A little Sestina for ya

In an all day workshop courtesy of the brilliant Deanna Rodgers she asked us to have a go at writing a Sestina. I can confirm it was a challenge. I don't expect this to go down in the history as one of the great works of poetry, but you never know.

Enjoy, if you dare.

Hegerty said: when the world zigs, zag.
I thought that sounded almost poignant.
Then again, maybe it’s just playful,
a zag works like camouflage,
shifting shape with every thought.
Isn’t that charming?

My dad, for one, is very charming.
He’s never been afraid of a zag.
I sometimes think he should give his zags more thought,
but there I go again, getting poignant.
Maybe that’s his strength: no camouflage,
no need to hide when you’re being playful.

And speaking of being playful,
that’s exactly what makes Horner charming,
that, and the time he wore a gimp suit as camouflage.
Now that was a zag.
Fuck. I can’t stop making it poignant.
Anyway, here’s another thought.

I had it a second ago, a thought,
but it slipped away, being playful.
At least that saves me from sounding poignant.
I can just concentrate on being charming.
So tell me, here’s a charming thought:
what actually is a zag?

I think a zag is a nag in camouflage.
Did you catch it? Just a thought.
The Z becomes an N, very playful.
Don’t get angry, it’s only a zag.
Why are you calling me names? That’s not charming.
Bollocks. I’m doing it again, being poignant.

The more I say it, the more poignant
sounds like something dressed in camouflage.
If you blend in too much, it’s hard to be charming.
On second thought,
maybe blending in is the playful
version of a zag.

So here’s my final thought:
to stay playful without camouflage,
you have to zag, charmingly, not poignantly.

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