The Collins stanza is a melding of three utilities of the poetic process; (1) three sets of rhyming couplets, that create a (2) sestet, but with the last line of each stanza repeating (a line, phrase or word) to link it with the next stanza; making it also a (3) repeating form. There are no limits to the number of stanzas you write. However, at least three are required to give the evidence of the repetition in this form,
Ideally heroic couplets are used but any rhyming couplet is permitted. To differentiate between the two, a poem using Heroic couplets, (Iambic Pentameter) is called a Divine Collins.
Lets look at an example of the normal form.
Lovers Apart
A depth of feeling within my heart
Is so intense when we are apart
For in my dreams I feel your touch
That I know I long for thee much
Oh how that smile doth beguile me
From lips that whisper I love thee.
Yearn to savour thy tender touch
My dearest I doth love thee much
For moments apart hath told me so
This absence tells me thus I know
Oh how that smile doth beguile me
From lips that whisper I love thee.
I long to be held twixt loving arms
Feeling warmth and sensual charms
One day soon we shall fly together
Raising our spirits on high forever
Oh how that smile doth beguile me
From lips that whisper I love thee.
Divena Collins
SARA’S SESTETS:
GET OUTTA DODGE
He rode into town in a ten-gallon hat
that blocked out the sun; he was tough, that Matt
In Dodge City hooligans ran rampant
a ‘shootin’ a ‘stealin’, behavin’ like infants.
Gritty and tired, he rode in wth a frown,
Mr. Matt Dillon arrived in town
A new sheriff come to restore order.
They imported him from over the border.
He became good friends with Doc and Kitty.
Next step was gettin’ a deputy.
Bad guys thinned out, hearin’ the sound
When Mr Matt Dillon arrived in town.
People out west heard about Dodge.
Came to see for themselves, it was no mirage.
Farmers, cowboys, and families came.
In Dodge City, there was no more shame.
No shootin’, no stealin’ and so it remains,
since Mr. Matt Dillon arrived in town.
© Sara McNulty
WALTER’S WORDS:
THESE SHADOWS
Silence does befall this place,
and in the night I see your face.
Every feature haunts my muddled mind
in the darkness of this room I find
your piercing eyes, your turned up nose…
these shadows offer no repose.
This stillness in my heart does ache
and I can tell, make no mistake
the love I carried, I carry still.
For surely I’ll carry you until
my own eyes finally close,
these shadows offer no repose.
But, until that fateful day
I’ll still have so much more to say
to fill the vacuum of this night
and keep your visage in my sight.
For in spite of how our ending goes,
these shadows offer no repose.
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
***
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Oh, love this form!
Walt, such raw emotion…esp. this,
to fill the vacuum of this night
and keep your visage in my sight.
And Sara, i just wanna pick up a ‘geetar’ and sing;-)!
thank-you both for making this form look easy.
Thank you for your kind words, Janet! You know how my love poems flow! This one became fluid as well!
🙂
Thanks, Janet. Decided to go the humor route with this one.
Where Footfalls Fade
Tread softly, dear, the by and by
You think is far from here is nigh
The little boy that runs and plays
Will soon be lost to yesterdays
The carefree girl will dance and dream
Into that world of what has been
Tread softly, dear and do not pine
For morrows waiting down the line
Where soon, too soon you’ll realize
The value of each moment-prize
And how they meld, blue-gold-gray-green
Into that world of what has been
Tread softly, love, and live full, free
In every day God grants to thee
Soft, swift the gift of it folds to
Bygones that claim their daily due
Where footfalls fade, seen to unseen
Into that world of what has been
© Janet Martin
Oh, this is superb, and “lost to yesterdays” is a keeper.
Gorgeous poem. Iambic tetrameter suits this form perfectly.
I fell in love with that first stanza, and it flowed like a river of life from that point on.
Janet, this is an exceptional poem. It flows easily when read out loud and the form seems to work wonderfully for you here. I am happy with your result as I’m sure you must be! Thanks for this!
Janet, your poetry is so soft and elegant, it makes me sigh. This is superbly beautiful.
Janet, I love this gentle and almost whispered heartfelt caution, and I think the bookmarked repetitions are marvelous and add an urgency to the plea… lovely!
Closing Time
Closing time nears tick-by-tick
The DJ plays the final lick
Speakers blast their booming bass
Happy faces all over the place
Cracks like fireworks mix in
Closing time could be the end
Reality hits as people fall
Blood splatters on floors and walls
Panic overcome by fear
Running, tripping, screaming, tears
Confusion on the room descends
Closing time could be the end
Single gunman rules the room
Aiming, shooting, spreading doom
Innocents slaughtered one by one
Some play dead while others run
Desperate calls to family and friends
Closing time could be the end
© Earl Parsons
In memory of the innocents that were slaughtered in the nightclub in Orlando.
Well said.
heartbreaking!
Well done, Earl, and the refrain you picked was chillingly accurate.
Powerful stuff here, Earl! We all share in this memory. Thank you for sharing it here!
Thank you, Earl. Your piece is sympathetic and touching.
Earl, such powerful images and emotions. Too sad its so real.
UNSUITED
In my younger years,
when life had yet few tears,
I once proposed to Rose.
But Rose could not suppose
that she could spend her life
as my helpmeet and wife.
Later, I met Daisy,
a lovely girl, but lazy;
but when I said, “Let’s marry,”
she didn’t even tarry.
She said she’d wield a knife
as my helpmeet and wife.
I must have asked a dozen;
I even asked a cousin
but all of them said, “Nope.”
But still, I have some hope:
someone will loose my strife
as my helpmeet and wife.
lol! love it.
Wonderful saga, William.
This is adorable!
Oh my goodness! This one put a grin on my face! 😀
Ha! Bill, I love the double meaning in this title!
Sara and Walt, thanks for such superb examples. You’ve set the bar way up there.
Walt and I appreciate feedback for how our plantings are faring.
Echoing what Sara has said, and smiling at your Collins Sestet. Well done, William!
A Tale Without Title
I’m held by the call of doves.
Do they know the risks of love?
Oh the stories doves could tell,
the loss, the sorrow that befell
a tender heart, a stoney fit,
but that’s the nature of it.
Cool-hearted, crystal kiss, love
fell into dusk from skies above,
his arms entwined like ivy braids,
passion spilled right where they laid.
Coiled deep in folds they slip,
because that’s the nature of it.
Hear the flowers, bent near broken,
hear the pines, their scent soft spoken,
forest dim holds whispers cruel,
ripples fill that drowning pool
where her life did slowly slip,
because that’s the nature of it.
ah. yes! beautiful.
Thanks!
Bravo. Ir’s a lovely form in your hands.
Thanks, Viv. xx
Beautiful, flowing life told by a wonderful poet.
Thanks, Sara! 😀
Wow. Breathtaking.
Wow. Thanks!
This poem has a “natural” flow and feel to it, Marilyn. The beauty of it is entwined with the form. Very nice.
Thank you, Walt. I’m delighted that you like it.
Indeed it is. Beautifully penned, as always, Misk.
Thanks Marie!
“Hear the flowers… hear the pines…” I love the gentle sorrow spoken so softly here.
Thank you so very much.
Turn Around
The road most traveled may not be
The best road for the brave and free
That road may lead to eventual doom
Even, perhaps, America’s tomb
Not on my watch will I stand down
We, the people, must turn around
The downhill slide is steeper yet
As more demand what they can get
From those of us that earn our way
In hopes of better, brighter days
And dreams this country’s fathers found
We, the people, must turn around
We must turn back to our Father, God
Turn away from greed and hate and fraud
Instill in all the importance of pride
Raise high Old Glory far and wide
Survival the message we must resound
We, the people, must turn around
© Earl Parsons
Steadfast message, Earl. Another great Collins Sestet!
Great message, well penned.
A constant call on the human condition, so well emphasized by the refrain. Well done in my opinion.
A great way to make my brain struggle! I love form poetry, but found this one difficult. https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2016/06/15/a-hero-collins-sestet/
I replied to this at dVerse, but it bears repeating you’ve managed to work both prompts exquisitely for a very fine poem! Great work, Viv.
Thanks, Walt.
Loved this Viv, how you employed Mandela’s purpose as your core in the repeating phrase but with varying responses from “his people.”
Agreed
[…] Shared at Poetic Bloomings – INFORM POETS: COLLINS SESTET […]
For those who haven’t seen it, I’ve been blogging about my last year in the 40s. I’ll be 50 in September – and my goal is to be happier at 50 than I was turning 49. In case you’re interested, here’s the blog address: https://before49turnsto50.wordpress.com/
DOING MORE OF WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY
As I’ve gotten older (now nearly fifty)
I’ve shifted my goals, becoming quite thrifty.
Responsibility, after all, comes with a cost
for too many years, moderation was lost!
So many things to get me off track, while
I now focus on what makes me smile.
Life has become too packed and too busy
all work and no play is making me dizzy.
Those around me, have learned the look
of when it’s time for my crayons and book!
So many things to get me off track, while
I now focus on what makes me smile.
The tensions that build in my shoulders and neck
tell me it’s time to get my stressors in check.
So it’s off to the gym, or to yoga for me!
Or one of my favorites, a class of Tai Chi!
So many things to get me off track, while
I now focus on what makes me smile.
A superb Collins Sestet for one so shadorma oriented! 😉 Now, this is how a collins sestet could flow if you put your mind to it! Great job, Paula!
Amen to Walt’s comment.
Thanks, Sara! 🙂
Amen
Thanks, William. 🙂
Thanks, Walt — not only for the kind words, but for the encouragement to try a new form.
You are unlimited! You just need to remind yourself from time to time. (And in failing that, I’ll tell you! 😉 )
This made me smile, so you’ve made me happy and de-stressed!
Thanks, Misky! Head to my blog (via the pingback above my post) to see my most recent coloring book project.
Left a comment on your blog, Paula.
Excellent, Paula. “The tensions that build in my shoulders and neck” … I know exactly. Hugs to you!
Paula, just getting there (where you’re at) in my sixties. Good use of the repeat to imply an intentional refocus!
POET
She writes, and scenes appear before my eyes:
from mere minutiae to starshine skies;
from comedy with tragic overtones
to streamlets whispering among the stones.
She paints the world completely, line by line;
her poems are so right, almost divine.
She masters meter mixed with masks of sound
as melody and harmony abound
in stanza after stanza. As I read,
she teases music from each tree and weed
and makes sublime the locusts’ summer whine.
Her poems are so right, almost divine;
indeed, if heaven is reality,
then somewhere in its shire her soul must be
ensconced within a green and golden place,
for Earth could never birth such gleaming grace.
Her words make stories tremble, sing, and shine;
her poems are so right, almost divine.
This could very well have been written for our Janet. ❤ Absolutely lovely.
I was thinking of several, yourself included. I also wanted to play with the divine pentameter. I sometimes forget how difficult that extra beat can be.
Humbling. Sooo humbling. Thank you, Bill. Your pentameter is flawless, words are beautiful, and message is uplifting. Thank you.
Bill, a well-written tribute I love these two lines especially:
she teases music from each tree and weed
and makes sublime the locusts’ summer whine.”
[…] Collins Sestet featured at POETIC BLOOMINGS and offered at dVerse Poets Pub: Meter-Made-Mood – […]
IN PERIL
This shining city on a hill
Has but a flicker of goodwill.
Our homeland’s in profound unrest;
Precarious as a young stork’s nest.
No longer held in high esteem …
Yet pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.
Our brethren’s blood runs through our streets.
Unwelcome history repeats.
We’ve chosen shady and debased
To fill an office that’s disgraced
While haters hate, and schemers scheme.
Still pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.
But God grants vision to the blind,
Redeems the lost; restores mankind.
His faithfulness is unsurpassed,
As through it all, His love holds fast.
My hopefulness remains agleam …
While pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
While our heart is anxious, we will put our trust in Him… and as we do our dreams surrender to our hope and faith. Well done Marie.
Thank you so much. I always enjoy your words of encouragement.
Great refrain line bringing so much strength to the rest of a wonderful poem. Your poem certainly is “divine” as the meter is spot on and your rhyme does not feel forced or out of place! Nicely done, Marie!
Thank you so much, Pard! I’m actually not happy with the first stanza, but that’s okay. Maybe I’ll come back to it, or maybe I’ll let it be. 🙂
As a writer it would be your first priority… to see if you could make it better – revision is always key. Or you certainly could be McCartney-esque and “Let It Be”. I’d lean toward that option on this one!
A Beetle fan, always. 🙂
I like the hope that ends this, accentuated, I think, by the sound of the repeated line.
Thank you!
May I say this out loud? Walt and Sara, your examples far surpass that of Ms. Collins, IMHO. Wow.
I don’t know if I’d go that far, but as long as you’re saying it out loud I won’t stop you. (Never could, never will) 😉 Thanks, Pard!
😉 ❤
Thank you for your lovely, flattering words, Marie. As you know, I love being a flower among brilliant species.
Just speakin’ the truth as I see it, Ma’am. 😀
ANGELS
These eyes have witnessed angels on the move,
Though evidence of this I cannot prove.
Naysayers shake their heads and scoff at me.
“The man spends too much time in fantasy.
If science cannot put it to the test,
Then you should put what you believe to rest.”
Three times an angel whispered in my ear
and warned me of a danger that was near.
I could have brushed it off and went my way,
But I heeded his voice and lived that day.
If I had taken angel talk in jest,
I would have put what I believe to rest.
At birth a loving God sends us a gift,
An angel to protect us at the cliff
Or when we muddle through the darkest seas
Convinced that we will drown in our misdeeds.
If I had turned away, would I be blessed?
I would have put what I believe to rest.
#
Loved this Sal, conviction evidenced and deepened in the discovered joy of the conclusive refrains.
Camping, without much of a connection, so late again working on this form. (Modified, w the first line the repeating line. )
Pastor for Morning
Bullfrog’s grunt rubs the air,
quiets Mist who quivers there,
tells her, tho harsh daylight comes,
tho across the sky Sun roams,
Night will hear the Day depart,
then return to still her heart.
Bullfrog’s grunt rubs the air,
answers timid Pond’s quiet prayer,
hears her pleas for wind to still,
tells her Dusk will soon fulfill
all her hopes for calm and peace,
making wind and waves all cease.
Bullfrog’s grunt rubs the air,
whispers then to Morning fair,
“Do not fear the callous Day,
when his time is gone away,
Moon, a-glowing, will come back,
dressed in stars and silky black.”
Bullfrog’s grunt rubs the air,
calms the dread of nature’s care.
Lo, the voice of hope is heard,
in his simple faithful word.
Let my words as Bullfrog’s be,
simple, honest, piety.
(c) Damon Dean, 2016