Sestina: John (gen, 500 words). Happy second day of National Poetry Month!

[bironic]

I still think this could use improvement, but here it is anyway.

Title: Sestina: John
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: John/team/gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Summary: John finds a home.
Spoilers: "Rising."
Disclaimer: Neither the canon nor the fanon that inspired this are mine.
A/N: I'm glad to have this finished, finally. Big thanks to beta-readers, especially roga and jadesfire2808, for encouraging me not to give up a few months ago and for pointing out the clunky parts.


When John first steps through the gate into Atlantis,
he doesn't feel afraid or excited or humbled or lost,
doesn't wonder what he's doing so far from home
in this dark and silent city at the bottom of an alien
sea. Blank and efficient, he secures the area for the civilian team.
It's his job; that's all. Until, beneath his boots, the city wakes.

As the lights flicker on, white and blue as the sea, it's as if John wakes
too; as if the gene, long dormant, stirs to life along with Atlantis,
humming warm in his chest, kindling a tentative joy reflected in the team's
awestruck faces around him. In his head, the city whispers, Be lost
no longer, child of the Ancestors; says, These sleeping halls you call alien
were made for you, have been waiting for you; says, Welcome home.

The city's siren song follows him even when he leaves this perhaps-home
to save it from drowning. It bears witness as he shoots his C.O. and wakes
the thousand shrieking horrors who dominate this nightmarish alien
food chain. It greets him when he returns in sudden command of Atlantis,
risen from the sea. It's comforting, but it's weird. He feels pretty damn lost.
Not that he'll admit it; a leader now, he needs to stay strong for his team.

Soon, the scientists and doctors as well as the soldiers become his team,
just as this ancient city on a faraway sea somehow becomes the home
he hasn't let himself have in years. On Earth, he'd believed he could never be lost
without a home to miss. Now, he lets the shushing waves soothe him when he wakes
from formless dreams of Wraith and death and desert sands. Atlantis
thrums a lullaby until he drifts off beneath stars that no longer seem alien.

In time, he loses the ability and the desire to distinguish "human" and "alien."
It's the same with Elizabeth, Teyla, Rodney, Ronon, grown closer than a team;
they're his family. He'd give his life for any of them, and for Atlantis,
this city of misfits from two galaxies, their oasis on the sea, their forever home.
They've celebrated too many victories, grieved through too many wakes,
to be anything else. Together, they shoulder the weight of all they've won and lost.

On the reverse trip, gating to Earth, John is immediately, nauseatingly lost.
The crowds, the strip malls, the fast food joints, present an utterly alien
culture that drives him to his silent, bare apartment, where he waits to wake
from this dream. All that anchors him are daily phone calls from his team,
similarly at sea on this bustling, blessedly ignorant planet he'd called home.
At meetings, at mealtimes, at midnight, all he can think of is Atlantis.

John wakes early on their last day of leave. Gathering his team,
each one human and alien in their own way, he flies them home,
soaring over the sea to the glittering spires of the once-lost city of Atlantis.




Feedback and concrit are very welcome.
 
 

Comments

[celebriangel.livejournal.com]

*first comment dance*

Now, I'm not entirely up on all the Sheppard backstory, but this seems pretty darn accurate. I remember that episode where they pretend went back to earth, and John looked about as comfy as a jellyfish on a porcupine.

I'm not exactly sure how a sestina works, but the form works really well and flows naturally. I want to hug this (or possibly John), but I'm making do with hugging my laptop. He does look kindof like a little lost boy at times.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

You're not that behind just having seen one season, y'know; we hardly had any Sheppard backstory for three seasons, which was both frustrating and liberating. Most of what we know apart from the "black mark" line in the pilot comes from "Phantoms" in S3 and "Outcast" in S4. Unless I'm forgetting another one.

John looked about as comfy as a jellyfish on a porcupine.

:D What a great description.

p.s. There's a good description of the sestina form here (http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5792). Basically, it's six verses with the same six end-words repeated in a certain order, and then a three-line envoi containing all six words. It's fun to work with. I did one for McKay (http://bironic.livejournal.com/92437.html), too, which was a blast, although you may not want to read it until you've seen "The Hive" in season two.

[celebriangel.livejournal.com]

I tend to invent things like that description in my head, and then I say them. If I didn't self-edit, halfway through my darkfics there'd be crack *headdesk*.

I'm working my way through season 2 right now, though it's going to be suspended by my pending trip to Italy.

Quite a lot is hinted about Sheppard's past, which is cool because then you can make of it what you will, and still provide evidence :D

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Truly, subtext is fabulous.

Have a great trip!

[roga.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you posted! This is gorgeous, and every single one of the changes not only works, but works well. The third verse especially - "shrieking horrors"? That's creepy. Anyway, all of it, it flows and it's John and it's poetry and that's amazing.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thanks again for your invaluable assistance! The poem is the better for it. I hope the end doesn't still irk you. Aside from the structural demands, I just like the rhythm of that last phrase so much.

[roga.livejournal.com]

Oh, no, it's great - it didn't really bother me, it was just something I noticed. And anyway, I am but one voice! The only person who really counts here is you.

[jadesfire.livejournal.com]

Drat, meant to comment yesterday - this is so good, and I wanted to tell you so before you posted! :)

The third stanza absolutely works now, giving plot and character equally, and the structure really pulls us through. I love the sense of dislocation on earth - the sestina structure really drives that home, where it's the same words but an utterly different atmosphere. The whole thing blends plot and character, and I love the different meaning you give to "alien" and "wakes" in the last two stanzas - I love it when you play with the structure like that.

For some reason, I particlarly love the phrase "oasis on the sea"...can't figure out why, it just feels right, somehow.

Gorgeous, as ever. Brava!

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Oh! Yay. That is a relief, coming from my best poem critiquer.

I'm very glad you think the third stanza works now; I had your voice in the back of my head during revisions, saying the transition was too jarring and the emphasis too heavy on plot we already knew, and hoped the insertion/threading of the song would help.

roga was the one who suggested "wake" in the funereal sense, so all credit to her. :)

I particlarly love the phrase "oasis on the sea"...can't figure out why, it just feels right, somehow.

Neat. I put that in because I was trying to get "sea" and "city" in each stanza (and managed it, except for "city" in the next-to-last stanza; but that's okay, see, because they're not on Atlantis, and John misses the city... or something *g*), and the city as an island came to mind, and "oasis" felt right when John had just compared everyone on it to misfits seeking a haven. Looking at it now, I like that it also ties back to the desert in the previous stanza. It's really very different from anything John's had in his life before.

Thanks again for help and feedback!

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

Your sestinas absolutely blow me away. Seriously.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Oh, what a wonderful thing to say and to hear. Thank you. ♥

[daasgrrl.livejournal.com]

I don't have the background for this apart from the first episode, which I thought you captured perfectly, but it flows very naturally, and the themes come through loud and clear. I'm not sure what you think needs improving! :)

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Would you like a list? *g* To many "to be"s, trying to cram too much into each line, covering too much time, writing too loosely, buying into the sentient!Atlantis cliche, rehashing what fandom's been saying about John for years, too much "feel"ing going on, clunky phrasing here and there.... Well. Maybe with time (distance) it will sit better.

But I feel bad talking about what I don't like when people are saying it's good, because then it sounds like I don't think they have good taste or something. So -- thanks for reading, and it does help that you found the themes coherent and that it reads well.

p.s. I've got Chaos now; just need to sit down and actually start reading it.

[daasgrrl.livejournal.com]

Hee, own worst critic. Apart from the 'I hadn't noticed' of most of those, I liked that you covered a large span of time in it. Epic and all :)

And I don't know how much you know about chaos theory already, but hopefully you'll enjoy it!

[bironic.livejournal.com]

own worst critic.

*g* Yeah, well. If you're not hard on yourself, who will be?

Everything I know about chaos theory I learned from Michael Crichton's The Lost World. And maybe a Scientific American article or two. So I've got some sketchy basics but expect to learn lots more, enjoyably.

[horridporrid.livejournal.com]

I liked this. I thought the lyrical nature of the poem served John well. (He strikes me as more artistic and poetic than I think he'd admit to.)

I don't feel qualified to give any concrit (I like poetry, but my understanding of it is very surfacy, I think). But I did like the themes of being lost and being alien and finding home and finding family (or team).

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thanks! That's a cool point about John being more poetic than he lets on, or than he even admits to himself. (Well, hey, he likes Johnny Cash, and he's an excellent writer/poet, right?) I'm also glad to hear the themes came through clearly. I think Atlantis is a lot about home and adopted family for John, and while it's all been covered much more extensively in fandom already, I wanted to try to explore that here.

[briar_pipe]

I'm blown away. I wish I were more coherent, but this is just amazing.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you! I'm so glad you liked it.

[cupidsbow.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Thank you! You know, your voice was in the back of my head as I worked on this, after the insightful crit you gave on some previous poems. I'm still trying to make my sestinas better, tighter, more poetic, and they have a way to go yet, but I hope to get there in time.

[cupidsbow.livejournal.com]

I remember that conversation we had, mainly because I found your use of the sestina form so interesting.

One of the things you've done really well in this sestina is evoked the sea in so many ways in the different stanzas, so that it becomes a kind of palimpsest linking home-John-Atlantis. It's such a perfect image for Atlantis, and it makes the the penultimate stanza with "All that anchors him are daily phone calls from his team" so poignant.

Since we last talked about this, I found one of the poems I was trying to evoke for you. It's "Sestina d'Inverno" by Anthony Hecht.

Here in this bleak city of Rochester,
Where there are twenty-seven words for "snow,"
Not all of them polite, the wayward mind
Basks in some Yucatan of its own making,
Some coppery, sleek lagoon, or cinnamon island
Alive with lemon tints and burnished natives,

And O that we were there. But here the natives
Of this gray, sunless city of Rochester
Have sown whole mines of salt about their land
(Bare ruined Carthage that it is) while snow
Comes down as if The Flood were in the making.
Yet on that ocean Marvell called the mind

An ark sets forth which is itself the mind,
Bound for some pungent green, some shore whose natives
Blend coriander, cayenne, mint in making
Roasts that would gladden the Earl of Rochester
With sinfulness, and melt polar snow.
It might be well to remember that an island

Was a blessed haven once, more than an island,
The grand, utopian dream of a noble mind.
In that kind of climate the mere thought of snow
Was but a wedding cake; the youthful natives,
Unable to conceive of Rochester,
Made love, and were acrobatic in the making.

Dream as we may, there is far more to making
Do than some wistful reverie of an island,
Especially now when hope lies with the Rochester
Gas and Electric Co., which doesn't mind
Such profitable weather, while the natives
Sink, like Pompeians, under a world of snow.

The one thing indisputable here is snow,
The single verity of heaven's making,
Deeply indifferent to the dreams of the natives
And the torn boarding-posters of some island.
Under our igloo skies the frozen mind
Holds to one truth: it is gray, and called Rochester.

No island fantasy survives Rochester,
Where to the natives destiny is snow
That is neither to our mind nor of our making.


I think that illustrates what I meant by echoes and repetition within the lines much better than any attempts at analysis on my part. And this SGA sestina of your has a similar feel -- the echoes of the ocean work in the same way as the spices and the gray of old snow in Hecht's poem. I think what makes Hecht's work so well is the way the exotic fantasy words run counter to the dreary, dull words for weather -- it gives me such a strong longing to be anywhere but in the slushy cold of Rochester! And yet Rochester feels like such a familiar place by the end of the poem -- I've been to the equivalent of Rochester and yearned to be anywhere else.

I get a similar feeling with the word "anchor" when John's on Earth, and relying on his team for a sense of home. I've been there too -- feeling rootless and adrift, sometimes literally homeless (while moving or travelling) and anchored by the people I love.

And I'll shut up now. My point is just that I think you're getting really good.

ETA: to fix typos, and add that I got the poem from The Norton Anthology of Poetry.

[kassrachel.livejournal.com]

On Earth, he'd believed he could never be lost / without a home to miss.

Oh, JOHN.

He'd give his life for any of them, and for Atlantis, / this city of misfits from two galaxies, their oasis on the sea, their forever home.

That's a lovely turn of phrase, that is.

I like the end-words you chose here; they're perfect in their versatility.