Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.


You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

Sestina Home Poems | Sestina Poems About Home

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Sestina |

My Mother Jean, A Maverick

Alberta “Jean,” the different one was she since her birth and among her family. This redhead born of parents with dark hair had felt herself an odd plain duck; in prayer she’d kneel and on her father’s farm was awed by nature. In the fields, she’d pray to God. With fervent adoration for her God, she searched for truth. A maverick was she. She left her parents’ church, for she was awed by teachings not those of her family. The Gospel she discovered through deep prayer dismayed her folks, as had her bright red hair! Upon her birth, because of her red hair, her folks had joked she wasn’t theirs, but God would lead her to a new life. On a prayer, she traveled west. A restless soul was she - the one to leave her home and family to find her niche; by her bold move I’m awed. By all the things she did back then, I’m awed. She joined the Navy. Jean, with bobbed red hair, would meet my dad and start a family. Great trials came to her. She called on God. To go back home then was the answer she was given after long and pleading prayer. She had to leave my dad. I know through prayer this answer came to her. Again I’m awed because with us, her four small daughters, she became a single mom. She wore long hair up in a bun, worked hard, had faith in God, and married someone else with family. Eight children then were in our family. My mother taught her step kids about prayer, affecting all our lives. Her trust in God is never-ending, and we all are awed. . . . She’s 80, widowed, and still has red hair and goes out dancing!! Rare indeed is she! With faith in God, Jean raised a family. No need of fame has she, for she has prayer and grandkids awed now by her still red hair!
* see about poem for more info on Jean *I tried to make this one like a rhyming Sestina. Instead of choosing just any six words to repeat at the end of each line, I decided to use three pairs of words that rhymed with each other. The position of the words changes from stanza to stanza, but I think the rhyming aspect still holds strong. for the Tell Us About Your Mom Contest of Judy Konos

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012


Details | Sestina |

The Little Prince of Our House

Our excitement to have you in our life
That you deserve a regal retreat inside our house
This once dark room spruced up with chic bedroom

With soaring peaked ceiling overlooking your bedroom
The wall with trompe l’oeil effect that’s how you furbished our life
Fixed window overlooking vast vistas of the modern house

Dark mahogany furniture lined up inside the house
A forest-green bed crown to lay down on your bedroom
In vibrant hues, you have transformed our life

How blessed our life that within our house, we built a bedroom for our little prince



February 15, 2013

Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina |

Stay At Home Mom

I spend my time changing diapers
Wiping tiny faces and drying little tears
My days are filled with giggles and wails
Nights are symphonies of snuggles and hugs
Never do I get time off or a needed vacation
Even sick days are not granted to my position

But I would never leave my position
Not even if it meant no more diapers
Or a three week long tropical vacation
I don't mind quieting the tears
I love getting paid in kisses and hugs
Though I could still do without the wails

I would love peace but I take the wails
Because they come as part of the position
They are often at least paired with the hugs
Yes, I get tired of wet, stinky diapers
But I get to be there to ease the tears
And a toothless grin is better than a vacation

Time at the park is like an all day vacation
Sometimes those days pass with no wails
And unless we skin a knee even no tears
Then we get to cuddle in a sleepy position 
With sand and gravel still stuck to the diapers
Holding each other tight in hour long hugs

I love when they wake up and bring me hugs
Naps are my own little mommy vacation
Then off come grimy shirts and wet diapers
Of course taking off tops always bring wails
Until they see the bath toys all in position 
Then immediately giggles replace the tears

We scrub away dirt and wash away tears 
Wrap up in soft cotton towels and hugs
These are the moments I love my position
And cannot image why I would need a vacation
Then clothes being put on bring still more wails
As they wiggle and turn while I fasten diapers

Soon they won't need me for tears and I'll be able to take a vacation
But I'll miss all the hugs and I'll even miss the I need you wails
So I'll cherish every moment of my position until the next stinky diapers

Copyright © Christi Kopp | Year Posted 2010


Details | Sestina |

THE DREARINESS OF AN EMPTY HOME

After a hard day's work,
these weary feet drag me home,
with the urge of pulling the cork
from the red wine chilling in the cooler;
and smell steaming pasta primavera into a large bowl...
before I am tempted by my gluttonery desire!
  

Simple pleasures like relaxing my elbows
on a comfortable leather sofa,
with legs stretched-out on soft cotton pillows
and watching a dramatic soap opera;
pop-corn, potato-chips and beer...
yes, for a toast to health, indeed!


I may start to yawn and fall asleep...
unless, through my open window, spiders will slowly creep;
and crawl onto my arms and face,
but one sneeze blows them away, and
trust me on this:  the others won't certainly play around,
when they hear the scheme of my surprise!   


And if ideas bubble up into my energetic brain,
more plentifull than memories they'll tap this imagination;
and with pen and pad I'll spend hours contemplating inspiration,
and shouldn't it come swiftly while I cool off by the oscillating fan,
the dreariness of an empty home can effect my solitary mood:
and more than a melancholic moon...I'll vainly brood!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009