01-08-2026, 06:33 AM
@milo
So this doesn't match the format of a sestina and it is throwing me off as I read - is it done this way to way to represent a mess as in a messy sestina?
Sestinas for me already sound messy so I wanted to see if I could write a decent free verse poem using a traditional form. If the repetition could work, sound more ...normal? Then i thought i had to put sestina in the title because it couldnt stand on its own, almost like the form is literally holding it all together. I appreciate your consideration and feedback
Maybe if I rearrange my room,
I'll have a fresh perspective on my life.
Organize the clutter in my mind
to paint a better picture on the page.
Starting over means another mess
to clean up once again, and then Each year,
make another mess to clean Next year.
I blame my inspiration on my room.
Clearly though, the issue is the mess
that isn't representing my whole life.
Maybe if it fits nice on a page,
the guests who have to see the trash wont mind.
No one comes to see though, nevermind.
I'll break the cycle starting now this year.
Rather than erasing, fill the page
with knick knacks, junk, and nonsense in my room,
smell the filth developing through life
in cold damp hidden corners of the mess,
anything to hide that I'm a mess.
Projecting my self worth into your mind,
self controlled illusions as if life
itself would end again for real this year,
legacy determined by my room
instead of what I've written on the page.
Tear it out, start over, turn the page,
and try again. Just add it to the mess.
Trash can's buried somewhere in the room,
I think its over there. I had in mind
better visions of myself these years,
these culminating moments of my life.
Isn't this the meaning though, of life?
To constantly be struggling through each page,
pages stacked on pages, days to years,
more years and wants and needs, a life of mess!
...structure and obedience to mind
the other people... who may want in the room.
It will take a year to clean this mess.
I'll pull another page and share my mind,
but for all my life, there isn't room.
So this doesn't match the format of a sestina and it is throwing me off as I read - is it done this way to way to represent a mess as in a messy sestina?
Sestinas for me already sound messy so I wanted to see if I could write a decent free verse poem using a traditional form. If the repetition could work, sound more ...normal? Then i thought i had to put sestina in the title because it couldnt stand on its own, almost like the form is literally holding it all together. I appreciate your consideration and feedback
Maybe if I rearrange my room,
I'll have a fresh perspective on my life.
Organize the clutter in my mind
to paint a better picture on the page.
Starting over means another mess
to clean up once again, and then Each year,
make another mess to clean Next year.
I blame my inspiration on my room.
Clearly though, the issue is the mess
that isn't representing my whole life.
Maybe if it fits nice on a page,
the guests who have to see the trash wont mind.
No one comes to see though, nevermind.
I'll break the cycle starting now this year.
Rather than erasing, fill the page
with knick knacks, junk, and nonsense in my room,
smell the filth developing through life
in cold damp hidden corners of the mess,
anything to hide that I'm a mess.
Projecting my self worth into your mind,
self controlled illusions as if life
itself would end again for real this year,
legacy determined by my room
instead of what I've written on the page.
Tear it out, start over, turn the page,
and try again. Just add it to the mess.
Trash can's buried somewhere in the room,
I think its over there. I had in mind
better visions of myself these years,
these culminating moments of my life.
Isn't this the meaning though, of life?
To constantly be struggling through each page,
pages stacked on pages, days to years,
more years and wants and needs, a life of mess!
...structure and obedience to mind
the other people... who may want in the room.
It will take a year to clean this mess.
I'll pull another page and share my mind,
but for all my life, there isn't room.