Of Chickens and Roses

This is the first sestina I have ever written and I learned about it and started it in my poetry class. It is a fun and enjoyable form I find and will most likely continue writing other poems in the sestina form. The end 6 words I picked were the first 6 words that came to my mind. They are an unusual mix and I'm not quite sure what I was thinking or feeling at the time to make me come up with such a combination of words. Yet it was a fun challenge and I still get the strangest imagery every time I go back to this poem...


The morning smelt of roses,
I found my sister in the yard playing with the chickens,
as she was wearing my mother's favorite shirt made of cashmere,
I smiled as I watched her and ate from a jar of peanuts.
Watching the feathered birds move fast, like lightning,
I then made a note to later buys some cherries.

When I finally left the house to go to the market and get cherries,
a finely dressed man passed carrying an armful of roses.
My pace quickened because in the sky was lightning.
I passed by a shot that was filled with chickens,
then took a shortcut through an alleyway littered with peanuts.
I hoped my sister didn't ruin mother's cashmere.

I have no idea why of all things she chose to wear the cashmere.
Having reached the fruit stand I paid for the so desired cherries.
They were sweet and crisp, not hard and chalky like the peanuts,
the woman who sold them to me, her cheeks pink and delicate like roses.
When I would return home, I hoped my sister would be done with the chickens,
for the sky was dark and gray and the clouds were filled with lightning.

Just as I came back, our house was beneath the lightning,
and what was resting so softly on the porch was the cashmere,
covered in white feathers left from the chickens.
I picked up the shirt, went inside, and ate all of the cherries.
Alongside the sink lay an armful of roses,
I turned and blinked in surprise, while knocking over the jar of peanuts.

A pair of quiet shoes walked through the scattered and crushed peanuts.
I glanced through my window, and flashing brighter than before was the lightning,
Illuminating the soft velvet and darkly beautiful roses,
like the delicate and ruined shirt made of cashmere.
My sister looked at the dropped jar, then asked about the cherries,
while outside was that nicely dressed man, tending to the chickens.

I asked who is the man feeding the chickens,
and she asked if he is the one that likes peanuts.
I didn't know except I saw him when I went to buy the cherries.
Then it had dawned upon me like lightning,
that he had bought my mother such fine but now ruined cashmere,
and the evening suddenly smelt of roses.

In the yard were all the roses but none of the chickens,
and on the chair lay the cashmere, but crushed upon the floor were the peanuts,
as the lightning struck upon the finely dressed man holding the pits of the eaten cherries.


Copyright Christine Locke