[stylist] Sharing my earliest sestina House of Cards

Tue May 29 21:32:35 UTC 2012

Oh yes you were very much on the right track and yet  there have been other 
interpretations which is fine with me.  And about the  sestina?  I wrote a 
couple of them since I began writing.  I always  say I have paid my sestina 
dues.  LOL
Thank you so much for your input and I would really  like to a poem 
revolving around this same theme.  Or a short story or  whatever.  I would really 
enjoy reading it.

Myrna

In a message dated 5/29/2012 3:38:40 P.M. Central Daylight Time,  
bookwormahb at earthlink.net writes:

Myrna,
Oh boy, I was on the right track. I figured it had  something to do with 
painful memories. I assume its true and the who of  the piece could be to 
many people. Being excluded from activities growing  up, I could see myself 
writing something along this theme. Although, I  don't think I could make a 
sestina, maybe another poem  though.

-----Original Message----- 
From:  KajunCutie926 at aol.com
Sent: Tuesday, May 29, 2012 4:17 PM
To:  stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Sharing my earliest sestina House  of Cards

Oh let's see.  It is about memories, some very  ugly  ones.  It is about
finding oneself and discovering your own   strength.  The 'who' is not so 
easy
to name.  It is a melding  of three  with similar pain for different 
reasons.
Each lived within a  'house of  cards', a house easy to topple yet as
imprisoning as a  stone wall.   Thank you so much for asking about  it.

Myrna

In a message dated 5/29/2012 3:05:19 P.M. Central  Daylight Time,
bookwormahb at earthlink.net writes:

Hi   Myrna,
Who was this about? It refers to a "she" in it. It’s a nice  message.  I
think
you are getting at lost memories; those memories  are lost in old  walls,
places we've been. I interpret more literally.  If this isn't the  case, you
might be using the walls and cards as  some  metaphor.

-----Original Message----- 
From:   KajunCutie926 at aol.com
Sent: Monday, April 02, 2012 6:13 PM
To:   stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Sharing my earliest sestina House  of  Cards

With all the talk of Sestina's today I wanted to share  with my  first
attempt written about 8 years ago.  At the time  this so taxed my  brain and
I
wasn't sure I would ever attempt  another but of course, I  did.  I have
attached it as well. I do  hope you enjoy this very feeble  attempt.

House Of  Cards
(sestina)

Once upon another time she  lived
In a  fragile house of cards.  She  knew
Only that she  was  sheltered, never heard
The winds of change that   silently
Blew  against the coated-paper walls
Of her blissful  existence,  until it  crumpled.

She found herself alone amid  the crumpled
Ruins of the  life she had  known, no longer  lived
Behind the sanctity of sacred  walls
Which kept its   secrets.   Innocence knew
It would  die in shame,  silently
Lying in  the ruins of her being.  Unheard.

The  Knave had claimed he heard
No denial or admonition and  she   crumpled,
Allowing the lifeless cards to fall silently
One by   one.   In darkness lived
The Kings and Queens.  Only   Innocence knew
Evil  had shattered the paper walls.

She  picked  through discarded walls
Searching for treasured Innocence  but   heard
Only silence.  Laughter, she knew,
Lay buried  in the life now  crumpled
And yet she survived.  She   lived
To carry the  secrets within her silently.

And time, in  its fashion, ticked  silently
Within her soul.  She  woke  one day to find walls
Of  Faith where debris once lived.
Was that  the  whisper of promise  heard
>From beneath the dreams  crumpled?
Could she  regain the life  she once  knew?

Again, time flexed its knowing muscle for it  knew
That  some things must  be borne silently
And without  reprieve.   The life lost in the  crumpled
Ruins would not return  to thrive  within the walls
Of yesterday.  Truth's hammer clearly   heard
As it rang through dreams not  lived.

And in her soul  she  knew, that no longer would walls
Stand by silently,   ignoring the  whispers heard
While the house crumpled, burying what  once   lived.

© March   2004

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