Sestina Day 75: A Trip in The Mountains

I haven’t done a “take six words and see where they take me” sestina in a while. This is six words given to me yonks ago by Alex Wrekk, which totally stumped me, until, today, sitting on the sofa with the cat, I found the answer.
Drugs.
It’s still a bit weird.

There is a village high up in the mountains
The houses there are small, but very pretty
But way up there, it is a funny thing:
Up there you’ll see the odd unusual flower
And sometimes, you might see a pterodactyl
Fly screeching like a faulty carburetor

Shall I compare thee to a carburetor
As thou fliest shrieking, high above the mountains?
It seems improper that a pterodactyl
Should sound so motorized, or look so pretty.
As bright and delicate as any flower
It really is the most amazing thing

If I’d not seen it, it’s the sort of thing
I’d not believe. “If there’s a carburetor
On earth, there can’t be dinosaurs, my flower,
Not even in remote and misty mountains!
And probably I’d think that you were pretty
Stupid to believe a pterodactyl

Could be alive, but, it’s a pterodactyl!
It really is! It’s not the sort of thing
I’d lie about. And why is it so pretty?
Why does it sound just like a carburetor?
Have I gone crazy, high up in the mountains?
Did I ingest some mind expanding flower?

I must have done! A mushroom or a flower…
I can’t really be seeing pterodactyls!
Perhaps it is the air up in the mountains.
That’s done some kind of terrifying thing
To me. I’m wheezing like a carburetor
That’s on the blink, but everything’s so pretty…

I think I’ve gone insane, in fact I’m pretty
Sure I have. Each blade of grass , each flower
Is psychedelic. I’m a carburetor!
I’m riding on magic pterodactyl!
And I am not afraid of anything!
That’s handy, as I’m falling down the mountains!

Last words? Well, “carburetor” isn’t pretty
I’d rather it be “mountain” yes, or “flower.”
Or “pterodactyl”. No. My last word’s “thing”.

Sestina Day 74: Dobby’s Lovesong

Emma suggested a sestina about Harry Potter. I think the entire HP story works well as a tragic unrequited lovestory about someone with crushingly low self esteem and major self harm issues falling deeply in love with the local golden boy, who can never return that devotion with anything more than kindness. I think Dobby is my favourite character.

It is in Dobby’s soul to want to work
But more to gain approval from his master.
When Dobby was an elflet, long ago,
A bad, dark wizard family bought Dobby
And they were cruel, but Dobby didn’t care
But then they tried to hurt poor Harry Potter.

Dobby had often heard of Harry Potter.
The boy on whom the death-curse wouldn’t work
Who lost his parents, had no one to care
For him, and Dobby wished he was his master
So he could take good care of him, so Dobby
Disobeyed his wicked masters just to go

And try to convince Harry not to go.
The first time Dobby met Great Harry Potter,
The honour was almost too much for Dobby!
Dobby had been so bad, and left his work,
And had to hurt himself, because his master
Would be so angry. Harry seemed to care.

Why should someone as great as Harry care
Whether a dreg like me should stay or go?
He didn’t see why I should have a master
Gave me a sense of self. Oh Harry Potter!
How I did love you! From then on my work
Was all for you. So you would care for Dobby!

I loved to hear you call my name “ Hey Dobby!”
It made me think, perhaps, that you could care
For me as I for you. I came to work
Near you after you made me free to go.
I lived for your kind words, my Harry Potter!
Though I was free, you’d always be my master.

I helped you fight against my former master,
Who would have thought it: timid little Dobby
Fighting against the dark with Harry Potter!
And when death came, at last I knew you cared
You held me, wept, and it was time to go.
Most precious moment in a life of work.

Oh Harry Potter, Most beloved master!
So hard you worked, and still had time for Dobby!
So I don’t care. For you, I’m glad to go.

Sestina Day 73: The Island

This was suggested by @HannahHobbit, who wanted a poem about islands and also suggested the words. I tried a sort of lilting metre, which may be why it came out like guided meditation. I don’t know

At first, all you can see is the sea
And then, slowly, the shape of a castle
Up high. Mountains with ribbons of roads
Which wind, sinuous, over the land,
Quite close. Now you can hear all the birds
Your boat speeds ever closer. You travel

Alone just for the sheer love of travel-
Ing. Smile, Breathe in the taste of the sea.
Look up, watching the flight of the birds
You reach harbour, then make for the castle.
Enjoy walking, your feet on the land
At last. Rambling, ignoring the roads

For what need do you have of the roads?
Unmapped, this is the best way to travel!
You climb, scramble, enjoying the land
Look back, over your shoulder, the sea
So far, now that you’re close to the castle
Up high, here all alone with the birds,

You watch, naming the species of birds
Who fly up where there aren’t any roads.
Go on, soon you will be at the castle
You know, now why you wanted to travel.
So calm, nothing but birdsong and sea
At peace, tranquil, alone on the land

You gaze, happily, scanning the land
For sheep, rabbits and rare island birds
Below, dolphins at play in the sea
No cars ruin the peace on the roads
This place, too far for most folk to travel
Is yours: you are the king of the castle.

You rest, lean on the old ruined castle
At one, now, with this beautiful land
Refreshed, after a hard day of travel
And lulled by the duet of the birds
And the wind, watching the darkening roads
As the sun, slowly sinks into the sea.

You came, travelling, up to the castle.
To see all that you could of the land
Saw birds fluttering over the roads.

Sestina Day 72: reflections on IDAHO

Suggested by Cara!
We all went into town to make some noise
And wave our flags, and listen to some speeches
We know that homophobia’s not dead
It’s tough, throughout the world, to be a queer.
And many think they have a right to hate
And persecute the ones who are not straight.

We went to town to set the record straight.
We blew our whistles: made a lot of noise.
To show that we do not accept the hate
They named and shamed those countries, in the speeches,
Which make very dangerous to be queer.
The countries where you may well end up dead

There’s parents who would rather have a dead
Son than a child who wasn’t straight!
Such is the hate you’re facing, if you’re queer.
And so we felt we had to make a noise.
We used the rights we have to make our speeches
For silence just gives power to the hate.

But did we really help to stop the hate?
Will fewer frightened teens, now, end up dead,
Because somebody stood and made some speeches?
Did we convince the narrow minded straight
By waving flags and making lots of noise
That there is nothing wrong with being queer?

Who knows? At least I can be proud and queer
Because I am protected from the hate
So many people bear me. All the noise
We make becomes a signal: we’re not dead.
And all your preaching cannot make us straight
Though many mouths are gagged, there will be speeches!

It is our duty, then, to make our speeches.
We have the right to say that we are queer.
That in this world, not everybody’s straight.
For those who cannot stand against the hate
Knowing that if they did, they’d soon be dead:
For all their sakes, it’s time to make some noise!

And if you’re straight, come: listen to the speeches.
And make some noise, although it might feel queer,
Till hate and homophobia are dead.

Sestina Day 71: Fly Away

Honestly, I’m not sure where this came from or what’s going on here…

Your daughter watches bluetits from the window
And chuckles as a squirrel starts to climb
The birdfeeder. Look! Look! Again! Again!
Her pudgy fist knocks on the glass. “No! Naughty!
The seeds are for the birdies, go away!”
Your child, the angry champion of birds.

Since she was tiny, she has loved the birds.
High-contrast magpies hopping near the window
Would draw her gaze: she’d never look away.
As soon as she was old enough to climb
She’d pull down the Birds of Britain book down: “Naughty!”
Demand you read it out to her again

“I want to see the kingfisher again!”
She’s only happy looking at the birds
You must admit, she’s very rarely naughty
As long as she can look out at the window.
She’ll smile and watch a dull tree creeper climb.
So still and small, they never fly away.

She’s quite engrossed, and so you turn away.
A minute later, you turn back again
She isn’t there. You wonder, did she climb
As little as she is, to chase the birds?
Could she have got herself right through the window?
It’s really not like her to be so naughty.

You start to panic: “come on, don’t be naughty!
It’s very bad to hide yourself away.”
You can’t stop staring at the open window.
You’ve heard it said, yes, time and time again:
That little kids can move as quick as birds.
You turn your back, they run and hide and climb…

Oh, surely not! She couldn’t really climb…
She will be hiding, trying to be naughty.
You glance out to the garden, but the birds
Are nowhere to be seen, they’ve flown away.
You call her name out, time and time again.
Her empty space remains beside the window.

You hear the birds, you watch them hop and climb.
And from the window, seem to hear “No! Naughty!”
It fades away. You go to search again.

Sestina Day 70: Jobhunting

This one’s for Maria

I need to find a job. I must apply
For posts that I could do, whether I want
To take them on or not, for times are hard.
I have a job. It’s driving me insane,
And worse, it isn’t permanent, so I
Must search until I find a great career.

To tell the truth, I don’t need a career
Right now. In fact I really would apply
For any job that you can name that I
Am capable of. Yes it’s true I want
To utilise my strengths. I’d be insane,
However, if, If I did not try too hard

To get a job, but Christ alive it’s hard
You cannot feel secure in your career
So everybody’s looking. It’s insane!
I know for sure: Whenever I apply
Employers realise they do not want
Me. And they cast a cursory, cold eye

Over my work. You’ll get the evil eye,
And then, to make the searching extra hard
They make you tallk about how much you want
Ed, since your childhood, this career.
It’s not enough to just go and apply
You have to come across as quite insane.

At interview you can be quite insane.
If they want innovation: cast your eye
Over the application, and apply
For anything: you know that times are hard.
And act like you’ve been seeking a career
With them forever. Say that all you want

‘s A job with them – for what else could you want?
You’ll tell them that you’re utterly insane
If you think that it will help your career
It wears you down, But one will catch your eye
And even though it’s really really hard,
You’ll like the look of something, and apply.

A good career is everything you want
But just applying’s driving you insane.
You have to say you find jobhunting hard.

Sestina 69: Rapturous

Oh all ye faithful, go and wait for Jesus
To take you up to heaven in the rapture
And leave us sinners down on earth below
Because we would not bow down to your god.
We’re fine without you if we’re being honest
Earth with no fundamentalists is heaven!

Today’s the day you’re going to go to heaven.
For long awaited face time with lord Jesus.
I have my doubts about this, to be honest
I can’t see he’ll be overcome with rapture
When you lot knock upon his door, my god!
You couldn’t blame the guy for feeling low.

But what will we be doing here below?
Well, left on earth, we shall make our own heaven
Those won’t be cries of agony: Oh god!
Oh yes, right there! How do you do that? Jesus!
You’ll miss the party, we will writhe in rapture
We’ve got the better bargain, if I’m honest.

For haven’t we been just, and kind, and honest?
And yet you say we must remain below?
For fornicators shall not feel the rapture…
I beg to differ! But have fun in heaven,
You’ll have so much to talk about with Jesus!
I’m sure that he’s a kind and loving god

Although, you think that he’s the sort of god
Who doesn’t want his people to be honest
He just wants everyone to bow to Jesus.
If you won’t join his gang, you’re sent below?
This is the guy who’s waiting up in heaven?
Well, thanks but no thanks. You can keep your rapture.

I don’t think you are going to get your rapture.
I can’t see it myself. If there’s a god
He won’t have set a date to get to heaven
It doesn’t seem like his M.O. But honest
Ly if you’re still here, do not feel low
make your own rapture: Orgasms for Jesus!

Don’t go to heaven to enjoy the rapture!
Call out to Jesus, scream the name of god!
Cause honestly, you’ll have more fun below.

Sestina 68: Single Ladies Devastation!

Let me be clear. I know NOTHING about this kid’s gender identity. I am sure the dad in question isn’t a horrible father. This is a fictional response to the YouTube video Single Ladies Devastation

“The Single Ladies! All The Single Ladies!”
My sisters love to sing along and dance
When we’re at home. They always let me play
Though I’m much smaller. Daddy always laughs
When we play dress-up, Tells me that’s for girls
And says “why don’t we go play baseball, buddy?”

I hate it when my Daddy calls me “buddy”.
Why can’t he see all three of us are ladies?
He always treats the other two like girls
But suddenly I’m not supposed to dance?
My sisters sing along, nobody laughs
How come I get left out? Why can’t I play?

We love it when that song begins to play
But “Dude, you’re not a single lady, buddy”
My tactless father says to me, and laughs.
Dad, can’t you see there are no ‘single ladies’
Here? Just us. And all I want to do is dance
Right here in the back seat One of the girls

I know that boys are not the same as girls
I know that there’s a role I have to play
Of ‘Only Son’. But why not let me dance?
Why do you always have to call me buddy
Just when I’m getting into ‘”Single Ladies”
And spoil my fun while everybody laughs?

Oh, I am sure you’ll get a lot of laughs
As I get more and more like your two girls
And we grow up, not two, but three young ladies
This ‘boy’ thing’s not a game I want to play.
But if you really have to call me ‘buddy’
I will not care, as long as I can dance.

But now you say it’s fine for me to dance
I’m crying so much now, nobody laughs.
I know you only want to be my buddy
So let’s forget it, let the music play!
The Single Ladies! All The Single Ladies!

Look, “buddy”, all I want to do is dance
To “Single Ladies” so, hold back your laughs.
Us girls here in the back have games to play.

Sestina Day 67: Kittens Inspired By Kittens

Don’t ask what an elderly, ex-child-model cat is doing surfing YouTube, but this is what would happen if said cat came across Kittens Inspired By Kittens.

“Kittens: Inspired by Kittens!” How she shrieks!
That dreadful girl. But wait a minute.. wow!
When I was in that book I was so cute!
And people liked to take my photograph.
Now I am old and ugly, who would dare
To pat my scabby head? But I was fluffy.

Adorable. With many other fluffy
Prima Donnas: oh, the hissing and the shrieks
Our poor photographer got when he dared
To try to get us posing, I mean, wow,
He thought that cats would pose for photographs?
All of us look so innocent and cute

I’ll tell you now: He didn’t call us cute
When we destroyed his winerack with our fluffy
Little paws, and wrecked the photograph
By pouncing on his hands. The angry shrieks
When we drew blood! “You BASTARDS! OWOWOW!”
Ah, memories! I don’t know how he dared

To persevere but nonetheless he dared
And now this little horror thinks she’s cute
With funny comments. Wait a minute. Wow!
There’s those three sisters, all so white and fluffy!
She thinks they’re singing? Oh, their squalls and shrieks
Would hurt her ears! Now, where’s my photograph?

I looked amazing in my photograph!
What will she say about me? If she’s dared
To give one of her nasty little shrieks
Implying that I’m not insanely cute…
For then I was adorable and fluffy.
Look there I am in all my glory. Wow

“Bow wow chicka bow wow chicka bow wow”?
Is she implying that my photograph
Is somehow smutty? I was cute and fluffy!
I simply can’t believe that she has dared
Sully my name like this. They call her cute?
I’ll claw her eyes out! Then you’ll hear the shrieks…

I used to be so fluffy then, but wow…
The shrieks you’d hear if I were photographed
Today. You’d never dare! I was so cute.

Sestina Day 66: David. After Dentist.

Just my (AGAIN, FICTIONAL) imagining of what happened to  David After Dentist  later in life.

When I was seven, I went to the dentist.
They had to give me quite a lot of drugs.
To knock me out and then to numb the pain.
And afterwards, I tried to count my fingers
But everything was blurred. You had four eyes
I wasn’t sure if this was real life.

At fourteen, all I wanted was a life
But everyone saw “David After Dentist”
That moment seen by millions of eyes
The joke at school was “David is on drugs”
Each morning: “OK now… I have two fingers”
My classmates chorused. It was such a pain.

But soon I found a way to numb the pain.
At twenty-one I loved my social life
Though I could count successes on the fingers
Of one hand, still, I was “David after Dentist”!
I partied lots. I took a lot of drugs
And did my party piece for doting eyes.

They loved it when I said “you have four eyes”
At twenty eight it should have been a pain.
But me? I didn’t care. I liked the drugs
You really didn’t like the way my life
Was going, when I could have been a dentist!
A doctor, even! I gave you the finger,

And said that you had not lifted a finger
To help me. You had laughed and rolled your eyes
And filmed me in the car after the dentist.
I said that you had caused me so much pain
At 35, I felt left out of life
And so, I blocked the sadness with more drugs.

And you cannot complain that I take drugs
It’s immature to try and point the finger
And say that I have compromised my life.
It’s bad enough, without the prying eyes,
The mortifying, constant nagging pain
Of having to be David After Dentist.

This is my life:  I’m loved when I’m on drugs
I hate that dentist with his latexed fingers
You have four eyes. And I have no more pain.