My project consists of nine sestinas, one for each student in the class. A sestina is a form of poem first invented by the troubadour Arnaut Daniel. A sestina is a poem of six stanzas with six lines each. The last words of each line repeat in each stanza. The first line of each stanza has seven syllables with each following line containing ten syllables. The poem ends with a three line tournada with each line including two of the ending words from the previous stanzas.
My poems were inspired by Arnaut Daniel’s poems. Each poem is told from the perspective of a different student, and the goal is to capture their unique voice. I chose six words that are associated with their personality or are related to common experiences or inside jokes. I like how this mirrored the reality in troubadour times when there would be shared knowledge between the troubadour and the audience that would lead to greater engagement with the songs. Many treat the themes of troubadours: music, adventure, far away love.
Literary critic Paul Fussell once commented that the sestina "would seem to be [a form] that gives more structural pleasure to the contriver than to the apprehender” (Fussell). Many have also noted that the sestina may be a more natural and satisfying form in languages other than English. I will concede that creating the poems did make me feel clever, but it will definitely be less interesting to others. I found that accommodating the ending words directed the poem instead of relying on a premeditated theme or story.
I was also inspired by poems by Elizabeth Bishop and Kurt Vonnegut who both composed sestinas in English (Ferguson). I looked to their poems for guidance on how to continually reuse words without sounding repetitious. At times, I tried to play with the different meanings of words. For example, I used “bio” meaning “biology,” but I also used it to mean “biography.” I used “desert” as the dry landscape, the verb meaning to abandon something, as well as the rarely used meaning of a group of lapwings.
Bibliography
Primary Source: Goldin poem of Arnaut Daniel pg. 221 poem 40
Secondary Sources:
Fussell, Paul (1979). Poetic Meter and Poetic Form. US: McGraw-Hill Higher Education. ISBN 978-0-07-553606-2.
Ferguson, Margaret; et al. (1996). The Norton Anthology of Poetry. US: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. ISBN 0-393-96820-0.
Melissa: And for what?
See I come from Miami
Soon you will learn that I speak French – barely
I lived in Wisconsin. That was tragic.
But to Florida I returned – thank God
No matter where I am, I’m still yo girl
Now my story comes - so be quiet ma’am
One day in France, I said “Ma’am
This shit ain’t like being in Miami.
Everything is old ‘cept this boy and girl”
So I hiked to this castle – barely
And when I got there, I prayed to my God.
I said, “Sir, this hiking is tragic.”
This story’s really tragic
So you best be listening up ma’am.
This story is all true I swear to God.
I followed some boy here from Miami.
He owns this castle on this hill – barely.
He shares it with six cousins and some girl.
Now what was it all for girl?
He treats you like you ugly. That’s tragic.
He thinks he’s got it all. I say “barely.”
He tells me what to do. Excuse me, ma’am.
This shit would never fly in Miami.
I will dump this boy’s ass – so help me God.
But I do love him – Oh God!
He’s running around with some other girl.
And he won’t follow me to Miami
I’m too good for this. This love’s tragic
If he comes back to me, I’ll say “no ma’am”
You had your chance and you took it – barely
I am sure about this barely
If he begs, I’ll ask for the help of God
I’ll tell him to go and he’ll say “no ma’am”
He knows that I will always be his girl
Oh! This whole situation is tragic
I really should have stayed in Miami
I send this barely song to a girl
Who knows by God that life is tragic
Dear ma’am please take this song and meet me in Miami
Arman: A Mountain Boy
Hark! I am a mountain boy
You might find this fact of mine ironic
I shall now recount my full history
Don’t be reactive – this ain’t chemistry
I might have to pause to grab a bucket
I also might say Bofigliano
I say Bofigliano
But I still talk to you as I’m a boy
Who can be found carrying a bucket
I also like things that are ironic
And ionic – ‘cause I like chemistry
Time for my tale of ancient history
I once studied history
Then I met a man – Bofigliano
Then – bam – explosion, total chemistry,
He taught me of the troubadours – oh boy!
And here is the part that is ironic
It even made me put down my bucket
He said, “Pick up that bucket!”
And fill it with troubadour history
They are gone but still here – that’s ironic
Then I had to say Bofigliano
Although I was still talking to the same boy
This was not in a class of chemistry
Far greater than chemistry
Is that with which I have filled my bucket
That which enlivens the heart of each boy
The ocean of troubadour history
Far more thrilling than Bofigliano
Please don’t tell me that that is ironic
This is what is ironic
That I wanted to study chemistry
When in the world – Bofigliano –
There are troubadours to fill my bucket
So that is the end of my history
Now I am fully a troubadour boy
So place this ironic song in a bucket
And forget chemistry and history
For this is a troubadour world and I am a Bofigliano boy
Uche: Y’all
You might expect me to sing
Or perhaps you believe I will dance
But you are sorely mistaken ‘cause y’all
You know that all of that would be nonsense
For I only ever study bio
That is the end of the story – goodnight
Did you believe that goodnight?
I was just playing with y’all. I must sing
Even though I’m devoted to bio
I will never give up my love of dance
Without dance, the world is full of nonsense
For real though, I wouldn’t do that to y’all
Now I have a gift for y’all
We ain’t driving, so I won’t say goodnight
The gift is a story – this ain’t nonsense
This is a mighty tale that I will sing
If you are lucky I might even dance
This is my vida – Sir Uche’s bio
I will begin my bio
With a story that involves all of y’all
One day I was doing a baller dance
And spinning in circles – but then – goodnight
I was so dizzy that I could not sing
I fell down and passed out – that was nonsense
But here is the real nonsense
-Don’t ask me to explain the bio-
When I woke up I did not try to sing
Because the troubadours had replaced y’all so then in Occitan I said “goodnight”
Ignoring my words, they started to dance
This was not a normal dance
They sang a song of nothing – just nonsense
A joglar I became on that good night
A more noble profession than bio
A joglar far more skilled than all of y’all
Now the songs of the troubadours I sing
So that is my song of dance and not bio
You believed that nonsense? Y’all…
I got nothing to say but goodnight. I’m still premed even if I like to sing.
Angie: Hot Troubadour Summer
Here’s a story – honestly
I think you guys will really like it – wait
First, I am having a hot girl summer
That is what we call it in Salinas
I learned about it from friends on Twitter
It means that I’m busy chasing the bag
So how do you chase the bag?
I can’t answer that question honestly
What happens on Twitter stays on Twitter
So to know that you will just have to wait
My story does not concern Salinas
It is about my troubadour summer
What a wild whirlwind summer
I came to Narbonne with a well packed bag
It is quite a long way from Salinas
But now I am so distraught – honestly
For my love is far away. It’s true – wait
Who is this far away love? It’s Twitter
How, you ask, is it Twitter?
It is my love far away this summer
Thanks to Ethic Etape. It makes me wait
Now I have let the cat out of the bag
I long for faster wifi honestly
This would never happen in Salinas
Oh wifi of Salinas!
How fast was my connection to Twitter!
Narbonne needs better wifi honestly
This is ruining my hot girl summer
It is impossible to chase the bag
When for every tweet I have to wait
They load slowly while I wait
I dream of the network in Salinas
Do you think they still use slang like “the bag?”
Or is everything different on Twitter
Now that fall has come to replace summer
This wifi is killing me honestly
While I wait, I send this song to my love Twitter
Give my regards to Salinas and hot girl summer
I chase the bag, but I do it honestly
Carly: An Awesome Tale
Behold! My tale is awesome
Although it is not as awesome as SLE
You can’t find this knowledge in any book
To find it you must go to a concert
The concert cannot be in Kentucky
Not at a competition of Wushu
I wish it were like Wushu
Because that would be really so awesome
Then I could practice it in Kentucky
Of what do I speak? It was during SLE
That I first attended their sweet concert
This knowledge could not have come from a book
Oh tell me! What use are books?
What good is the noble art of wushu?
When I first heard that sweetness in concert
That art was trobar and it was awesome
I learned of the great troubadours in SLE
I’ll introduce the art to Kentucky
They’ll be loved in Kentucky
I will make them read all of Gerard’s books
I will make them read all the books from SLE
For fun, I will also teach them wushu
That will make Kentucky very awesome
At the end we will have a big concert
Hark! What a splendid concert
We will have Fried Chicken of Kentucky
And on their lips will be the word “awesome”
We will take photos and mike a nice books
Shutterfly is what we use for wushu
I’ll show it to the other kids in SLE
My loves: troubadours and SLE
Oh the joy of a troubadour concert
I will incorporate tons of wushu
Monopoly property Kentucky
This sestina has become like a book
Which is avant garde. That Is awesome.
I send this sestina from a SLE kid to Kentucky
Please come to my concert bearing books
And please remember wushu is awesome
Jackie: Do it for the troubadour
Can I please have a waffle?
I’m just here in Cedar Rapids chilling
I’ve spent lots of time studying abroad
But know that I’m allergic to peanuts
I hail from the land of California
And I really like a good online meme
Why did I bring up the mems?
For what reason did I mention waffles?
Do you care that I’m from California?
Who cares in which rapids I am chilling?
All of this to you must seem like peanuts
Perhaps I should speak of topics more broad
Why do you not think it’s broad
When I talk about my life via memes?
This is my vida and I’ll say peanuts
If I want – and I do want – a waffle!
Now time for a tale – harrowing, chilling
It starts in a town in California
Place: Stanford, California
I am no longer studying abroad
Water curtailment – no room chilling
The horror! This isn’t even a meme
I decide to pack up all my waffles
And travel to France, avoiding peanuts
The flight costs only peanuts
Then I’m in France – not California
I find something much better than waffles
It is the best thing at home or abroad
Someone should make this into a new meme
I saw a group of people just chilling
Who were these people chilling?
Do you remember Schroeder from Peanuts?
Or Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, the Eagles?
Their best song was Hotel California
Well, I found better musicians abroad:
Troubadours! My support will not waffle
So I send this chilling tale of chilling back to California
Where peanuts never go abroad
And every good meme is about a waffle
Emily: Waitress the Non-Musical
I used to be a waitress
But no longer for I took a gap year
During my gap year I went to China
To and fro, far and wide I did travel
I love to sing; I love to do theater
Don’t get me started on my love of wine
Today I will speak of wine
Which I brought to people as a waitress
Life is just a stage; the world, a theater
I learned that wisdom during my gap year
Along the path of light I still travel
Did I mention that I’ve been to China?
Such a nice country, China
However, in France, they have far more wine
One thing I discovered in my travels
Is the Broadway musical called Waitress
Have you heard of Broadway? It is theater
The show won a lot of Tony’s one year
I started Stanford this year
I got to share my stories from China
I went to an operating theater
But the surgeon had had too much wine
House arrest: he can no longer travel
He would have been better off as waitress
Restaurant Wars: Waitress
That is the name of my screenplay this year
Troubadour troubadour travel travel
These are the words that define me – and China
So please now be quiet in the theater
Listen to my presentation on wine
Wait! I am not done. No wine.
Please bring me another stanza waitress.
Break a leg as they say in the theater
My love is as large as the blimp of goodyear
My love far away, my love in China
One day we will meet. My heart will travel.
I have spent many a year in the theater
I have traveled to China
I have tasted French wine and yet I remain your faithful waitress
Isabel: The Walk
Let me take you on a walk
Sit down. Just relax. Grab a cup of milk.
The oasis will come from the desert
For I am the queen of California
Do you catch my drift? Speak my language?
Listen to my story. Hear my bio.
I like to study bio
But I also enjoy taking a walk
Hi or ciao depending on the language
Depending on my mood, drink melk or milk
The golden state is my California
The dessert of my heart is the desert
Don’t worry. I won’t desert
I only buy products that are bio
Or organic back in California
But listen: you must run and never walk
To the splendid land of honey and milk
That is Narbonne, France. French is the language
There, music is the language
Listen! You should fly there like a desert
Drink from the full well of troubadour milk
Forget chem; forget math; forget bio
In the footsteps of the troubadours walk
Far from the mountains of California
Oh my home of California!
We no longer speak a common language
For I have gone far and wide on my walk
I have traversed field and rill and desert
I’ve seen more than what one learns in bio
There is no stone unturned; no cow unmilked
So drink with me this fine milk
And do not return to California
Study troubadours; forget your bio
Please excuse me if I use harsh language
Here there is no mirage in the desert
So find your troubadour and start to walk
Send this song if you drink your milk and speak my language
From California’s desert
To the bio loving troubadour out for a walk
Simon: The Perfect Pitch
I like to drink my boba
And study all of computer science
What come naturally to me is music
Here I stand at the plate. Please throw the pitch
I cheer for my team. I cheer for Stanford
My name, what is my name? It is Simon
Say my name. It is Simon
I will wait. Say it now or no boba
Say it or my wrath will be felt, Stanford
Magic, love, feelings, bath tub art, science
Look! Here comes the windup. Here comes the pitch.
Bat cracks. Crowd cheers. To my ears it’s music.
I am so good at music
Listen, that is why they call me Simon
Simon excels for he has perfect pitch
Are you thirsty? I’ll get you some boba
Love is love is love. It is not a science
I fell in love with a girl at Stanford
Sadly this girl at Stanford
Had a husband who hated all music
Jealousy won over logic, science
He said, “I hate that man they call Simon.
I will kill him with poisonous boba.
Let us see if he dares to hit this pitch.”
All I know is life’s a pitch
That is what I’ve learned on the farm, Stanford
So the husband put poison in boba
And when I drank it, I faced the music
And that was the end of the boy Simon
For death cannot be thwarted by science
But cutting out a heart is not science
And a curveball is not only a pitch
He cut out the heart of the boy Simon
Fed it to his wife, student of Stanford
But first he peppered it. Oh the music!
Oh life! Oh death! Oh my poison boba!
Sing this song of science at Stanford
For perfect pitch is more than music
And the moral of the story of Simon is to beware of boba