SestinaSestina is a type of a poem that contains six stanzas, each stanza having six lines, while a concluding seventh stanza has three lines called “envoi.”  It derives its name from a fixed structure and characteristics. The sestina does not rhyme but has a rhythmic quality due to the repetition of the final six words of the first stanza that recur in the remaining poem, following an end word pattern.

Darling, Would You Please Pick Up Those Books?How many times do I have to sayget rid of the books off the goddamn floordo you have any idea how it feelsto step over books you wrote about herbloody hell you sadist what kind of manare you all day long those fecking booksin my way for 3 years your acclaimed bookstell me now what do you have to say for yourself you think you're such a mansilent brooding pondering at the floorpretending you're bored when I mention herfine change the subject ask "Do I feellike I need more medication" NO I don't feellike I need more medication it's the booksdon't you see don't you see it's herwhy don't you listen to anything I sayand for god's sake books on the floorare a safety hazard remember that manfrom Cork who nearly died fine that manfell over a hurley not a book but I don't feelyou're getting the point the point is that a flooris not an intelligent place for booksbooks I have to see and books that sayexactly where and how you shagged herwhat shirt she wore before you shagged herI can write a book too about some man better still about you I can saysomething to demonize you how would you feelabout that ha ha why don't I write a bookabout how I hoover your sodding floorand how you've never once hoovered your floorwhy can't I be a muse why can't I be a "her"what does one have to do to be in a bookaround here do I have to be dead for a manto write me a poem how do you think it feelsto be non muse material can't you sayyou feel for me what you felt for hercan't you say I'm better than that womancan't you get those books off the floor?

Sestina

Sestina by Elizabeth BishopSeptember rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old grandmother sits in the kitchen with the child beside the Little Marvel Stove, reading the jokes from the almanac, laughing and talking to hide her tears. 

She thinks that her equinoctial tears and the rain that beats on the roof of the house were both foretold by the almanac, but only known to a grandmother. The iron kettle sings on the stove. She cuts some bread and says to the child, 

It's time for tea now; but the child is watching the teakettle's small hard tears dance like mad on the hot black stove, the way the rain must dance on the house. Tidying up, the old grandmother hangs up the clever almanac 

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac hovers half open above the child, hovers above the old grandmother and her teacup full of dark brown tears. She shivers and says she thinks the house feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove. 

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove. I know what I know, says the almanac. With crayons the child draws a rigid house and a winding pathway. Then the child puts in a man with buttons like tears and shows it proudly to the grandmother. 

But secretly, while the grandmother busies herself about the stove, the little moons fall down like tears from between the pages of the almanac into the flower bed the child has carefully placed in the front of the house. 

Time to plant tears, says the almanac. 

The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove and the child draws another inscrutable house.

A Girl Called Jane (A Sestina) by Lamar A MoorclarkI think about her all the timeThe look in her eyes and the way she smiles, and I wishThat someday, somehow I could be her starTo hold her close and keep her warm when it rainsBut for now, all I could do is waitFor her to notice me, a girl I call Jane.

She was the first girl I noticed, this girl I call JaneAfter a year full of misery and wasted time.Like a pretty rainbow after the rain,She came into my life~breathtaking yet so unreachable like a starSo I tried to hide how I felt and made myself wishThat she was never worth the wait.

I try hard each day to avoid looking at her eyes, like starsThey shine so brightly even when it rainsAnd it never gets easier every timeTo just sit around and hope and waitFor her to notice me, that girl I call JaneBut I can dream, can't I? I can dream, and I can wish.

The moment finally came when I could no longer waitFor the girl forever, the girl I call JaneSo I sent her a message~a secret wishThat I'd be worthy for a minute of her timeAnd one fateful night when everything went right, we talked about the starsAs the seconds turned into hours while I stood there in the rain.

But the sun has permanently set in my life, and permanently it rainsPermanently I'm left with nothing but to permanently dream and to permanently waitOn a bed of nails without her, without JaneAnd every night as I close my eyes, I'd wishFor another chance to be with her~another timeBut I'm not the one that she wants; I'm not her star.

And if God could grant me just one wish,May she crash into me like a shooting starBecause my heart's gone cold from all this waitFrom all these thoughts concerning JaneBut if this love is a thunder, then bring on the rainTo help me drown her out for the last time.

Tonight I'll look up at the sky and make a wish upon a starBut until the day it comes true, I'd wait here forever patiently in vain under the rainFor time to find me a place in the diary of Jane.