy, must wake up at dawn
when her baby cries and feed him with scary, childish eyes?

Nights seem longer for her, trying to stay awake rubbing her eyes,
what she beheld in those exciting eyes, now it's a burden in her weary arms;
she remembers that pain was too unbearable, but joy more sublime at dawn...
how will she learn how to care for the infant by watching her mom?
She must have seen a nursery or read a book how to think like a real woman,
and can anyone imagine how she keeps that secret instead of revealing it loud?

She must gather enough courage inside to feed her baby who can't cry loud,
but for now she must carry that baby without sighs of distress into her bright eyes;
and her parents can see the changes making her a loving person already woman;
they may ask questions to why she has gained weight and holds dolls in her arms...
no, they aren't anticipating great news and in doubt, they await a splendid dawn.

Mother and daughter closely together amazed by the coming dawn,
any concealed secret can be easily spoken...somewhat joyful and loud;
they imagine the infant's futures will be part of grandma and mom!
Their reunited hearts come together to show love in their delighted eyes,
and they'll take turns feeding the new-born, tenderly lulling him in their arms;
what if forgiveness hadn't been there to deny her all of the joys of woman?

Would a mother deny her daughter compassion as a good woman?
Even God hurried dawn to offer that gift into her gracious, tender arms...
and those arms accepted it with the gentleness and kindness of mom.



Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

The Nameless

I live in an old forgotten castle,
Engulfed in a vast blanket of shadow,
Where without reason, there rustles the leaves
Evermore by the cold clandestine wind.
In the ever-laughing embrace of time,
I try to speak, but long gone is my voice.

What is silence, but an ominous voice?
It's presence is known through out thine castle,
An echo growing lonely through out time,
And I, it's victim, for it stole my shadow!
Why do you bite me so, oh vengeful wind,
Because it was I that rustled the leaves?

Beneath the white, white snow I am the leaves!
Endless flakes falling, ignoring my voice.
Done away with and never to feel wind.
These once grand corridors of thine castle,
What have you done, oh malevolent time?
Soaked in ignorance and lovely shadow.

Do I yearn for the familiar shadow,
As Mother tree misses her little leaves?
In these woods I seek a faraway time,
Where there floats real sound and a friendly voice.
But in my dreams it spoke in thine castle!
Could it be? Was it real?... or just the wind.

What message do you convey, oh weary wind?
For how lost you must be in my shadow.
I feel around the dusty shelves of castle,
Searching through the dry and desolate leaves,
Harboring books filled with glorious voice!
For once I am thankful for endless time.

I've ran out of wax! Where have you gone, time?
The wick caught fire, but loving was the wind.
But did you not hear my hesitant voice,
As I walked slow through perilous shadow?
These mural portraits, showing strange green leaves.
But they've always been gray, silly castle!

Wind and leaves, I'm afraid you've been mislead,
Finding a shadow, never there, for so long a time!
Was there ever voice in thine castle?

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina |

Darkness

somewhere in the depths of self
pity holds a child tight
mind spills her dreams
on star-filled nights
and reflections of yesterdays
echo through mirrored smiles

through framed glass i trace her smiles
soon realizing child is self
i search memories of yesterdays
but mind's gate seems closed tight
darkened same as rainy nights
tears fall sofly like her dreams

if once i could fulfill her dreams
would my own face reflect smiles?
could mind find piece on sleepless nights
if  answers were released from self?
i seem to keep these memories tight
that robbed me of my yesterdays

not knowing the pain of these yesterdays
i've tucked away most old dreams
blocks of memory hold them tight
under lips bearing mona lisa smiles
and child withdraws within self
as days blend into nights

or dark thoughts blend days and nights
in all of these forgotten yesterdays
i choose not to pity self
just escape in new dreams
cracking occassional smiles
as loved ones hold me tight

yet when my eyes are pressed tight
i find myself fearing nights
quickly losing one of these smiles
to a brief memory of my yesterdays
safely tucking away all my dreams
deep within troubled self

seeking revenge on self with blades pressed tight
i try to hide through dreams from nights
haunted by yesterdays that robbed this child's smiles

Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sestina |

Gift

The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening.  An attempt to hold
Onto the feelings of joy and elation,
That made our day so emphatically special.

Are not the future possibilities also special?
That we dream of yet other gifts,
gifts  of such thought, that might also inspire elation
From giver and receiver for all eternity.
Constantly close to both, holding,
As if to say, “Don’t Ever Change.”

Does growth not require change?
Should not that change be also special?
Only if you have forgotten about holding,
The longing embrace of previous gifts,
One that requires attention for all eternity,
fueling existential feelings of elation.

Even when intentionally forgotten, holding
On to the recipient, despite elation.
At one point, this internal agony was a gift.
What could ever make this change?
This gift that could never be more special.
Now it has changed for eternity.

The re-direct of energy through eternity,
The loss of love’s forever embrace.
Love, making pain beautifully special.
Will there ever be elation?
Maybe if we only change
The way we exchange special gifts.

Our future’s eternity might fill with elation
From  holding the exchange
Of something special,
… the mere appreciation of a gift..

Copyright © Matthew Sample | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sestina |

Weep, Why When I Saw It Coming

Weep, Why? I Saw It Coming!

He put me in the mood
Reminding me I am a woman,
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman;
But, is that really me?
No need to explain why I can't see.

Distracted on all sides,
He liked the span of my thighs.
The curl in my hair,
Not so much the clothes I wear.
It was the look in my eyes,
The energy shared between he and I. 

Forgetting that Woodoo
That they do to attack you, 
Yet never affecting you
Because you said I do.
So, I pause,
Not giving cause.

Committed,
Able to resist it.
Knowing something is wrong but I'm too strong.
Not sure what it is, 
I want him, strange and new.
My GI Joe, my reason not to be blue.

I knew I was the assignment,
The joke is on who? 
The joke is on me
Because I wanted it to be.
Wanting his love 
Reservation free.

A little white lie won't hurt nobody,
This was my clue.
But why tell me truth;
Or, should I say half of it.
Like sharing a goal,
Never to get old.

What can I say, it wasn't meant to be.
My soul wants to weep but my spirit says why?
I saw it coming! You should have listened to me.

Copyright © Jamala James | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina |

SAILS GLIDING ON THE SHIMMERING SEA

Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
don't be hasty to engulf silence 
as the chapel's choir engages in a spiritual oratorio praising Him;
an octave higher or lower brings
their inspirational hymn to a desired sound of felicity...
those tones that the loud organ makes!



We, as they, are lifted by the sustenance of faith,
too pure and orthodox to extinguish our oneness of spirit;
adhering to rigid standards and beliefs...forbidding sin
to feed on its vain opprobrium and oppress purity!
We, as they, dwell in this oracle to outshine indefinitely,
and outreach every unreachable and unconquerable limit!



Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
watch the advancing sunrays osculate the waves of the harbor,
and the optical images that reality conveys!
See the ospreys which learn their skill by osmosis...
that even the ovenbirds can't acquire;
hear the believers's proclamation presaging and predicating unity!



Irreverent  and doubtful soul, don't pursue vanity:
don't be similar to a prancing horse that surprises the rider;
don't prattle when foolishness becomes a hangover!
You have put too much effort into exhibiting your valor...
hardly serving a purpose and be totally useful;
be like the sails gliding on the shimmering sea!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |

WHEN A TEEN DISOBEYS

When a teen disobeys,
innocence becomes insolance,
but malice is caused by exernal influence;
banners with explicit sexual indulgence,
conversations with obscene words
and gestures that can offend passerbys.


There are signs that can detect
any danger, watch the sexy way they dress:
tight clothing and that glamorous look
so irrisistable and provoking; and it
may not go unnoticed, and some teasers
even approve of it...adding to their lustful taste.


Even before modern times left their indecent mark,
these teens had a plan to run from home,
hop on train or bus and head for the big cities; 
and on those thriving sidewalks, the predators 
wait and they know how despair can turn into need,
an urgent need to survive...to eat and sleep.


Beautiful children, why do you constantly disobey,
and refuse to listen to your parents and elders,
who were raised in kindness, respect and dignity? 
Innocent children, before that delusional fantasy
steals away more irreplaceable dreams...ask yourselves:
shouldn't a dream, such as yours, be trashed? 
          

Unpack your back-packs and stay in a wam environment,
before silly thoughts become your biggest fear
and you will follow them to their destructive end...
not ever feeling any absence of the parental heart,
where there is a happy home you don't consider 
the greatest place to nurture love with loving cheer. 


When a teen disobeys,
love loses its profound defination...
as its pure essence is taken away by the rampant indignation
of an embittered truant: cursing, mocking justice,
stealing to feed bad habits, and in doing so they allow grief
to overcome joy, and replace it with a tragic death.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |

I was never there

Once when she was falling
I had not paid attention to her crying,
once when she was calling
I was not there...
My mind was not here,
and I just did not see. 

I did not see
when she was falling
I was not there
for her crying
I just was not here 
when my name it was she had been calling.

For me she was calling, 
and I just could not see
and for her I was not here,
while she was falling.
during her crying, 
I was never there...

I was never there, 
where she was calling.
and when she was crying
I just could not see
that she was badly falling
I was not here....

My mind was never here,
my mind was never there,
while she was falling,
and while she was calling. 
I refused to see,
and I ignored her crying...

Ignoring her crying,
I was not here. 
I just couldn't see,
nor my mind was not there
while she was calling, 
and while she was falling... 

I was not there,
for her calling...
and during her falling,
I was not here...
clearly, I did not see...

Copyright © Elaina Dixon | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sestina |

My Life Filled With Pain


I hide behind a  crooked smile.
Many times I would rather cry.
I feel as if I have no friends.
Ignored by my family.
Trampled on by those I most Love.
My life filled with Pain.

My life filled with Pain.
So long since I wore a smile.
I pretend I don't love.
I try hard not to cry.
Where are my Family?
Do I have any friends?

I used to have friends.
My life filled with Pain.
I need my Family.
I fake a lonely smile.
I refuse to Cry!
I am searching for love.

Do you seek someone to Love?
Do you search for friends?
Are those tears that you cry?
My life filled with pain.
I would like to see you smile.
Don't you have a family?

We can't always count on Family.
Some don't know how to Love.
They don't notice that you don't smile.
It's hard to count on Friends.
My life filled with  Pain.
They might notice if you cry.

So many times, alone I cry!
I hide it from my loving Family.
My life filled with pain.
I shower them with Love.
I hide it from my friends.
I show them all my crooked smile.

I cry silently for their Love.
My busy family and friends.
My Pain hidden behind my smile.








Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2008