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Getting Into the “Box” of Poetic Form
When Everyone Tells Us to Get Out
When I first heard of the poetic form called sestina, it sounded difficult and ancient. It’s a form we’ve inherited from 12th century, France.
And it’s shaped by “repetition.” Repetition can be clunky and deadening. Repeating words in fiction brings on questions of intention and carelessness. Not necessarily fair words! But…
Repetition can also become invocation, magical and contemplative. In the work of creating, repetition can be a study, an evolution. Might even be a source of humour.
I’ve also borrowed from this poetic form — heavily — and applied the framework to prose, to journal-writing, to thinking, and circling back to a resting place. If poetry isn’t your thing, read through this post anyway, and consider applying the principle to other works, or even to the brainstorming of a project: write half a dozen words associated with a project, and play! The longevity of the sestina — like any longevity — is about play. Play sustains.
Traditionally, sestina is the challenge of taking six words and rotating through six stanzas in a pre-determined ordering, followed by a closing three lines — an envoi. That’s the basic mechanics.