Lynn Burton at Colorful Pen posted a half Sestina for the August Challenge of Casting Bricks and what a delightful challenge it is! One perfect Saturday morning over coffee at a favorite little spot and the words flowed easily from her perfect set-up. Her words are in bold and mine follow.
As I look at the calendar I realize that August draws to a close and so I begin to consider a new half poem of my own for Jilly’s September Challenge of Casting Bricks, which I will open on Friday, September 1st. Of course, there is no expiration on the August link, so feel free to keep writing! Care to join us in our collaborative fun? Just click HERE or on the perma-link on my side-bar. Everyone is welcome!
Sometimes those lemons that are squeezed from life
can leave a sour taste in the mouths of children
and adulthood thrusts upon them less time
than they had before to play and dream.
What they wouldn’t give for some special words
to carry with them, to hold and treasure.
Like the attic trunk overflowing with treasure
immeasurable memories before life
became chaos, before silence was words
before the steely grip of a child’s
nightmares tangled with hopeful dreams,
tripping along with the angry flow of time.
Resilient are they, and know in time
the importance of what’s to be treasured;
tap dance on the devil’s schemes, dreaming
on pale blue skies, contemplating life
as only the wonder of a child
can bring. Chalk-dust scribble all the words.
When mystery meets meaning, say the words,
the ones that had been trapped in time
hidden behind the windows of childhood’s
eyes; of secret languages and treasure
boxes holding pull-toys and fairy tale lives
lived in that realm of day dreams
in which they embrace that dreamy
place where lemons ripen like wordless
images of guavas on the Live
Oak, unnatural and timeless,
blossoming lines and phrases to treasure
when stumbling graceful into that second childhood
gathering into the caved breast those children
of your children to nestle and dream
there, hearing the rhythm of your treasured
heartbeats in iambic measures and words.
So looking out across the hazes of time
you see countless generations living
inhaling and dreaming of their own lives,
of those childish treasures of times
yet to be and glories gone by without the hindrance of words
© Burton / Lyman Collaborative Sestina
Jilly's 
Jilly, there is no doubt that your poetry is richer for the childhood treasures (rhymes, nursery and otherwise) upon which you suckled! The legends and epic poetry you’ve ingested hasn’t served you badly either. This is a masterful collaboration. Lynn’s part begged the poet to come forth (even with it being the dreaded sestina!), and your part dovetails flawlessly to make the whole. Bravo to the two of you!
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Thank you! I found Lynn’s words so easy to build from.
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Jilly! I absolutely love this. When you told me your completion of the sestina was coming up, I knew it was in good hands. I’m once again blown away by your brilliant and seamless writing. I want to print this so I can read and re-read a collaboration that has filled me with great joy. Thank you, my friend.
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That pleases me so much! You made it easy by setting it up so well. Sometimes, the greartest challenge is in getting started. 🙂
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That’s for sure. It probably takes me twice as long to get started as it does to actually write. *Open Word. Look through albums on phone. Listen to music. Need something to eat. Take a nap.*
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Hahaha! You make me feel so normal!
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This is an altogether lovely poem, with more than first meets the eye. Thinking about it honestly I couldn’t have told on my own where the break in it was. The last line is my favourite, “without the hindrance of words”. Just because for a poet who relies on words, seeing them this way is very interesting! Awesome job both of you, this poem is amazing! I will have to dive into casting a few bricks myself soon, it seems like such fun!
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Hooray! I would simply LOVE for you to join in, Zoe! I’m glad you liked this one; Lynn really handed me a great start. I liked that last line, too. Sometimes the words get in the way of the poetry, don’t they? In heaven I hope that poetry is a liquid jewel that we drink. 🙂
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