Cyn
I'm not familiar with this type of poem but it was easily understood.  I do like the revision better and I don't really know why... 

I am back with some revisions. See if they answer some of your concerns. I think this will be going through a few more major changes before it is near completion, but let me know if it is going in the right direction

Hi Terrence Monique, Norm and Daniel
I just wanted to pop in and say I have read your comments. I intend to respond to them when I have some time. I have family visiting from Canada until Thursday afternoon and maybe through Friday if the freezing rain keeps up, then off I am off to ski for a couplke days (again only if the weather cooperates) and will  pop back in with responses after life returns to "normal"

Hi Cyn,

FYI, here’s a link to a very off-standard sestina. You’ll see that the line lengths, among other things, don’t restrict the writer. Probably not what your professor is looking for at the moment but as I mentioned before, syllables and meter are not restrictions.

http://www.amb.cult.bg/british/6/muldoon/cauli.htm

Cause  
 
This morning’s sky is raucous with the caws  
of crows, the murder a dark presence, a chord possibly ‘a murderous dark’ but the transition to ‘chord’ is weak. You may be able to change ‘the murder …’ to something stronger linking ‘the caws of crows’ to ‘chord’. E.g. ‘of crows; their murderous clamour - a chord …’
played long and low. One or two are chased   ‘low. One’ are 2 stressed syllables that interrupt the flow. I feel that one can almost get away with 2 unstressed syllables together. I feel this whole sentence could be tidied up on the lines of ‘Then startled, they are chased off of the berries that they pilfer; their weighty wings sweep great arcs against the heavy air they seize’
from the berries they pilfer, the weight  
of their wings, great sweeps and arcs,   not a smooth transition from ‘weight of their wings’ to ‘great sweeps …’
heavy against the air they seize.  
 
Today the light is slow to brighten seas;  
the sun is wan. The winds rise up and cause  
the boats upon the bay to toss - their sails, an arc  
of white. Ducks, in line, skitter in, as if tied with cord;  ’Ducks’ onwards is awkward in flow and with the commas. ‘with a cord’ helps a bit.
their rippled wakes search back coves, and wait  
for storms to pass. She watches clouds, chased  for me, ‘chased’ as used doesn’t work as a description of clouds and that transition to ‘Cimmerian’ doesn’t either. A period after 'gray' may help some.
 
and darkly gray, Cimmerian, no longer chaste   I’m guessing Cimmerian is the girl’s name rather than an ancient inhabitant of Azerbaijan though perhaps the bay is on the Caspian?
and white like the sheets of her lone bed. She sees ’white like’ a bump in flow  
she has no way to keep him here and waits;  
she wants to touch him; need is strong, because ’him; needing him because’
she doesn’t understand the reason for discord.  
She imagines life’s a circle, one grand arc  
 
that meets like clasping fingers. Her body’s arc  
creates crescents of light that change and are chased ’and chase the shadows of his form’
by shadows of his form. His moan’s a chord  
played long and low, might be a chance to seize  ’perhaps’ instead of ‘might be’
some gladness, before it's swept away, with the caws  I think it’s a bit early to bring back ‘caws’ here. Perhaps use ‘cause’ or even ‘claws’ and save the crows for S6 or the tercet.
of crows on wind. And she can bear his weight;  
 
she’ll keep him whole for now, his weight  The opening 4 lines of this stanza seem a bit awkward/forced to me. I don’t have any suggestions right now. 
is light before he’s borne away; she'll be his ark  
until he battles terror, departs to fight the cause,  
a cause no longer pure, no longer chaste.  
His wings are heavy in the air they seize,  
he flies away, her ring upon a cord.  
 
Her evening sky erupts with birds, their chords  
discordant. Terns take turns, dive, while she waits;  I like the ‘terns take turns’ but it gets a bit forced from there to ‘Ramadi’. Perhaps a little lengthening of the line, here and elsewhere, may help
she sits and sings and writes down what she sees:  
concentric ripples circle, spread and split, to form an arc.  
Ramadi air erupts with sounds of screams - chased  
by bits of gristle, glass and steel – pieces of the cause.  
 
A ring upon a cord swings in an arc,  
no chance to wait for circles to complete, chaste  
upon the winds that seize a cause. 


You have a good story going on here and a good transition from S1 to S6. There may be other variations of the end words you could use. ‘Accord’ comes to mind. A rhyming dictionary may give others.
Are you aware you could move, say, the first 2 stanzas to the end and it will still keep the scheme? Not that you need to but S1 could be placed after S6 if it helps your rewrite.

Hoping to have helped, Terence


 

Cyn,

I have written only three sestinas --- and plan to write no more. I love form poetry and the disciplines (write a ton of them) but this form is too often pure WORK and I question whether or not the poet can accomplish communication through it.

I promise to look at this before weekend's end -- it is almost as much work critiquing a sestina as it is to write one LOL.

Norm

revision

Cause 

This morning’s sky is raucous with the caws 
of crows, the murder a dark presence, a chord 
played long and low. One or two are chased 
from the berries they pilfer, the weight 
of their wings, great sweeps and arcs, 
heavy against the air they seize. 

Today the light is slow to brighten seas; 
the sun is wan. The winds rise up, cause 
boats on the bay to toss - their sails, an arc 
of white. Ducks in line, skitter in, as if pulled with a cord; 
their rippled wakes search back coves, wait 
for storms to pass, watch the clouds, chased 

and darkly gray, cimmerian, no longer chaste 
and white like the sheets on my bed. I see 
hard lines around his eyes, I’m patient, wait; 
a smile will lighten him, as birds to air; will cause 
my breath to pause of its own accord.
Imagine life’s a circle, one grand arc 

that meets like clasping fingers. His body’s arch 
creates crescents of light that change, chased 
by shadows of our forms. His moan’s a chord 
played long and low, a chance to seize 
some gladness, before it's swept away, with the caws 
of crows on wind. And I can bear his weight; 

I’ll keep him whole for now, his weight 
so light, before he’s borne away; I'll be his ark 
until he must depart. And he will go, because 
he’s sworn to fight, a cause once chaste. 
His wings are heavy in the air they seize;
he flies away, his ring upon a cord. 

The evening sky erupts with birds, their chords 
discordant. Terns take turns, and dive, I wait; 
and sit and sing and write down what I see: 
concentric ripples circle, split, form arcs. 
Ramadi air erupts with sounds of screams - chased 
by bits of gristle, glass and steel – bits of the cause 

while I still wait for circles to complete, chaste 
upon the winds that seize our lives ... but for what cause? 

A ring upon a cord swings in an arc.

******************************************
original

Cause 

This morning’s sky is raucous with the caws 
of crows, the murder a dark presence, a chord 
played long and low. One or two are chased 
from the berries they pilfer, the weight 
of their wings, great sweeps and arcs, 
heavy against the air they seize. 

Today the light is slow to brighten seas; 
the sun is wan. The winds rise up and cause 
the boats upon the bay to toss - their sails, an arc 
of white. Ducks, in line, skitter in, as if tied with cord; 
their rippled wakes search back coves, and wait 
for storms to pass. She watches clouds, chased 

and darkly gray, Cimmerian, no longer chaste 
and white like the sheets of her lone bed. She sees 
she has no way to keep him here and waits; 
she wants to touch him; need is strong, because
she doesn’t understand the reason for discord. 
She imagines life’s a circle, one grand arc 

that meets like clasping fingers. Her body’s arc 
creates crescents of light that change and are chased
by shadows of his form. His moan’s a chord 
played long and low, might be a chance to seize 
some gladness, before it's swept away, with the caws 
of crows on wind. And she can bear his weight; 

she’ll keep him whole for now, his weight 
is light before he’s borne away; she'll be his ark 
until he battles terror, departs to fight the cause, 
a cause no longer pure, no longer chaste. 
His wings are heavy in the air they seize, 
he flies away, her ring upon a cord. 

Her evening sky erupts with birds, their chords 
discordant. Terns take turns, dive, while she waits; 
she sits and sings and writes down what she sees: 
concentric ripples circle, spread and split, to form an arc. 
Ramadi air erupts with sounds of screams - chased 
by bits of gristle, glass and steel – pieces of the cause. 

A ring upon a cord swings in an arc, 
no chance to wait for circles to complete, chaste 
upon the winds that seize a cause.



 

Cyn
******************************************

This is an assignment I am working on for my writing class. I need some help with it I think. It is a sestina with a specific end word sequence. And the constraints make it difficult for me to see past them to know if this poem is working as a "poem" not just a sestina.