Sen... Sesit... Sestina!

This is a both a reference for me to come back to this form cheat:
7.(envoi) ECA or ACE
and to get a feel for what this type of poem means. It is an intriguing form of poetry I'd never heard of until recently and I'll be maimed if I don't at least try it.
Oh, and I referenced an earlier poem and a terror story, though I use the name Sandra here instead of Piper. Maybe I'll change it. (If you want to see the earlier poem, I can

Sandra had a certain feeling

That she couldn't let the phone go on ringing

Spiders up her spine were creeping

And warning bells of what was to come were singing

She stole no time and answered, then, in a blink

"Hello?" "What do you think?"


"What do I think?"

"About all that is going on--how are you feeling?"

Confused, she tried to communicate a blink

"What do you mean? About the ringing?"

"Yea, the-- are you singing?"

And there that feeling was again, that creeping


And here is that feeling again, that creeping

She felt an echo but was reluctant to pause and think

And hid the fact that she had, in fact, been singing

Ignoring even more that growing feeling

"What were you saying, about the ringing?"

"Oh, right," Harry said, his turn to momentarily make an almost audible blink


Sandra smothered a giggle at an odd quote, don't blink

But thoughts of stone angels spurred the creeping

"Well, about the ringing...

Yeah, what do you think?"

There was that word again, both a synonym for believe and a feeling

"I don't know. The tone is odd, I guess; could use a ringtone, something singing."


Harry seemed puzzled; "Singing?

Sandra, aren't you concerned, aren't you afraid to blink?

Don't you sense that there's another line... feeling?

Other beings, or maybe other people, just... creeping?

Sandra, isn't that what you think?"

Sandra opened her mouth, but then she heard another phone ringing


From his house, there was static, screaming-- and ever the ringing

She didn't stop when she noticed again that she was singing

And again she didn't want to think

She pressed the end button, stared at the door, tried not to blink-- don't blink

And she couldn't avoid the creeping

And terror was the feeling


She rocked, barely breathing for her singing, staring out with that most wretched feeling

She made the mistake of letting herself think, and all it was was an echo--ringing

She prayed that nothing rang, but the walls were creeping nearer and soon she had to blink.

The End

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