Sestina Sociological

by

Frank X. Roberts

A poem using the sestina form can be both complex and difficult to write. Descriptions of the sestina form range from short dictionary definitions to lengthy complicated discussions in various literary handbooks. In the following poem I have used a slightly varied, simplified definition of the sestina form in Chamber’s Twentieth-Century Dictionary: “Sestina . . .  n. an old form of six six-lined stanzas having the same end-[rhymes] in different orders, and a triplet introducing all of them.” So much for the poem’s format.  As to the “opinions” expressed in the poem and its accompanying paragraph, while (as my bio below says) I write poetry “traditionally,” I do not subscribe to the idea that all poetry should necessarily rhyme, though it should have some innate rhythm. By that I mean that in any writing put forward as poetry, the distinction between prose and prosody should not completely disappear! As for poetic content: When Philip Sidney exclaimed in his sonnet, “. . . look in thy heart and write,” I would venture to guess that he meant that (to use a modern idiom), if you are going to let it all hang out in your verse, try to do it with some real poetic technique . . .

Poetry, poetry, where are you?
Run away and we'll pursue
Across a measured graph, askew.
 
Poetry, where do you retreat,
Into what lonely, dark, side street,
From attempts to make you suit
Electronic versions of the lute,
As, mesmerized, populations graze
On plastic food in plastic trays?
 
If Mr. Auden’s Citizen sways
(He may not be that astute)
In his perfection, and betrays
Disgust for all this ersatz fruit,
How will his soul be made complete
When art is empty and effete?
 
Poetry has hardened to concrete,
Color, too, has fled the gaze,
Music no longer sounds as sweet
As it did in less raucous days;
Imagination's stunted shoot
Is ugly, twisted, branch and root.
 
That bright hair, and other loot,
Left in the Poet’s winding sheet,
Just make the pain that more acute
When people whom we never meet
Move us daily, phase by phase,
Through a sociological maze.
 
Oh to have been a newt
On the sole of Emily Dickinson’s boot,
Or a little lamb, to bleat
When William Blake sat down to eat;
Glory then in the sun's rays,
Then what music, then what praise.
 
Or to have heard Wordsworth pay tribute
To any man he chanced to meet
In Lakeland’s high and windy ways.
Noise now makes his music mute;
Now empty is the Poet's seat,
And man progresses, so he says!


Frank is a semi-regular contributor to BiblioBuffet. His extensive career in teaching and librarianship began when he taught English in the U.S. From 1961 to 1963, as part of a Columbia University program called “Teachers for East Africa,” he taught English and American Literature in East Africa. There he met his wife, Dorothy. They returned to the U.S. where he simultaneously taught and finished two Masters’ degrees, in Education and in Librarianship. In 1968 they returned to England where Frank taught Library Studies, and adopted Hodge, a cat who later traveled around the world with them. In 1972, Frank was “seconded” for two years to teach at Makerere University in Uganda, East Africa, but left reluctantly after one year when the tyranny of Idi Amin became intolerable. From there it was back to England, then Australia and finally  to America in 1979, to Buffalo where Frank earned his doctorate. Later they moved to Colorado, where he was Professor of Library Studies at the University of Northern Colorado until retiring in 1997. Frank published James A. Michener: A Checklist of his Work with a Selected Annotated Bibliography (Greenwood Press) in 1995. He has written on bookmarks, specifically on medieval bookmarks, his special area of interest. A poet by avocation, he writes eclectically but traditionally. He can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it