Well here we are folks. I've thrown out the diary, condemned it to the manual wastelands of pen and paper and unveiled a blog. I won't say much more than that because this is simply it. A place where periodically I will log my writing for you the reader whoever you may be. By all means remain in anonymity but if you feel you want to comment, do feel free. Any comments will be greatly appreciated. Below you will find a poem that I'm using as a trial. I discovered this form of tristina after reading Seamus Heaney's poem "Two Lorries", written in a sestina form. Having been accidentally redirected to a very strange poetry by numbers website I thought I would give this form a try.
Basically this is a poem about reaching the cusp of manhood and male inadequacy. But make of it what you will!
Tristina Perhaps you've tried to see some reason Strolling down the boulevard of melancholy. The negative print of the ocean reeks
Perhaps you saw compassion in her cheeks, You're at that age when you need a son, If only to use as a starting pistol, all he
Would provide is a spark, to raise you from your melancholy Selfish in your procreation, progress is all you seek Between Autumn and Winter there lies a new season
Those who watch will say to you that there's your melancholic reason tied up in yourself. It reeks