Episode 93: Culturing Creativity - Sestina Poems

This week on our culturing creativity episode, we explored Sestina Poems and discussed how they can contribute to inspiring creativity. For this exercise, we used the instructions on the masterclass website linked below to come up with the Sestina Poem. Adhering to the strict structure was a challenge, but an enjoyable one! Click on the link if you are interested in creating a sestina poem yourself. https://www.masterclass.com/articles/sestina-poem-form Below, you can find our poems. Sarah's Poem: A Sestina for Julia Nothing more fun than play with your favourite person. A toothless grin, your face an open book. Between your gums, pools milk, overflowing down your chin. As we sing your eyes flutter closed. The parks are closed. Mummy, where can we play? At home, my sweet. Coo and sing to me, with those unpracticed lips. Grin when you make a sound. Bottled milk makes wet rings, resting on your book. Too tired for a book. Slumbering with the door closed, you won’t stir for milk. Tickling your toes, your nose. I play with your hands. A sleepy grin. But then you wake, and furiously sing. Beep, beep, beep. The bottle warmer will sing for us. Have patience. Maybe a story? A book? Your frustrated pout is an upside-down grin. Little fists clenched tightly closed, I cannot persuade you to play. You wail, demanding milk. Now satiated, I watch you snooze. Creamy milk- colored skin. How your beauty does sing! Eyelashes longer than mine, they play across rosy cheeks. So many things my book never told me. I press it closed, my chest swelling. If only hearts could grin. Sometimes it grows, your grin. Mouth full with a bottle of milk. Dimples denting, and lips barely closed around the nipple. Just wait until you can sing— why waste a moment with a book, when the world is ready to play? You make my world sing, and I could fill a book about how prettily you play. Ashley's Poem: Reconnection These days, old friends are a memory. Of a time we once connected. Cried together, and laughed. A relic of the past, Where days la