A sestina is a type of poem that follows a strict form, using the last words in the lines of the first stanza as the last words in the lines of seven other stanzas. The form of a sestina can be found
here. This is a "walking" poem, which is to say, it will hopefully take your mind on some kind of walk.
His beard is white, and he wears a dirty jacketHis beard is white, and he wears a dirty jacket
he sits on the corner, playing his guitar.
Curled up in the guitar case is his dog.
They are both mangy, but to the dog, the guy’s a friend.
Then some man walks by and throws in some coins
and just keeps walking on his way to work.
That’s what he calls it anyway, he calls it work,
and he hides his cards up the sleeves of his silk jacket.
He collects cars and wives, (cause coins
are just too boring.) But all day the sound of the guy’s guitar
dances in his ear, and he realizes he hasn’t seen his friend
in years. So he goes to his friend’s house. No one’s home but the dog.
He actually doesn’t even know the friend has a dog.
(He knows he doesn’t see his kids cause of all the work.)
He figures the dog’s nice, you know, man’s best friend
but as he peers over the fence it bites a hole in his jacket
and the silk hangs from his sleeve like the strings of a guitar.
He’d throw something at the dog but he gave away all his coins.
It was his daily good deed; handing out those coins.
And it was just trying to play, like any normal dog.
So they play together, (just like that old guy and his guitar.)
As they play, the man thinks about how he hates what he calls work.
He especially hates wearing that silk jacket.
So the man, the dog, and the jacket just roll around, waiting for his friend.
Then he figures out he doesn’t even have a friend.
Over the years he’s gotten rid of them like those coins,
traded them like good baseball cards; the ones you put in those plastic jackets
to protect them, so they don’t get eaten by your dog.
He thinks back to how he hates what he calls work
and he still can’t shake the sound of that old guy’s guitar.
He goes out and buys his own guitar.
Bringing the dog with him, his new best friend,
they go to the office and tell his boss it never was work.
His jacket’s still dirty cause he didn’t have any coins
to throw, and ended up rolling around with the dog,
tearing even more holes in the jacket.
Now the man sits on the corner in his dirty jacket, playing his guitar,
and curled up next to him is his best friend; the dog.
And since cars and wives were as boring as work, he collects coins.
