Sestina Dedication Poems | Sestina Poems About Dedication

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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 |

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 |

A Letter to all Queens

I know of a queen
the fairest of all women
the piles of all beauty
her speech is comely
and she has no spot in her
milk and honey are under her tongue

Burning like a flame tongue
with words she ravish the heart O' 
queen
her body secret is always with her
even king solomon has not seen in 
his women 

not because she is only wise and 
comely
but because she preserves treasures 
of beauty


If all queen astounds in all beauty
then i will not use my pen's tongue
to speak of her as the only comely
but i will write sun clear of not one 
queen
but to all daughters of women
which a queen can be found in her 

Copyright © Mathias Yakubu | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina |

Timeless Songs, My Cure

As my finger, triggers the sound
My heart ululates, in intoxication
Remembrance, is a gift in itself
Indescribable feelings, leading me forward
Being described, through each line I hear
Nostalgia, a joyous feat

The world's halt, is known
My feet, the only moment shown
Care for those who see, denied by the symphony
Where profanity bears no existence
A freed soul, does possess me
The understanding; mutualistic

Each word, mine as it is theirs
My mind, so accustom that copyright is forgotten
Add my own, I try
Though they who brought fame, made it gold
Treasures, will I never relinquish
A reprieve from my pain, offered through their show

Adrenaline, does it move me so
Motions, are they mine to control
My clothes, never asking to leave
To love, a possibility told once more
As they speak of great loss
Findings do resonate, in my being

The group, one with the groove
With pride they express, not chasing the background 
Their voices, not guised by theatrics 
Their arrival, a grace to my ears
Excessive sales, a want at most
To empathize with the listener, their only goal

Their personal lives, unquestioned 
Hope is all I desire, from their shared experience
Never met, but always a friend
When others left, standing by in grief
Maybe my art, unmoving to them
Their art will remain timeless, to me

With my pain, have they empathized 
A resonating nostalgia, plays through their timeless words
My findings, a cure to a cause 

~Keshan~

Copyright © Keshan Govender | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina |

My Studies, You Drive

My incentive, you provide
Behind me, your seat was
My mind, stolen by your thought
To help was my ask, accepted you did
Animosity, was it all in my mind
A fool like me, you are not

Stressed was I, as my entrance was made
A book, had I ignored its presence
Claiming that difficulty, there was none
Your settlement, showed no panic
Stability, was yours to own
Calmness did your sight, share

My questions, did I pose
Seeking answers, was I not
Importance were they little, to me
Your voice, the only motive for my ask
To hate, you showed no intent
My ignorance had not dissuaded your care

Glances, did I steal many
Awkwardness was it a conception 
Your beauty, a pride in itself
My wishes to bring back what was, intensified
A norm did I want renewed
Change was my belief, not you

To write my paper, were there no obstacles
My passion, no longer constricted by an absence I moulded
A shackled heart, unshackled by you being
Forgetting you, was a choice no more
Art would be nonexistent, if your image was smoldered
A driven pen am I, when my side is not alone

Confidence was my bask, a length
Idiocy had you relieved me of, through purity
My actions had you not reflected
A wrath remembered by myself, but forgiven in your eyes
Study did I, conceding that your genius was of heart 
Whilst mine, a stem of love

Changed had my pen's drive, only
Dissuasion of my love, had I attempted through belief
Your sight a root of the potential, a fool claims

Copyright © Keshan Govender | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina |

ROXY, THE ROTTWEILER

Roxy as the loudest rottweiler in Waterbury, an historic town in Connecticut,
Roxy was a vigilante dog, which never let a stranger or a burglar in;
once this ranch home was a haven, thanks for the love she had shown!
While I was watching my favorite movie, she joined in with interest; 
I padded her to let her know that I approved of her curiosity,
and I spoiled her with foods that dogs shouldn't eat: like cookies and pastry! 



On the sunniest days of spring and summert, we spent many hours playing, I threw the ball
and she would find it anywhere on the lawn and bring it back breathing heavily;
whoever says that dogs can't be human?....They have already proven that to us
by being our best friends! A dog can rescue a child from a burning house,
and jump into the coldest pool and bring that baby unharmed to safety;
and many of them take risks that we wouldn't take, to protect us in dangerous situations!



Canines have been our bodyguards since ancient times...Homer, the blind poet, had one, too,
but what they don't have is a spirit like ours, that spirit which returns, upon death, to God;
and will they ever go to Heaven with us? Our answer should be no, but the odds of taking  
them with us, wouldn't be favorable, so we must leave them behind in their earthly dwelling! 
When we'll be resurrected by Christ, we'll remember these loyal and dear companions
that shared our affections, our joy of loving, and our same fate: living and dying like we do!
     



Roxy was the gentlest and the most affectionate dog that ever lived, Roxy kept me from harm;
and what she gave was more than anyone could ever give! And my appreciation and gladness
were demonstrated in my caring ways: making sure she was well-fed and had plenty 
of water to drink, when I would be gone for hours...and on my return, she would greet me 
with a loud bark, and licking my cheeks, she jumped on me and tickled me with her paws!  
Roxy was a gift from a neighbor who died alone; she entrusted her to me, and called me son!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

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A Daughter's Sestina

In the company of a mouthful of silence, I resort to chattering with the wind; Whose carefree fingers grace the freezing leaves, That once were green, now dry and white, Falling to the ground where gravity holds Souls; awaiting births, day and night I remember a soul I once knew, tonight; While with open eyes I lie in silence; Restlessly seeking for something to hold-- Something more solid than a blowing wind-- A pillar, perhaps, or steel bones of white, That couldn't decay like departed leaves My pillar now lies under the white leaves-- I wonder if he hears my prayers each night? Does his hair still grow, are his teeth still white? Was he there with me in my lonesome silence? Has he stood beside me or upon the wind? These-- and many more-- my weary mind holds Sadness from childhood that my heart still holds-- I'm not sure when, but one day it will leave; My heart be lighter than the wind, I'll dream of hopeful days all night; My tears won't fill my peaceful silence, My mind, lit up like neon white For I have with me, a pillar of white Who's been there for me, to help and to hold; Though more than once we kept our silence, I knew her love would never leave; Her prayers kept me safe through the night; Her embrace, encircled me like the wind My father's voice I'll restore in the wind; Along with his smile, so happy, so white; No longer will I cry for my loss, night after night; Instead, what I have, I'll cherish and hold-- Nobody knows whose going to leave; Who will be sent first into the silence.. Tonight, silence's been broken by the wind, That comes and leaves in flashes of white; Heartfull of memories, to hold on through the night. ~*~

Copyright © Green Leaf | Year Posted 2010

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WHAT MAKES THE ORDINARY MORTAL IN YOU BECOME EXTRAORDINARY

Without drive and persistence,
nothing can be accomplished by dreamers;
and doesn't faith shape an individual's destiny?
Look at the incredible lives of the great,
none of them were afraid to take a giant step...
and be amazed by their own credibility! 


What makes the ordinary mortal in you become extraordinary:
is taking a challenge that empowers an undaunted soul
to surpass all human limitations, with an inborn spirituality,
without scraping up more evidence to allow doubt;
wholly committed:  weaving in and out until the element is found:
and what would it be...if not an avid vocation to answer your call?  


Cathedrals are built to the glory of the Omnipresent God,
who chooses certain individuals to expand His mind through theirs,
and their genius estranges all evident insignificance
with gifts that express art with their inner magnificence;
when their external beauty unites with the internal one,
they both are magnified to uplift and inspire...to expunge faithlessness! 
     

Be ever favored and abundantly blessed by Him:
by letting the ordinary mortal in you become extraordinary,
to excel in your quest and uphold every moral;
outstanding works come into existence because of belief,
and as we create, we imitate God in human form...
we are satisfied only when our creation is displayed gloriously!   


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009