Sestina

 

I stand here by this podium.

I feel like nothing but a target.

I hope that man only sees half of me, the man with the eye-patch.

I Hope no one is here from my neighborhood.

I hate this.

It’s twisted.

 

Everything starts to turn twisted.

The podium.

The stage.

I feel like a target.

This is not my place to be, this is not my neighborhood.

I am like a pirate on land, only missing my eye-patch.

 

When I start to perform I no longer need an eye-patch.

Things start to untwist.

The audience starts to look like neighborhoodies.

I can now stand stable behind the podium.

I shake my target.

I am O.K with this stage.

 

When I am done, I walk of the stage.

I feel bad for the man with the eye-patch.

The sky is my target.

My mind had been twisted.

I am at home behind the podium.

The house is my neighborhood.

 

When I wake up there is mist in my neighborhood.

Once again things seem twisted.

The podium.

In need an eye-patch.

The stage.

I am targeted.

 

Targeted or not targeted.

My neighborhood or not my neighborhood.

I still perform on stage.

When I start, again things untwist.

I throw of the eye-patch.

I just have to get used to this podium.

 

No matter how many times I go up on stage, I will always be targeted.

From the podium, the house will always turn to my neighborhood.

Things will start to untwist, and I will no longer need a eye-patch.

 

 

Author's Note

End words:
1. Podium
2. Target
3. Eye-patch
4. Neighborhood
5. Stage
6. twisted

Reviews

[ErlendB]

I really like your choice of end words, they fit very good together! And the way you completed the task was also good! It is way better than my sestina! I know how hard they are to write, but this was excellent! Are you sure you are not a professional poetrist back in Sweden? Anyways, very good job on this poem! :)

[jacimckenzie]

it gave me chills. very good