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Sunday, January 12, 2014


Structure, Metrical Requirement, End Word Requirement, Isosyllabic
Sestina with eight lines per verse for a total of 68 lines.
Attributed to:
Bob Newman
With the envoy:
12 / 34 / 56 / 78
Rhythm/Stanza Length:
Line/Poem Length:             68

Thanks to Charles L. Weatherford

Example Poem

Our Special Place     (Ocarina)

We both embrace this very special place.
When we feel stressed we come for play and rest
it seems sedate and wills all woes to wait.
Don't you abhor the daily quest for more,
the circular rat-race, the hectic pace
that takes away the willingness to play?
I feel no need to cuss and join the rush
to join the game without our taking aim.

When first we came seclusion was our aim.
Here is a space with tranquil quiet pace
Who would have guessed that just by seeking rest
we'd find a lust for nature's thrilling rush.
We set out to explore the place, and more,
each other's face, less lined when in this place.
Most everyday we find that we must play
and let the freight of daily commerce wait.

Arriving late, I caused for you a wait,
but you weren't sore at all; there's so much more
encasing one in splendor that the pace
of life gives way and waiting too,  is play.
Your sudden blush invited me to rush
for thoughts un-tame had warned of my aim.
With no disgrace we sanctified the place
as we progressed from urgency, to rest

Upon your breast I'll lay my hand and rest
among the brush, no longer in a rush.
We swim, explore, embrace in lust once more-
enjoy the pace afforded by this place,
the air's sachet, the squirrels near, at play.
When calmed by mate the world can always wait-
no other game shares a more lofty aim
than kissing face and slowing down our pace.

At home a flash of lace turns up the pace
at end of day and says you want to play,
but here no such a proxy starts my rush;
natural nudeness claims our bodies' aim.
My fingers trace pathways to everyplace
where I have pressed my lips and all the rest
I plan to sate with out delay, but wait
we both adore the wait; we'll wait some more

The forest floor, one blanket, nothing more
this is our base that turns this tranquil place
with water's spray into a place to play
and actuate our fantasies and wait
and frame thoughts seeking any greater aim.
There is no race and we both love this pace,
though I'm molested 'til I need a rest.
I would have to blush were it not a rush.

There's still the push to weekly join the rush
and play that game which is commerce's aim.
We chase the credits in the market place
Though not obsessed we act just like the rest
and that equates to working while we wait
the week-end to restore ourselves once more.
It's not the case that we can't stand the pace
of life's buffet- we just take time to play.

It's quite cliché you must mix work and play-
accommodate the mundane while you wait
for fame and wealth if that 's part of your aim.
Yet you can brace your soul at any pace
and live with zest if you take time to rest.
Avoid the crush resulting from the rush
and go explore a place where less is more
and in our case that means our special place.

This is a place where both of us may rest,
where waters wait and pause before their more
determined pace resumes, and we can play
without the rush that sometimes seems our aim.

© Lawrencealot - January 10, 2014

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