Talent to be a poet,
If I begin writing of syllables,
An icon within an icon for words,
Takes up time in my mind a sestina,
An amassed heritage a gift of age,
Shifting attention to geometry,
A space of geometry.
Occupied is a mind of a poet,
Humanity’s development pass age,
I might want to use the ‘gin’ syllable,
Meaningful something of a sestina,
Like in the days of old about these words.
Like a salad mixing words.
Numbers move in circles, geometry.
French, Tuscan, Spanish love a sestina;
Writing briefly like a refined poet,
I have two hands for these ten syllables,
Watching measurements of a passing age.
Valuable are things of age;
Collecting valuable favourite words,
These many sounds of meaning, syllable;
Words, symbols distinguish geometry,
Like fine art words depict for a poet,
Demanding strict follow to sestina.
For a bleat a sestina.
Death and life, an experience of age,
Prioritizing words by a poet,
A writer counting and sharing her words,
Mathematics of pie, geometry,
Any more, I will need your syllables.
A sound of a syllable.
Six lines any order a sestina.
An oldest branch of math, geometry,
Weaving our relations in an age.
Let’s forget articles in these few words,
Imagery understood by a poet.
Here geometry, for a measure or laugh, a syllable.
Merci poet, for these long sestinas,
An age lasts as do words.