Sestina Peace Poems | Sestina Poems About Peace

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

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THE SUNNY ISLAND OF CAPRI

The sunniest island,
with its Sea Stacks standing out
of the Tyrrhenian Sea,
shimmers as sailboats glide
in timeless serenity...
Paradise's duplication in man's heart.


Winter brings no drifts of snow,
only mild breezes from Sicily,
and the tourist is always on the go,
exploring, discovering and wondering 
how this small island came to be...
when God stopped and began creating.


The sunniest island
with pastel houses perched on cliffs edges,
and ruins of castles and villas on rocky hills;
the loveliest island
in the Mediterranean garden...terraces
decked with common brooms and oleanders.


And as the mists vanish towards evening,
the quails are seen flying above, while the lemons' 
perfume is hard to resist...the beautiful landscapes are revealed;
sail away in the bluest sea ever seen by the human's eye...
spend the starriest night gazing over its glistening waves:
a traveler's dream realized in the sunny island of Capri!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

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CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION IN MY CITY

Many Christmas Trees are seen
around the Yule season in my city;
they all are very tall and beautiful,
but the Rockefeller Plaza's Norway spruce
is the most gigantic and spectacular
with its multicolored, gleaming bulbs.   


Come to the city, where kids turn into angels:
they seem real cherubs being sent by Heaven itself,
and these angelic messengers love to play 
their carols to announce Jesus joyful birth;
come closer, look up and hear those voices greatly
rejoicing in this bright corner of the earth! 


Sit down in front of it and dream
of the gifts stacked underneath your pretty Christmas tree,
but the most precious is this one, only decorated with lights;
and its green color and sheer simplicity,
can begin making a glorious memory!
And which carol will you sing for the crowds?


Christmastime is a wonderful experience on New York City's streets: 
stores, pubs, restaurants and shops dress up with dazzling decorations,
every street has a Santa ringing a bell and spreading good cheers;
where else can you find kind folks wishing strangers a Merry Christmas? 
On Christmas Eve, Saint Patrick's Cathedral echoes with hymns...
and Child Jesus smiles at children as they caress His soft face.  


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

PEACEFUL TIMES BY THIS CALM RIVER

Huddled among massive rocks,
at the bottom of a barren cliff,
breathing in the strongest aroma of jasmines,
watching hordes of seagulls hover over an abandoned ship;
pensively and attentively spending peaceful times by calm river,
geese see me and slowly approach me to share some of this enthralling wander!



The flow of the river is constantly intriguing,
sometimes slow, other times rushing in the manner of a surge,
making the passing barges resemble timber floating
to their unknown destination, unless the currents change
and they will be crashing on the sandy blanks to dry out and decay;
the same fate awaits the fowls when their bodies become old and die!



Rare beauty I ravishingly behold while my attention is not swayed,
the thickness of the trees won't let the eyes penetrate their wilderness beyond,
only the restless ravens know their habitat and venture themselves in those woods;
I am groped by their mystery, but I dare not enter into the untamed animal' world,
as the woodpeckers continue making their noises to scare away any possible predators...
while moans of creatures are heard: are they attacked by wild dogs, or ferocious wolves?  
 

  
The glow of the descending sun diminishes and a chill pervades my body,
my Windbreaker is the perfect attire to wear, and not make me feel the breeze's coolness;
the darker colors appearing above give indication of the arrival of a spectacular sunset,
those hues change brightness, and somehow seem to vanish as clouds impose their treat...
a storm wind coming, or is nature imitating our human nature to take control of destiny,
to spoil my peaceful times by this calm river...shouldn't I be angered by their hostility?  
 
 
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

Dark is the Night

With day full of sleep, moon falls in the river.
Its beams danced on water with shadows of trees
to a beat of rhythm from wind till it died 
and buried in music of quietness of night. 
With perfume of flowers giving weight to air
cool of dark beauty night’s peace granted prayer.

Cathedral as reverent as echoed Lords prayer
as gentle as songs by frogs from the stream.
Harmony hanging in a gemstone sharp air,
with touch of sadness as dim sparklers in tyrees
while chirping of crickets brings richness to night
This will be the hour which wretchedness died.

The stars in the heaven pronounces day's death,
still speaks of the coming of fresh morning prayer
as glorious moon-glow reigns above night
while weak light reflects off bountiful river
twinkling in beams through branches of trees,
gives a roar of stillness through paper thin air.

The sky and the dark and the shadows of air
The river, moon and the sun as it died.
As leaves slowly descend from generous trees.
An answer it seems to nights granted prayers
it all means little to approaching rivers
which has born witness of deceit of the night.

So quick in the darkness will charge storms of night?
Critical lighting strikes in tranquilized air
heaved by the wind once magnanimous river
thunder and rain, wind and foreboding of dead 
comes terror and fear and murmuring prayers
amongst shacking of limbs and bowing of trees.

Fierce is the storm and with uprooting of trees
as wind rips and cries through cover of darkness.
All creatures will witness the dark Devil’s prayer
as thunder splits atoms of wild burdened air.
The night  cannot sleep till storm’s ferry dies
and silence of night returns to the rivers.

Storms of the night and night’s peace granted prayer.
Shadows of trees and moonbeams on the river 
but rising of sun will bring death to night’s air.




Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007

Details | Sestina | |

PAST THE GRAIN FIELDS

Past the grain fields clanks the old train,
and it goes beyond the fertile valley;
then it vanishes amid the swaying hills,
not too far from the massive castle
built by the Normans, and it's pelted by rain,
washing the pollen off the golden yarrows.


I saw many wild kids playing with the yarrows,
laughing and hurling them at the passing train;
these rascals weren't intimidated by the rain
as the scorching sun reappeared in the valley...
reaching the steaming walls of the massive castle,
all robins were happy to take flight over the hills.


Somehow the lilacs survived on the eastern hills,
and quick relief eased the discontented appearance of the yarrows,
their drooping stems struggle to stand erect by the stately castle
only to be brought back to life by the whistling train;
but many were taken away by the flood straight to the valley...
they were too feeble to challenge the fury of the rain. 


Some occasianal sunray invited the quails to defy the rain,
as if harmony had a chance to return to the misty hills;
and they fluttered their wet wings and departed from the valley.
By instinct, throngs of butterflies flocked to the joyful yarrows;
people returning from the big city saw that spectacle from the train,
dreaming of a quiter past life inside the protective walls of the castle.


Falcons were the quickest and safest messangers of the castle,
they carried letters in their strong beaks despite of the rain;
and they never were distracted by anything, but they were faster than a train...
the journey was long...many days not soaring over the andulating hills,
or watching the dames of many charms picking up lovely yarrows;
and those gentry faces missed their adored falcons gone to the remote valley.  


The early-risers, peasants with callous hands, left the semi-dark valley;
and climbing the rocky slopes abundant with olive groves that led to the castle,
and walking they captured meadows swarming with awakening, gleeful yarrows...
remembering how sad and miserable they were being soaked by the pouring rain!
They sought shelter, but no tree stretched their brenches like they protected the hills; 
oh, they didn't mind the whistling and the clink-clank of the early morning train! 


Valley subsidized to darkness, finally clears of the boring rain;
castle guarded by the falcons disappears in the tenebrous hills...
yarrows fall asleep and cannot hear the whistle the distant train.


Entered in Jared Pickett's contest, " The Sestina "






 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sestina | |

Every Now and Then

She has her moments 
of blissfully naked self-revelation 
entirely safe. Fear and doubt have no meaning 
her fullness and loveliness, grace and perfection 
beaming unhindered through infinite space 
absorbed in joy, reflected as love.

She falls in love. 
The pleasures of hours pass like mere moments 
sighs of contentment expand empty space 
oozing with wonder at sheer revelation 
of made-for-eachotherness, soul-mate perfection 
ripe sensuality, rich primal meaning.

She searches for meaning 
confused by words that speak nothing of love 
desperately scrubs to restore to perfection 
an ego-free union of life in the moment 
she struggles to unearth a new revelation 
oblivious to needing some space.

She ponders dark space 
devoid of all meaning 
no revelation 
no love 
bereft moments 
blind to perfection.

She senses perfection 
pervading the intimate vastness of space 
silently, patiently buffering the moments 
who clamor and bargain and wrestle for meaning 
heedless of ludicrous contexts of love 
with cunning they seek to prevent revelation.

She receives revelation 
willing at last to accept her perfection 
of pure bright mysterious trembling love 
existing in all points of time and of space 
“thou art god, god art thou” finally has meaning 
eternity no longer parsed into moments.

Transformed by revelation, at home in space, 
birthmarks of perfection, saturated with meaning 
breathing and pulsing the rhythms of love.  She has her moments.

Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sestina | |

AN ENRICHING EVENT

I ask for nothing,
just relying on Providence;
surprisingly I will experience
an enriching event
that fate has sent...
does anybody wonder why I sing?



I age, and furthermore I feel younger;
wrinkles appear to attest their reminder
that my troubles are of another sort,
and despite more unpleasant occurrences confirming my tort:
these upheavals are raging storms that will soon pass,
and this phase is the ultimate test!



Destiny, unfold this enriching event,
and usher in an age of contentment;
the vitality of these years don't reflect fragility:
resolute and strong, hopeful and diligent...
I can face any hurdle and defy tragedy,
and the hardest challenge is finding trust!  
 


An enriching event was predicted in my natal chart  
and astrologers are putting much effort in their research,
to assure me that a better tomorrow is coming;
and should I place my total trust in them,
and catch a rare glimpse and be content...
but Who has given me a last chance at living?



I could never be guided by the unpredictable stars,
what I am amazed about them:  is their mysterious glimmer,
but fortune and wealth is the damnation of the sinner,
of that one cursing God for all the plagues and sorrows
inflicted upon them...to punish them for all that was taken without honor
and appreciation;  and wouldn't they envy the one opening the golden door?



My harvest is finally ripe, and spacious fields offer their abundant fruits,
every bird has a more sonorous song to make me feel vibrantly alive:
o larks and nightingales, let your joyful ode reach the Heavens above!
My blessings have been too numerous to be counted and this joy exalts 
Him with a gratefulness that is equal to every breath I inhale and exhale;
when peace blends with silence:  a realistic Heaven is an enriching event!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

FOLDING AND EMBRACING SOMEONE IN EXTREME PAIN

Folding and embracing someone in extreme pain
with the compassion of a merciful saint:
when those moribund eyes look downward,
as breath becomes heavy and life can't sustain
its heartbeat , but those hands are too weak to clasp;
give your last gift, say the softest word...



Comfort and be comforted when the final hour comes for all,
when a person suddenly dies, a conceived baby will be born;
it's a cycle that keeps our human race from extinction:
observe the animal kingdom, never inactive or slow,
even trees and flowers duplicate themselves in jollification 
by the kindness of every wind of the actual season...



Folding and embracing someone in extreme pain,
someone of a different race, not making distinction of color;
everyone of us is a beautiful and perfect creation of God,
so let the same love flow and leave your prejudice beyond:
see through the eyes of charity, never divide and compare:
the uniqueness of an individual can be shared by all...   



The greed and wickedness of Mankind can't control the relentless rush,
until immense harm is done:  wars are fought and lives are lost by the thousands,
and the spilling of blood is not regarded as guilt on their remorseless hands,  
many weeping mothers lean over their dead children, with more viable in their wombs:
summon the evil man to the Almighty God whose judgement is harsh,
and be assured that the Divine Justice will make them toss in their inescapable tombs...
  



Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina | |

NOBLE TROUBADOUR

Noble troubadour making untrue verse,
while traveling from town to town on the dustiest roads,
reciting the lamenting lyrics to yourself,
and the echo is louder than words of folly growing within;
hold your anger inside, let it explode
in the castle's Great Hall, where all will listen, indeed! 



Monarchy is an undefeatable fortress,
and below you seem not to fret;
enter it when the trumpets announce
the king's arrival in a golden coach
pulled by stallions who snort at your sight,
but you fearlessly follow them before the wooden gate closes on the bridge.



Noble troubadour decrying a denied liberty, making
your living writing undesirable, undeserved odes,
you're forced to lie and please your demanding king
who manipulates your behavior by tight strings;
should you offer no praises or allegiance to the crown...
you'll be charged with disloyalty and treason! See yourself in the torture room!



There's a limit to your patience bearing the guilt,
and be able to lift it off your chest...it will crush you under its weight,
until your reason turns into discernible madness,
and rising up from your sore knees, you'll relinquish your duty...
to regain your freedom from a kingdom built on obedience and vanity;
and what will be the the outcome of your refusal to bow down?...The peace of a free spirit!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009