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Sestina Mystery Poems | Sestina Poems About Mystery

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

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Details | Sestina |

What Thing More Beautiful?

If there be some one thing more breautiful
Than to lie with you in warmth and dark,
I would fear that it might burn my soul away
Before the purging purity of light
Its perfection must diffuse.
Your love is all the beauty I may stand.

I carry what we make within this dark,
Our human near-perfection, out into the light
Each day; each moment as I stand
Against the ravages of life I take away
Those stains that fall diffuse
Upon my careless soul, and mar the beautiful.

It is the love of you that brings the light
Into the confusion of my doubtings' dark
Securing what fitful fate may bear away,
That grants the strength to stand
Opposed to all things foul, in alliance with the beautiful,
Committed to a hope as noble as it is diffuse.

There is a light that will not pierce the dark
As we lie conjoined, our love diffuse
About us as the night in little measures leaks away;
It would but blind the eye, if seen, this sacred light
Before which no ill thought may stand,
This light that paints the unseen beautiful.

All worthy things are also most diffuse
As are the light, the dark, the beautiful.
Their meanings advance, recede, then turn away
From our poor apprehension's gropings dark,
Even as our hope moves us to apply what light 
We may, to illumine that before which we stand.

So in the end, my mind, struck dumb, turns away
From the mystery, in consult to stand
With the heart within the lovethick dark
Where you lie near and shining without light
Within that sphere of all good things diffuse
About us, incomprehensible and beautiful.


No; there can be to me no thing so beautiful
As the light of you shining in unbroken dark:
Your love is all the beauty I may stand.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2007


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 |

The Dance

Strangers undulating with rhythmic ease 
Igniting the air with ecstasy 
While lights flash in spectacular colour 
Hot breath creates an intensity 
Of steam rising up through delirious sound; 
While damp, red silk caresses my skin 

Sweat beading on my baking skin 
As I slip through the spaces with practiced ease 
I am captured by the rapturous sound 
Of collective want and ecstasy 
Immersed in a world of fevered intensity 
Exchanging black and white for oblivious colour 
 
Feeling the music radiate wild colour 
As I slide across his skin 
His gaze, unmasking my passion and intensity, 
Holds me with confident ease 
Contact sparking transfixing ecstasy 
Our words are lost in booming sound 

The vibrations of his voice, a captivating sound 
My eyes temporarily blinded by colour 
I am clothed in a shiver of ecstasy 
As his breath strokes my skin 
Pulled together with incredible ease 
By impetuous desire’s intensity 
 
Our breath shallow, we move with intensity 
Lost in overwhelming sound 
Moving together with unfamiliar ease 
Overtaken by scent, sensation and colour 
Passion radiates from our skin 
Building in agonizing ecstasy 

The particles between us electric with ecstasy 
The pumping music loses its intensity 
As we lose the barriers between our skins 
Touching with breathless sound 
I feel the rising heat and colour 
As our lips come together with ease 

Our touching skin deadening all external sound 
In the intensity of dark-lit colour 
Our passionate ecstasy gives way to comforting ease

Copyright © Jenni Munn | Year Posted 2011


Details | Sestina |

The Mystery Of Love

The Mystery Of Love
I haven't wrote a poem
since the day he left 
My words don't sound the same anymore ,
but still I write,
there's no reason to write
he will never hear my words
He has started a new life, he's a daddy to be!
I think about it and that could have been me,
as much as I love him, am thankful it's not
Happiness doesn't last forever
That's life
I can now think of him without shattering a tear
Is it cause I've moved on
or cause I accepted the hardest fact,
that his not coming back?
Love is still the biggest mystery
For those who accept its failure & achievement 
By heart and soul.
Is that true love?which never make two souls into one soul.
Love is too much creative,it fill the colours in life 
And those are fake lovers who fail to accept you.
Love creat feeling 
Feeling creat positive relation 
Positive relation makes family.
Atlast mystery of love cann’t solve 
By fake people.

Copyright © Aliza Kashmala Kiran | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sestina |

ANGELIC LULLABY

She  holds you spellbound, tempts every sigh,

her voice sedutive by its lullabye,

Her meaning envoking the unspoken word

Ever tender the call of her lovesong

This angel who thrives on the air of your breath

The movements of her heavenly rhythm


Closer  calls the invitation to feel her rhythm

Succumb to her female sigh

Ever so gently she releases her breath

The gentle sleep of her restful lullabye

Bequiled you fall to the music of her lovesong

With nothing more than the unspoken word


What secret does she keep so closely guarded? the unspoken word

The mystery of her movements swaying to her rhythm

How could a mortal man resist such a lovesong

His resolve given in a surrendering sigh

Returning his words in anticipation of her lullabye

He barely manages to catch his breath


His chest bursting with the urgency to take a breath

Her eyes adoring yet still  there's the unspoken word

Her song intensifys a passionate lullabye

The wind caressing nature to respond in rhythm

His need urgent as he pleads with loving sigh

He know's the ending of this Angel's lovesong


This captivation held by the chorus of her lovesong

How could such an angelic understand yet allow such loss of breath?

Again his strength fails him as he hears the relentless sigh

A language alien yet familiar, the assurances of the unspoken word

Delicately the harps resound the perfect rhythm

As his soul escapes to listen evermore to the enchanting lullabye


The sensations of her sound unbearable as she continues her lullabye

What kind of music is this she sings, this immortal lovesong

That holds a mystery unto itself, the defiance of her rhythm

Still he holds to his last dying breath

As she witholds the saving grace of the unspoken word

And all he can do is sigh


As this lovesong continues to play, immersed within the lullabye

His breath weakened to the faintest heartfelt sigh

Surrendering completely to her rhythm, the beauty revealed, the unspoken word.

Copyright © julie Cottingham | Year Posted 2008