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Sestina Introspection Poems | Sestina Poems About Introspection

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

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Details | Sestina |

UPbeat



Before there was a world or a word 
there was unfathomable loneliness
in the gaseous expanse of pin pricked night
an infinite course of vibrations, sound
nascent, coalescing,  gestating,
until planets ripening birthed with souls.

There was only the orb, the throbbing soul
and an unknown longing for word,
conduits formed synapses gestating
to wavelengths of crystalline loneliness,
the aching white noise, static, lack of sound,
and the wanderers of celestial night.

Man was born to such a daunting midnight
aqueous eyes and conical ears for soul
to shattering din’s discordant sound,
no bird song, no harmony, no words,
just an aging, aching, aloneness,
of random thoughts thus wordless gestating.

A rhythm of circular gestation
formed the day and lingering became night
and thus weakened, warmed the loneliness
with woman kind He brought her soul.
Ether resounded with sheet lightening, words
for those sounds were to souls, the God sound.

Strong, silibant streams of understood sound
released from the oval egg of gestation
songs formed as man combined the God like words
croonings of passion fill the nubile night
as joinings rolled-tidal of mated souls.
Word all powerful had freed loneliness.

Each creature gifted an end to loneliness
earth, water, fire ,wind, all given sound,
all graced beloved with shimmering souls,
hatched from the dragon’s egg, life gestates
into the bountiful passage of night.
Cherish the ever present presence of the Word.

No longer alone, a sound vibrating within  
each atom relates to the soul, gestation continues 
in the night's never-ending cycle of the Word's life.


*My PASSION is SONG
* Many lines have internal RHYME as well as 
  the end rhyme achieved by the use of the same words.
*Dedicated to inspiration achieved 
 through the writings of L'Nass Shango & David Smalling
















Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010



Details | Sestina |

Sestina of Self

I am the center of raw and wild feelings.
Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child.
Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover.
Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper.
My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing.
Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little.

I am conscious of little.
A time before definition or feelings.
Warm, wild wind soughs.
Motion stirs the blueprint of a child.
God in every breath, every whisper.
Take form and discover.

A bud must open in order to discover.
Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little.
Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings.
Fright filters through the pores of a child.
Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing.

The angelic songs of a river soughs.
Life's song for us to discover.
Along the riverbank runs the child.
Of the future she knows little.
Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings.
Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper.

As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper.
My tears often mix with a shower's soughing.
Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings.
They should be naked dancers that discover.
Their steps are big and little.
Dance with the flow trusting child.

As I grow older, in my soul lives the child.
My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers.
It's a never-land where she will always be little.
Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing
With care and love we'll learn to discover.
We are courageous explorers of feelings.

The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing.
A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery.
Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.

Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |

Sestina

Quite often it seems we tell kids, it’s best to be first
They sign up for fun; parents, it seems, for the fame
Whether it’s academics or sports, why not just let kids thrive?

Create environments for learning and fun needed to thrive
Nurture with affection and love; be their springboard first
Build the foundation they will need to handle future fame

A solid foundation will ensure an easy adjustment to fame
In any circumstance, self- assurance makes anyone thrive
Teach them, the game of life is not won by coming in first

Good character first, may lead to fame in which anyone can thrive
~*~

Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina |

The Dragon Flight

Atop a jagged pinnacle, he sits, just waiting; ragged wings stretch into flight. Dragon eyes his prey; downward sweep and clasp brings supper for a dragon. We all must face our dragons; climb looming pinnacles. Face-to-face, clasping ourselves; we watch and wait; we are our own prey and can’t escape our truths, in flight. Poetry in flight, is the night dragon. He easily finds prey, from his pinnacle; a patient specter…waiting, with cold talons ready to clasp. Downward swoop and clasp; spreading wings in flight. Tired of perpetually waiting, fearless dragon, with wings obscuring pinnacle; takes unsuspecting prey. There is no hope, for dying prey; wiggling in talon-clasp. Dragon’s spy pinnacle, welcomes him from hunt-flight. Famished dining dragon, welcomes no more waiting. Much too long, in waiting, with no dinner-prey, can leave a thinning dragon in deaths abominable clasp. Angels in celestial flight, will carry him, to Heaven’s pinnacle. When for death, you wait; face your dragon. He’ll give up his prey, for miraculous, spiritual flight. In a death clasp; souls reach the eternal pinnacle.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina |

Count to Ten

To every zephyr comes a bold quest
and every squall can whisper regret.
Those who will take the deeper breath
are those who gain a discerning spirit. 
The eye of a storm loves the calm
while the vortex lives for the clash.

When two people sense a coming clash
because they’re on a divergent quest.
One may keep peace, remaining calm
while the other has no regret
for baring an onery spirit -
hell-bent, ranting with “baited” breath.

The pacifist, holding his breath,
prefers to downscale any clash
disowning the negative spirit.
The personality of quest
depends on one’s view of regret.
Cold is how the gutsy perceive calm.

Some get uptight when life is too calm;
conflict leaves another gasping for breath.
Satisfaction versus regret -
can both be balanced without clash?
Is there a more productive quest 
for passive and proactive spirits?

With open mind, the hostile spirit
can work at finding a sense of calm.
When threatened with a thorny request,
count to ten and take a deep breath.
At the invitation to clash,
do not attend; send your regrets.

If you are one who shrinks from regret
confronting an in-your-face spirit,
do not forgo the challenging clash.
Count to ten; dismantle your normal calm
and debate ‘til you’re out-of-breath.
Learn the thrill of making the conquest. 


The question of regret counts off death's calm.
Trying unchecked spirits with waiting breath
welcome both the clash and the quieter quest. 


Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina |

Triple Redundant Tercets


The ebb and flow of your life is in a constant state of flux.
While the “meat and potatoes” of a soul are at its’ core,
these sublimations are kept hidden deep inside.

They’re always under cover and kept hidden deep inside,
roiling your life with a tidal action to a constant state of flux,
while the “nitty grittys” of a soul are at its’ core.

The concept of souls are at its’ core.
Although souls are kept hidden deep inside,
they percolate life to a constant state of flux.

Your life is in a constant state of flux because the soul is at its’ core, hidden deep inside.


For Andrea's contest

Copyright © John Trusty | 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 |

Lifes Rotations

Universes of time, aged stars;
Silent and bright, how they swirl.
Each one lights its own corner of the heavens;
each stands as one body;
serving the universe, alone.
They all reach great heights.

There are no fears here of heights;
no phobias among these stars;
despite them having to stand alone.
Round and round they swirl;
each centrifugal body,
swirling in the heavens.

When people look at the heavens;
they look to great heights;
and peruse those wondrous bodies.
They stare and dream, beneath the stars;
watching them blink and swirl;
each doing their job together, yet alone.

The state of being alone, 
up there, in the heavens;
in a constant state of, swirling;
can steer them to those, limitless heights.
Like people, they are travelers, those stars;
little gypsy’s in cosmic light bodies.

With no limbs to impede their bodies;
they travel to other universes, alone.
Each life has its own journey, even a star; 
as it travels through the heavens; 
it achieves, greater and greater heights;
never looking back, as it swirls.

Like stars, the human mind, with dreams…swirls;
within the mortal body;
Until it too, achieves great heights;
and doing this, very much alone.

Man dreams of rising to heaven; 
just like the gypsy stars.

In the end, like dwarfed stars; the human mind will cease its swirl.
In the heights of heaven, there is no mortal body.
No soul is alone, yet without any spin, it achieves those new heights.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina |

Bye Gones

A full heart chokes
too full to feel
anything but broken.
Seems all is lost
and only phantoms linger
must I remain?

A hollow husk, a remnant
yet, engorged and choking 
on maudlin memories lingering
I cannot stop the feelings
the haunted thoughts of loss
surrounded by what’s broken.

Rise up, wrap, beribboned breaks 
yes, I must remain
for others have a need not lost
in pointless, pitiful sobs and choking.
Regain, search, reform to feel
the worth of love which lingers.

A man child grown who has lingered
past the vows which broke 
too full, still, with anger of his own to feel
I must remain 
anxious, prone, and choking
for forgiveness must not be lost.

Let it be forgiveness loosing
let sweet reminiscence linger
un-choked
let the bond of love live unbroken
though soon I must go and he remain
and naught will be left to feel.

For there are many types of feelings
and many ways to lose
what remains
what lingers
the broken
chokings.

Be gone death and loss
remain but joy a lingering
repair my broken life un-choked by grief.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina |

Sestina In The World Of Worm

Contemporary and vast in imagination is the girl lost in her own world.
Concealed between the paragraphs and ink typed pages of the book.
Remain cross-legged, as if in meditation, toes tickled by grass.
Here the battle of yin and yang, good and evil, is not waged but in balance.
Falling from the tree to rest in her lap is the red apple.
Just like the plot of a book; within and eating it's way to the outside is the worm.

Weaving in and out of the core, consuming the plot, is the worm.
Pulling the reader through the red shiny skin into its world.
Hours could fly by hidden and protected by the apple.
The letters purge into a blur and no longer seen is the book.
Hero, villain, and romance achieve their balance.
Feet sprout roots into the grass.

Becoming immobile with the soft cushion; short bladed grass.
Breaking through one skin and into another goes the worm.
Coursing through the bloodstream, distorting balance.
Eyelids fall as if to be curtains closing out the remaining world.
The key to the gates lay open; the book.
Perched on left knee baring one hole; the apple.

Slipping through the tendrils of a dream riding aboard an apple.
Wings flapping on either side, improvised as grass.
The landing pad looms in front; an open book.
Waving a light for a signal and a hand for hello the worm.
Created solely by the subconscious is this world.

Hitting the pages stumbling from the stem with lost balance.
Skin melting red spilling into the pages; colorless becomes the apple.
Brandishing a pencil, he begins to build a new world.
Kneeling in the grass,
Coloring in the apple purple is the worm.
Dancing in circles around and upon the open book.

When finished, he nods slowly and closes the book.
The scales return to their balance.
Burrowing deep into the apple goes the worm.
Once purple and now red again is the apple.
The roots from feet recede from the grass.
Opening eyes back into the already created world.

Reaching complacency within the world of a book.
The grass, a support for balance.
Leaving the door ajar of the purple apple, waving a sad goodbye to the worm.

Copyright © Sam Beloved | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina |

Tree and me

Sitting under a tree, old and grey
No flowers to bloom, leaves falling down
Birds desert the nests, no one to play around
The clouds are around, they hold no charm
Gave shade to many, no one to shade us
Waiting to fall one day, are we made for each other?

Copyright © Suresh Iyer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

Death Undignified

The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
A whalebone corset dug into my body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touches the pane
of dearly brought glass it vibrates with the hoof-beat of riders.
The weak, blue-sky pales, clouding over with the dust. 
Children playing hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.

Inside Fort Laramie’s provisioner, Mrs. Dreary's dropped-plate clatters.
Outside, a thunder of hoofs race pell-mell through heat, oppressive.
“Indians!” Children run through the street's miasma of dust.
Folks in wagons and on horseback flee for other parts.
“Sioux,” I nod. Gunshots ring through the air savaging the riders.
The shopkeeper’s wife babe in arms runs up the stairs, baby screams in pain.

Arrow flights buzz by shattering the shop's window panes.
The Indians leap from horse back to tile roof raising a clatter.
Mr. Dreary reaches for his Sharp shooter and aims at the riders.
A cat’s eye marble falls from the toy display, a mundane oppression.
Dreary slams shut the door, shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git away from that window! Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”

My eyes, now black and hollow as a barn owl's, tear, full of dust.
“Damn heathens,” Mr. Dreary cusses as bullets fly through broken panes.
He pulls me behind him and opens the useless glass door. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls back, landing beside me,his spurs clattering.
The baby screams again. I turn to see Mrs. Dreary's oppressive
grip on the child. “He’s dead.” She says grabs the Sharp and kills the next rider.

The soldiers finally arrive and chase the mongrel band of riders.
Mrs. Dreary, babe in one arm, Sharp in the other, kicks the marble in the dust.
She walks through the door, out of one carnage into another type of oppression,
the soldiers are executing the Sioux braves. Children watch in pain.
Across the street a lone warrior perches. A roof tile clatters
to the dirt. His arrow flies and a soul is parted.

Falling with blind numbness, forward, down, parting
the water in the horse trough left for the riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departing in the day's dust.
My open mouth fills with bile and the rancid taste of pain.
“How improper,” was my last lucid thought, truly oppressive.

A clatter of hoofs rocks my parting.
The oppression, of man against man leaves, with the riders.
Only dust and the pain of the living remain.


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sestina |

Witches Pull Switches

A light bulb screwed in, then turn on switch witch.
We all can learn from experience.
But you can also experience what you learn.
Time and again learning something the wrong way has caused disaster.
Wiring an engine the wrong way will keep it from running.
Just as loving the wrong person can cause heartbreak.

The night you saw her with another man was heartbreak.
You wanted to yell at her and call her a witch.
Then after all the hassle you were tired from running.
You felt like you had learned from this experience.
Another relationship, another disaster.
Going through all of this, what did you learn?

Thinking on all relationships, what could you learn?
For one thing, try not to ever experience heartbreak.
If you do then there could be disaster.
And could bring lots of pain from some lovely witch.
And believe me, this you don't want to experience.
You will just find more witches and keep on running.

When you leave a witch keep on running.
And never slow down son, this lesson learn.
Because between the two of you, she has more experience.
And can cause you much more pain and heartbreak.
After all, she has the powers of a lovely witch.
And if she uses them, beware of disaster.

Remember multiples can be disaster.
They will keep you tired and running.
Especially when there's more than one witch.
And oh how she wants to use you, so learn!
This can leave you lonely and with heartbreak.
Only she can benefit from this experience.

So, let me tell you about my experience.
In my life, more than once, there was total disaster.
There was pain, sorrow, and yes, heartbreak.
Women kept me on the ball and running.
Do you think that I heeded advise and would learn?
Absolutely not! What fun is that when you play with a witch?

Experience may keep you from running.
Disaster could help you to learn.
HEARTBREAK IS DEFINITELY...having more than one lovely witch!!!!!

Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

Idella's Gift

There are smells and sights and tastes which always remind 
of Grandma with her rows of flowers bright,
the red of poppy the gladiolas white, the blue of spring violets vain 
the scent of lilacs in the air and pine needles in the mix.   
Sometimes too, the memory of her sweet breath does rise 
of Black Jack gum or peppermint and all those summer times.

The search for new spout dandelions the mushrooms other times
And summer’s end brought black blue teeth a blueberry’s remind.
We’d dig for bait with cans of tin, Idella, grandma mine, and rise
from ‘neath the patched quilts of calico so bright.
By chance to fish within the stream, trout in our breakfast mix
along with silly shaped pancakes so placed on china vain.

The beauty of her sky blues eyes never was so vain
that wisps of salt and pepper hair gave time
its only claim. To rise like yeast a child within this mix
to hear a bark of terrier and feel Babe’s tongue remind
of childhood days a Grandma’s house. Idella our bright
find. Take those blessed tender hands and rise

Touch childhood cheek like dough of white and rise
have no dark dwelling thoughts of blue blood in the vein
the thinness of her fragile skin the dimmed light so bright
just remember love full of the better times.
And with the scent of venison and sizzling pans remind
laced with home made butter, fried onions in the mix.

How had Idella’s loveliness from German bloodlines mixed
together with the stalwart Grandpa Trussell’s rise
to birth the lively bunch of child my Mom’s remind?
When in the dark of night the rush of red rolls through my vein
mind light flies and flickers like the candle flame of time
and I return on winged horse within a dream so bright.

Smell the wood smoke from the stove caste iron bright.
See the siblings teasing cat and dog within the mix.
The mantle clock’s brass pendulum sings in time.
Hear the winter wind blow through the rafter’s rise
like tucked in chicks the storms blew all in vain,
now only grand kids live these tales and do remind.

Always in the darkest times I think of my Idella bright
and Gram reminds me of both joy and sorrow’s mix
soon like the wind on weathervane I'll rise to heaven and her kiss.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

Blue Ascendance

In the teasing bouts of an early spring,
One must have patience to watch a flower bloom
From the municipal bud to the ripe decor
From which pursed pedals seek to open.
The contents of sweet pollen rise,
Sway, circle and drift like an aging spirit.

Watch closely; you may find a spirit
Splashing the waters from where life springs
Lively enough to make the ocean rise
Above old towns where civilizations bloomed.
Let your shields down; keep your hearts and minds open,
Permeating love with an earthly decoration.

Strive to laugh and decorate
The petty who set fire to spirits
With the same buoyancy that keeps our eyes open,
Veering from traps that devils spring.
Search beyond the vile bloom,
Taking pride in ashes that fall and rise.

I will soon see myself rise
High enough to cast my decorations
Far enough to make the deserts bloom.
I'll paint the coast blue to match my spirit
As winds grow warm with spring.
Hearts will sing and channels will be open.

Likewise, the pores of the Earth shall one day open.
As that molten lava rises,
Ancient fireballs shall spring,
Coating the ground with horrid decoration,
But we shall lie dormant as spirits
Awaiting new life's bloom.

Winds will cool and aid that bloom,
And, beautifully, we will open,
For every spirit
Rises
And, decoratively,
Springs,

For everything that blooms, rises,
And every open heart is decorated,
And every loving spirit eventually springs.

Copyright © Mike Frampton | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

Head Lines

The traffic was strident, lanes straight
the cars lined the street and froze rigid.
The cop with a glare of pure hate, directed
a line of gate crashers cutting.
The sidewalks segmented in rows, false
lure more tourists into a queue.

Cowed were young folk and old folks all queued
a ménage which was quite far from straight,
all had come for a peck at the Bard, false.
even a librarian or too, who waited with spines rigid,
and scowls on their lined brows like cuts
their critiques would be most direct.

Teens kiss in a clutch most directly 
their faces make braces of queues 
Scalpers hawk to the latecomers cutoff,
the elite meet and greet heading straight
for the red road with a rigid
line of bull filled with falsities.

Inside the antiquated theatre under false
the foot lights lining the aisles direct
Mayor and matron, gran and child in rigid
alleys to velvet seats also queued.
The stare of critic and patron glared straight
64 toward the author so pinned and cutting.

A bright white light cut
the chill air so false
and focused on drape lined straight
each fell open as artist directed
and orchestra swells filled their queue
and the author he sat stark and rigid.

His fate would he find in lines rigid
on the page of tomorrows review, they’d cut
make or they’d break his heart’s queue
these piranhas with smiles so false.
No fate could be more direct
this tonic he must imbibe straight.

So like dominoes, they fall lines rigidly, piercing cuts
Filleted be he by queues false,
in the end words directly aimed, straight to death cue.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

Split Temptation

My temptation is great at times in my life.
At other times, it is lost and no to be found.
I know it will always be there within my mind.
It will confuse me and drive me so very mad.
No longer sad, because I have accepted it so,
As a part of my soul and inner self so bold,

Becoming part of me, I am outwardly bold.
I have accepted so richly, building on my life.
No one I know would ever consider it so.
There are so many others that I have found.
Some accept it; others would think I’m mad.
I hold it dear to me, hiding it inside my mind.

I am glad that no one could ever read my mind.
Though to act upon this temptation is bold,
To observe this thing would make someone mad.
So I hide it well inside and continue in life.
Some day my time will come, peace will be found.
No matter when, I understand that it will become so,

Maybe upon my destiny deal it shall become so.
It will never drive me insane and take away my mind.
Reality will take over someday releasing vision found.
Energy shall be released, no sacrifice to be bold.
There will be a new existence known inside of life.
My spirit will be complete and happy, not mad.

This success shall be gracious, not making anyone mad.
I hope that my happiness fulfilled with making it so.
However, possibly not since I will not know of this life.
For all memories of former life will be out of my mind.
To be able to recall my past, could I chance to be so bold?
Possibly souls are warped together and can be found.

Per chance, I could read these words, knowing what I found.
Though it is a possibility, that then I could go insanely mad.
Whatever happens in my soul again, could I be so bold.
I can only hope and pray that someday it will become so.
That the temptation of mine shall share only one mind,
That the combination of two, share just one life,

That truth is found with loving it so.
No longer, mad, in a calmer mind.
Creating someone bold, and compelling life.

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina |

MY DOUBT GAVE NO INDICATION...

Will I live longer than I suppose to be living...possibly a centenary,
and struggle on a cane to sustain my weakness?
Those beautiful and vibrant years have fled to impose fears,
making my presence unattractive and more blowzy,
and in the present time, I am isolated and frowzy; 
a deteriorated mind feeling the burden of senility?   



My motto wasn't " Conquer and be invincible!" No-first mistake was allowed
to mar my perfect character; body and mind in full accord, blending together, 
so obstinate in defiance to obstruct any possible pleasure...
was it a deference to holiness?  Everywhere explicit posters encouraged promiscuity:
an indulging nation...diverging from the concept of morality!  



And however strong was urge to indulge in wrongful acts incoherently, 
my doubt gave no indication...that I would have gained from my inequity;
and ruin would have wrecked this conscience and wrenched my spirit;
alone to face the sure wrath of the Divine...while wrestling with my lost worth!
One-stand night didn't nurture a sensation so momentary and insipid,
many times, staring in the cold darkness, I was glad that my behavior wasn't lurid!
  


And today new pills promise to give more virility,
causing blindness and a probable, sudden death;
and Lord, my intention is not to use them to harm myself,
the gift of longevity was well-received and is well-kept by me!
Unlikely the times past, when my doubt gave no indication,
now it does so plainly and clearly... not swaying my attention!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

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 |

THE DECEPTIVE ENTITY

Materialistic things fulfill us temporarily...trifling with our emotions, 
but their shallowness is discerned with bitterness:
when they can't save a life even with invoked mercy so tense...
as powerlessness turns into hopelessness;
can faith help us make the painless transaction into the eternal realm,
without fighting the menacing darkness bringing in a tremulous scream?


Separating ourselves from the deceptive entity
is the wisest thing humans can do, to avoid
the misleading fact that anguish doesn't exist,
or that regret isn't stronger than sympathy;
sorrow is a passable trouble, which makes us somber,
and somehow deepens the furrows on our sour faces!


Prophets, saints and holy persons thought deeply and understood this,
devoting their lives to a more rewarding vocation,
which demanded great sacrifices in return for salvation; 
and today, in this era of sophistication and unbelief,
do we see any real ones, not the impostors who seek fame,
and proclaim their intrepid message to shelter themselves from blame?



Unscrupulous financiers, like Madoff, and bankers drain accounts with remorseless intent,
and when they are caught...they choose suicide over punishment;
is this the world you like to live in...with fraudulent individuals, who cause
tougher economic times to satisfy their greed at the expense of others?
Questions can become doubts that draw a negative response to any survey,
sacredness is valued more when we separate ourselves from the deceptive entity! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |

A MERCIFUL AND FORGIVING SOUL

A merciful and forgiving  soul
molds a person's character...
to lead that heart down the path of awareness,
to weather all difficulties with confidence and ease;
surly and sullen looks that plagued its thoughts can disappear,
when those open eyes ascertain every fault.



Battles are desperately fought, only some are won... 
accept a small victory, instead of a great defeat;
understand the mentality of the selfish man,
with his vanity exceeding its capacity,
to gain prestige and impose his superiority
on others who remain silent and weep.



Break down the barriers of injustice and greed,
never step back and fear the one who's preposterous and unfair;
embody the mind of the Almighty in yourself,
and He will guide you through each struggle without hatred or anger!
A flower must grow for us to admire the beauty of its planted seed,
so is courage rapidly growing...fortifying our inner strength.   



A merciful and forgiving soul
abides by the fairest and justest laws,
those laws set by the Supreme Ruler, who posses the holiest mind;
and whoever obeys, regardless of past disobedience, reaps its rewards in this lifetime. 
A merciful and forgiving soul...
doesn't wait for tears to fall, or pitiful words to wipe clean anyone's offense.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009






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