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What will become the drink of choice tonight?

In English, the sestina is often written in iambic pentameter. This thirty-nine lined poem is broken into six sestets (six lined stanzas) and one triplet (three lined stanza) and is typically written without rhyme. Instead of the rhyme, the last word of each line in stanza one is repeated as the last work in each line of subsequent stanzas, in a particular order. In the final three stanzas, called an envoi, these words are used two to a line, with one falling in the middle of each line and one coming at the end of the line.

For the diagram of the form I will not try to show the meter, instead I will only diagram the end word pattern. The basic scheme is for each subsequent stanza end word to be the same as the previous stanza's in the following pattern 6-1-5-2-4-3, or more graphically represented as follows:

Lines       end word
1             A
2             B
3             C
4             D
5             E
6             F

7             F
8             A
9             E
10           B
11           D
12           C

13           C
14           F
15           D
16           A
17           B
18           E

19           E
20           C
21           B
22           F
23           A
24           D

25           D
26           E
27           A
28           C
29           F
30           B

31           B
32           D
33           F
34           E
35           C
36           A

37           B    E
38           D    C
39           F    A

While many poets will use an iambic pentameter meter (xX xX xX xX xX) for the lines of a sestina, I include a free form example to exhibit the end word pattern. While this is a variation of the normal sestina form, the end word pattern meets the pattern described above (poem used with permission of author):

blue sestina

in the night
        a lonely moon
      and slow horn song,
                played so slow
        a trumpet moan
from long ago

so, so long ago
        remember night
      the slow horn moan
            and midnight moon
      we danced so slow
to every song

and one sad song
      sang long ago
    we sang it slow
            that sad, sad night
      and from the moon
a soft brass moan

I felt that moan
      deep in our song
    beneath the moon
            those years ago
      the very night
that went so slow

but fast or slow
      that bluesy moan
    in the teardrop night
            heard a crying song
      of a time ago
and a far off moon

we sear

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