Sestina Devotion Poems | Sestina Poems About Devotion

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Details | Sestina | |

Rubik's Cube Sestina

It has not once left me alone, the stubborn beauty,
It has called to me to be at last solved,
But I had left its secrets alone, the unknown pattern,
Colors telling stories left running around my head,
Every fragment remaining present at my side,
I've been left no choice but to learn the cube.

Subtlety not a strength of the cube,
It flashes its routine as a show of beauty,
A rotation giving some new meaning on every side,
It screams to me to be done and solved,
I cannot resist the call as it echos in my head,
As I am inclined to find the natural pattern.

It is not talent that I decode these patterns,
Wisdom pours from the pieces of the cube,
Strength to body, to my soul and head,
Until at last I can interpret that stubborn beauty,
New puzzles presented, new puzzles solved,
It remains with me ever at my side.

Others have put it from their side,
Trampled or mocked the power of pattern,
Convince their being that in their hands it can't be solved,
They self trap in the confines of the cube
Every aspect of both simple and dense beauty,
Lock and seal and throw away the key of their head.

Shame to me if trapped ever is my head,
With only ignorant misery to ever be at my side,
Gray-scale and dull would I find natural beauty,
Confusion certain to hold even with simple pattern,
Never would comprehension visit the cube,
Ever distant the problems from solved.

Joy to the heart that you may be solved,
Enlightenment to minds you posses our heads,
Wonderful truth in so small a cube,
Do not ever leave me, stay at my side
And whisper closely all your practical patterns,
Thank you for being such stubborn, stubborn beauty.

The pattern of the cube,
Can only be solved on every side,
If the beauty is in my head.

Copyright © Justin Benassi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sestina | |

'The Wakening World

The Wakening World

A new world spins kaleidoscopic, a whorl of color in revolt.
Oceans quake, molding into fissures of tectonic hunger,
ravaging the deep, stirring the primal need depressing
populations unseen to the denizens of land, left in man’s wake.
From diatom, to whale, from single cell, to open hand 
from sun, to star, to mushroom bomb, we have light.

Within the orb of eye, retinal flares of light
an inside-out, upside-down, yin and yang revolution;
juxtaposing wealth with poverty, throngs rise asking for hand-
outs, aching with a human need to know, hungering.
Childhood ends as the predestined ouroboros wakes.
Death’s rattle subsides, as head eats the tail of depression.

Communication becomes the global antidepressant.
Aborigines in Australian huts and Inuit in igloos see the light.
There will be no holding back the tide, for hand in hand, cells wake.
No longer can knowledge be held. “Phone home,” a revolutionary
cry, the breast will not be ripped from the lips of hungering
humanity, tyrant and saint will be juxtaposed, their time at hand.

Instant contact scrapes the barnacles of blight handily.
The stroke of fingertip to keyboard or keypad depressed
sends ignorance fleeing, freeing the knowledge hungry;
showing the way out, the way up, the key. Light-heartedly
heads bow in prayer, the we will rock you will revolt.
Let tyranny be eaten, and righteousness wake.

On the egg of earth, we float in celestial wakes.
Solar tides stir the shards of glass raising death’s hand.
Round and round the top spins each revolution
forced by the pumping thump of nuclear rods depressed,
rods magnetized or charged with lightening
will energize the populous for we all hunger.

Evolution brings revolution, each thirst quenched brings new hunger.
Repression will never depress the desire to wake,
nor, will the fisted hand ever bring the light.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina | |

My Words

Burn upon my heart 
Your words of venom 
Lash upon my soul 
Your thoughts of ice 
Stab upon my mind 
Your emotions of chaos 
  
My pen flows from chaos 
Controlled ink of the heart 
My parchment sliced from my mind 
Untouchable by mortal venom 
My warmth to thaw your ice 
Thick and bound to your soul 
  
Yet my soul 
Consumed in all chaos 
Not a hint of ice 
In any corner of my heart 
Veins flow free from venom 
Unleashing the will of my mind 
  
Unbreakable is my mind 
Beauty is my soul 
Unchanged by your venom 
Grace in the chaos 
Which surrounds my heart 
Guarding from you ice 
  
My hate for your ice 
May sometimes blind my mind 
Your bitter heart 
Your empty soul 
Crashing in chaos 
And dripping in venom 
  
How you drown in venom 
How you suffocate in ice 
Swallowed whole in chaos 
Darkness engulfed mind 
Blindness endangered soul 
And emptiness in place of you heart 
  
My words of chaos, flowing from my soul 
Untouched by your venom, and lonely heart 
They will melt the ice, which controls your mind

Copyright © Jillian Veitenheimer | 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 | |

cursed to exhale

If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages, 
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
 I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.

i gazed into the jackals eyes and he spoke to me from eternity
he said "follow closely so that i might teach you to exhale
and maybe dear in return a smile upon your face will burn"
an expression lost on my brittle jaw for ages
so i walk upon the crust of the earth now bruised and dainty
yet i feel growth between my toes and swelling in my belly

woe does bewilderment plague me here, tearing up my belly
then a soft green garden snake cradles me into eternity,
i watch her curl and dance across the soil of this dainty
room, she looks back from her slither reminding me to exhale,
have i been lost for all these ages?
or have i simply been afraid to burn?

and thus so is it my place to burn?
for i feel welcomed and smooth yet i have poison in my belly
and tomorrow i will remember the pain of the ages
may i retain the knowledge of eternity
or become bodily again when i exhale?
or have no question that my thoughts and ideas are dainty

i have visions of my presence siting crossed and dainty
breathing barley and quiet as i burn
surrounded by a castle of tones that bring me to exhale
into the mouth of god and back into my belly
i feel my self escaping and gasping for eternity
coming back down to the end of my ages

i could sit and cry for the death of the ages 
but this life i despise growing and rooting, dainty
yes, paltry no, and tattering for the rest of my eternity
yet i recall the jackal and his feet where the earth does burn
and i miss the poison in my belly
it not escapes me, but it crusades me to exhale.

before and after the ages, the world will burn and my body will lie dainty 
on the ground filling her great belly with the poison of eternity cursed to exhale.

Copyright © xtevie fernandez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina | |

Betrayal, Fails Me Most

Question my mannerisms, do you cause me
Kindness, should be shown to no friend
Reciprocation, will their beliefs differ
In vain, will all my acts become
As if trust, can be nurtured by none
Relationships prove worthless

A resident was my heart, of yours
Care, did you show little 
Every deceitful word you spoke, your actions I forgave
Though limitations, are there to all
My temperament had I subsided well
Anger, had you extracted by force

Help another, was I prepared 
My time to you, did I devote
Though ungrateful, you proved
To wound me through blame, you chose
Fall did I, at gravity's feet
Your eyes unmoved, by my downed sight

Potential, did I try to see in all
To be a good samaritan, I had tried
Though it is with humanity, that humility is eradicated
No matter my attempts to encourage
An ant opposing a boot, will I always be
My disappointment, have you only proved 

To be a fool, I strived for you not to be
Your success, did I crave to see
Though chase my own tail, did you force me to
Exerted all my energy in runs, you showed no care
My belongings were not close, you manipulated my belief 
A fool of me, did you purposely create 

Murder as I watched, would be of no pain
The bullet I would provide, for whoever wished a shot
Though my eyes, saw little through the opacity
Your sharp hands, had your touch guised
In my fellow beings, was my faith strong
Through your blade, was it all lost

In humanity, was my faith a sight to behold  
Though anger did you only ask through disappointment 
To make a fool of me, your unseen blade chose

Copyright © Keshan Govender | Year Posted 2016

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Gone Was The Night

I saw the noble kind young girl last night—
The Virgin's robe was blue; her dress was Light.
“Hail, Mary, full of grace,” I prayed to her;
My soul's petition I believe she heard.
Though silent she remained, not saying words.
My gaze upon the vision was quite strong.

The apparition was so clear and strong—
The sun seemed one with me; gone was the night.
I was struck mute; from my mouth came no words.
Around the Virgin shone such dazzling light.
My soul believed she wanted to be heard,
So I stayed silent to give ear to her.

Although to pay attention full to her,
I had to put aside that I was strong—
For I was weak but wanting to be heard.
Before she came, it had been a bleak night.
But now I saw her Son the Christ's bright light;
He clothed the Virgin Mother with His words.

She finally to me spoke some few words.
I listened quite intensely then to her.
She said, “Let Jesus shine upon you Light.
For now you need no longer be so strong.
The demons will not torture you at night.”
For this I was quite pleased; my prayers were heard.

For far too long, I wanted to be heard.
I was afraid my prayers were just some words.
No longer would I fear the dark of night.
My soul was ever so glad it heard her.
I was revived; my faith and hope were strong.
For I had seen her Son's and Mary's Light.

I bathed in wondrous grace and love and light
Desire had been fulfilled; I had been heard.
As human I had not been truly strong.
I had relied on thoughts and deeds and words.
Yet now I gave heed to advice from her.
She had appeared in my soul's barren night.

I saw such Light; I heard such loving words
My prayers were heard; I listened unto her.
The Virgin was so strong; gone was the night.

Copyright © Alvin Thomas Ethington | Year Posted 2008

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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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Ne'er Gone

Forever in the wind, the gale, the tempest gone……
though, lingering caress of cheek and thigh remains		
as does the precious memory of fires glow.			
Winds leavings lesson, shreds the sheets of time’s retreat	
and, at last, the snow melts listless in spring’s arms, warm.	
Soft breezes tease her auburn hair, she sighs “Oh, love..”	

The flames of brash passion bank with his absence,"Love.."	
The woodland cottage shutter bang , they say “He’s gone…”
Around her unclad form, he’d wrapped his cloak so warm, 	
where maiden laid abed within, his sweet scent remains.	
The war had come and he must go, he must retreat.		
The ripening moon has passed behind the clouds a glow	

Yet, deep within a single seed, follows nature’s glow.	
The pulse, the heart, the art, of tales, unbridled... love.		
No amount of jeers or warnings can bring retreat,		
for he is not removed, dismissed, a leaving gone.		
See his eyes reflected from the face where she remains?	
See the brand he’s placed upon her heart, so warm.		

Clarity can not make more clear, the trace of warmth	
No prismatic glass can intensify the glow.			
The brilliant bloom, the blush, so, it doth remain.		
When willow weeps upon the wind, she shan’t for love.	
Ne’er lay like Ophelia on the water “He’s gone…….”	
A gifting he has left, a grace, in his retreat.			

That winter wind which blew the fairest love to his retreat		
left empty days and nights of gloom no longer warm.	
“Oh, he harried all the dark emotions….gone…….”		
and left a different brightness, a face a glow.			
Soon, with the fall of maple leaves, she’ll bare his love	
and all that matters in this world with thus remain.		

A wee bairn will birth from such love and will remain.		
Upon bosom blessed, he’ll rest with pain in retreat.		
The fairy folk will not receive her dearest love.		
The skirt of meadow grass will not his wee frame warm	
for her longing has been fulfilled with this child's glow,	
the forest god’s and she can see that he ne’er gone.		

The bairn remains, his gift, memory unwrapped, warm.
The retreat of fire forces internal glow
for love she’d given all her heart, and he ne’er gone.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

The UPbeat...

Before there was a word, 
there was a loneliness
within the pin pricked night.
Waves of vibrations, sound,
coalescent’s gestate.
Planets were birthed with souls.

There was only the soul
and a longing for words,
synapses gestating
wavelengths of loneliness,
the aching lack of sound,
and the celestial night.

Man was born to midnight
with eyes and ears for soul
to din’s discordant sound,
no harmony, no words,
aging, aching, alone,
thoughts thus, wordless, gestate.

Circular gestation
for the day became night
and weakened loneliness,
woman kind brought her soul.
Ether resounded with words
for those souls, the God sound.

Strong, sweet, silibant sound
released from gestation
song formed from combined words,
crooning fills the nubile night
joining of mated souls.
The Word freed loneliness.

No longer alone, vibrating within the sound each atom relates to the soul 
Gestation continues in the never-ending cycle of night and the Word.

*dedicated to L'nass Shango & David Smalling for their inspiration.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

Sestina: Deforestation

Lost in the green, leafy space,
Resting on his back out in the country,
The old hermit picks himself up and stands.
He begins the morning trek in the forest
Admiring the nature filled scenery—
The last retreat from the world.

Here peace abounds outside the world,
The man tries to create his own space,
Freed from the concerns of his country.
The trees form a barrier, a final stand
Prohibiting the city from his forest,
Preventing pollution of the scenery.  

But bits of the outside defile the scenery.
The sanctuary is attacked by the world
Who slowly chokes the living space— 
Unaware or uncaring of the leafy country—
With weapons of garbage, smog.  He stands,
Staring at a coke can in his forest.

It stands out on the grassy forest
Floor.  It ruins the life-filled scenery.
Almost acting as a message from the world,
Telling the hermit this isn’t his space.  
A reminder that they own the country,
And out of a whim he is allowed to stand,

He is given the privilege to stand, 
To admire, to enjoy the nature made forest
Whose beauty can be erased from the scenery,
Leaving only overturned land for the world, 
Ready to defile the hermit's sacred space
And strip the trees off the country.

The old hermit cries in this country, 
Among the trees, the animals, he stands.
Beneath the sky, above the earthy forest
He prays.  Since childhood this scenery
Stood out.  As a kid he’d leave the world,
Finding a solace in this private space.  

But now the hermit’s leafy forest in the country,
The only natural space left on the concrete world,
Is threatened.  Unless he stands up for the scenery.  

Copyright © Yawara Ng | Year Posted 2008

Details | Sestina | |

The Passage

A young man’s walk was careful,
As he strode through the passage. 
The walls were dotted with a red
That refused to be washed away with water.
The young man’s memory still pictured the fangs,
As they plunged into the neck of the woman.

The infirmary was in charge of the woman
Now. The hands of the nurses were careful 
As they tended to her wounds. The beast’s fangs
Killing her. A bible was brought and a passage 
Was read. The twisting and turning of the water
That dripped down her face made her cheeks red.

The young man’s face was painted red
With fury. The one dying on the bed was his woman,
His wife. The walls he passed oozed with slime and water.
To sneak upon the beast in slumber, he must care o’ full
Not to stumble. A room appeared at the end of his passage,
The evidence of the beast’s presences was made by the work of his fangs.

The victim lay dreaming of the gleaming white fangs,
That punctured her neck. The blood trickling out was crimson red.
She scrambled to reach the safety of the passage,
But the reason for her tumble was her clothing of a woman.
They were not made for escaping even if one was careful,
Her terror caused her eyes to water.

In his pocket, the young man stored a vile of holy water,
And a wooden stake to end the reign of the evil beast’s fangs.
The young mans creep must not have been as careful,
As he thought for the beast sat up, his eyes a blood red.
A flutter of frantic thoughts ran through his mind, mostly the woman.
He glanced once more, before he faced it, at his safety…the passage.

The words drew to a close, the ending of the passage.
The elderly nurse brought a glass to her lips, water.
The eyes gave one last flicker, the body one last shudder as the woman
Died. A flash across the sky, two bolts struck the ground, fangs.
The beast saw naught but red,
His body fell; he smiled as he passed on. The victor’s step over the fallen was 
careful.

His stride up the passage was careful as he went to see her.
He ran water over his hands to wash away the red.
He saw her last, his woman, no more then a victim of the fangs. 

Copyright © Hannah Goddard | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sestina | |

In His Grace


I'm absolutely certain that it's only by God's grace 
That I could climb if I have to...that very high.. wall 
God give us life all thru His loving care and fresh air 
My God is really awesome, and He's loving and so very kind 
And my heart with pride with all His love just swells 
Because knowing and accepting His salvation makes me so happy. 

In God's loving care I am always happy 
Because I can depend always on His grace 
God protects us and shields us from ocean's swells 
And with Him we can ascend and descend any wall 
He's in control of everything and the very same air 
And my God is so loving forgiving and kind. 

Like God's love there's no other because God is perfect and kind 
And when I obey His Word and follow Him I feel very happy 
God renews my heart and my lungs each day with clean air 
He does it all for you and me because of His love and grace 
With God by our side we can never lose but win and climb that wall 
And living for God is better and my heart with all His love just swells. 

With God's tender love and care I can forever live and my heart swells 
Because I know without a doubt that His sweet love is one of its kind 
And with God by my side I can climb or descend any high wall 
Because God cares for you and me and that makes me really happy 
Just knowing I can enjoy forever His most wonderful grace 
I praise Him everyday for all the things I see,the sky, the sea... the air. 

I see God's love manifested all over the earth the sea... the air 
And all the creatures' hearts with God's shining love just swells 
And the stars and the moon sing praises for His Mighty Creation and grace 
Because of God's Love there's still Love Hopes and Dreams of every kind 
Thinking of His love makes my heart day and night happy 
Because God is my rock and to protect me He can build a wall. 


And with God by my side I can climb and descend any high wall 
He gives life to each of us everyday with tons of clean air 
And when I choose to obey His Ten Commandments that makes me happy 
Because with joy and serene peace my heart for God full of love swells 
Knowing that God is so real, true forgiving and kind 
And that I can always trust Him and enjoy forever His Blessed Grace! 


With God's Grace I can descend and climb any tall wall 
God fills my lungs with fresh air because He's so loving and kind 
And my heart swells with all His love which makes me always so happy. 


Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2008

Details | Sestina | |

My Lord

Oh Precious Lord
We are so grateful today
We give you many thanks
You are so good to us
You provide us with many blessings
You give us your abiding Love


We strive to share your love
Oh wonderful Lord
We count our blessings
Should We forget to count today
You will not reprimand us
Even if we forget to give you thanks.


Often we give man thanks
Just as we seek human Love
You always forgive us
Oh forgiving Lord
I'm sure to call upon you today
Sure to beg for more blessings.


I forever need more blessings
I try to remember to give thanks
I make a special effort today
Help me everyone to Love
Oh wonderful Loving Lord.
Where we fail forgive us.

Uplift us
Pour upon us blessings
Lord of our fathers; Our Lord
I offer so many thanks
I can only give you my love
I have nothing more today.

I am powerless today
As are so many of us
The world gobbles up Love
The world destroys it's own blessings
The world consumes us without thanks
We need you Lord.


We need today so many blessings.
Help those of us who offer you our thanks
Above all, we need never ending Love from you Lord.





Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2008