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Author Topic:   Sestinas - How to Write One Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 17, 2008 02:39 PM How to Write a Sestina By eHow Education Editor http://www.ehow.com/how_16712_write-sestina.html A traditional poetic form created by Arnaut Daniel, the sestina is made up of six six-line stanzas and a final three-line envoi. Written in iambic pentameter, the sestina is unique in that the poet is required to end each line using a set pattern of the same six words. Instructions Things You’ll Need: Dictionaries Thesauri Step 1: Consider the subject matter that you wish to write about. Think about words related to your subject that you could use several times throughout your poem. Step 2: Write your first stanza (and those that follow) using iambic pentameter. The words that end each line in this stanza (identified as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) will determine the words that end every stanza in your sestina. Step 3: Add a second stanza using those words in a 6, 1, 5, 2, 4, 3 order. If you do this correctly, the word used to end the first line of this stanza should be the same one you used in the sixth line of the previous stanza. The second should match the first, and so on. Step 4: Write a third stanza using a 3, 6, 4, 1, 2, 5 pattern, followed by a fourth stanza with a 5, 3, 2, 6, 1, 4 pattern. Stanza five should use a 4, 5, 1, 3, 6, 2 pattern, and stanza six should employ a 2, 4, 6, 5, 3, 1 pattern. Step 5: Draft a seventh stanza that is three lines in length, using all six ending words in the following places. Your ending words used in the second, fourth and sixth lines must be used halfway through the lines of this stanza. The fifth, third and first ending words of the first stanza are used to end the lines of this stanza, in that order. Step 6: Revise as needed. Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 17, 2008 02:53 PM My First Sestina (I tried one another time and broke the rules because I'd failed to read them properly) I would love to see others posted here for the exercise. _______________________________________ Two people stood atop a distant hill. I saw them as I left today from work, as soon as I had shut the wooden gate behind me and had chugged a drink of water. There was no place I really had to go, and so I took my time. I didn’t run the way I sometimes do – I often run as if life were a race. But on that hill the silhouetted couple stood. I go and come the same way every day from work, taking for granted things like sun and water. Familiar things get lost. Sometimes a gate will make me pause and think; a creaking gate especially so, and sounds of things that run, like trickling brooks. There is a voice in water that’s like an echo coming off a hill where heavy clouds laid down their burdensome work, and, like me, found their peace in letting go of weight that binds. The moments come and go as fast as rabbits rushing toward a gate in search of freedom. There is always work enough to keep us feeling on-the-run. The move toward pleasure always seems up hill, against the laws that govern running water. And nothing is alive where there’s no water that's troubled – living things must come and go. Stagnation lies beneath a quiet hill of graves, behind the locking of a gate in wrought iron stillness. Living things must run. An idle body has no line of work to keep its spirit going. Life needs work – and workers need a living well of water to keep the heart from fainting as they run. Recycling seems the only way to go. Yes life’s a circle, and each of us a gate that God has set upon his lovely hill. I bike to work near waterfalls that run. so brisk and full of life, go through the gate and drink the sun-rise lilting on the hill. [This message has been edited by Anne Bryant-Hamon (edited April 17, 2008).] Michael Cantor Member Posts: 4949 From:Plum Island, MA USA Registered: Oct 2001 posted April 17, 2008 04:16 PM Here's my absolute favorite part. quote: Originally posted by Anne Bryant-Hamon: Things You’ll Need: Dictionaries Thesauri [This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited April 17, 2008).] Roger Slater Member Posts: 5543 From:New York Registered: Jun 2001 posted April 17, 2008 04:28 PM Things You'll Need: Dictionaries Thesauri, Trail Mix, Thermal Underwear, Nose Plugs. * (Anyone care to write the next six lines of the sestina?) [This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited April 17, 2008).] Laura Heidy-Halberstein Member Posts: 275 From:Alexandria Registered: Oct 2007 posted April 17, 2008 04:48 PM Someone (Lewis Turco, perhaps?) correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't Sestina's traditionally syllabic as opposed to iambic pentameter? I mean, jeez, they're hard enough to write as it is without demanding that they also be strictly metered. Lo Laura Heidy-Halberstein Member Posts: 275 From:Alexandria Registered: Oct 2007 posted April 17, 2008 04:52 PM Here ya go, Anne, just to prove I can be a good sport when the mood overtakes me. February, 1974 Sometimes there's nothing left to do but pack your bags and leave. To stick around would be to court disasterous results. Brown drugs in foil packages lay scattered 'cross the floor. Go elsewhere quickly now - don't wait. It's all your fault. The stage was set by someone else whose cue you should have recognized. This is your cue - the baby's cry, the watching dogs that pack around his crib, protectively, like it's your fault their life is such a mess. He goes to court today, he won't be home. It's time to go - to grab the kid, the dogs, your clothes, and foil his attempts to keep you locked inside. So, do it. Foil him - don't lose your courage now. The broken pool cue in the bedroom says it all. This man can kill. Go far away and change your name. Don't bother packing anything, just leave it all behind. The court won't keep him jailed up tight for long. It's not their fault, the case is weak. If anyone's at fault it might be you. You've been the perfect foil far too long. So scared, so meek and mild. You're courting death if you don't leave. Take one more cue from life before you die that needlessly. Just pack your baby and your dogs and run away. Go - Hurry - steal his keys and take his car. Go find a place that's safe before you die. The fault's your own. You should have left six months ago. Pack the diaper bag with toys and doggie bones. The foil packages and burnt spoons stay behind. The pool cue in the corner that once kissed your empty head stays in his court. You've got to move more quickly now. Don't court disaster's clock. Grab your sanity and go. You're very young, I know, and that's your cue. You've got a life to live. It's his own fault if someday he should overdose and foil his last chance at staying clean. You pack. You go. Take your child and your dogs. They'll take their cue from you so please don't cry. Leave the foil to be dealt with by the court. Pack this conviction with the bottles and the bones. It's not your fault. [This message has been edited by Laura Heidy-Halberstein (edited April 17, 2008).] Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 17, 2008 05:36 PM Fascinating, Laura. It's unclear to me whether this is something you wrote in '74 or just now wrote. Either way, I do hope you had fun writing it. I thought sestinas were supposed to be in IP - but I'm no expert. If others want to do this exercise but would like to avoid the fretful, frightful, fraying fringes, feel free to send me yours in PM. Anne Laura Heidy-Halberstein Member Posts: 275 From:Alexandria Registered: Oct 2007 posted April 18, 2008 06:27 AM quote: Originally posted by Anne Bryant-Hamon: . I do hope you had fun writing it. Anne Actually, it wasn't fun at all. Lo Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 18, 2008 07:10 AM quote: Actually, it wasn't fun at all. Lo Some people love writing sestinas. One particular poet comes to mind. I think they're a bit unnatural. But I wanted to try it. So that's why I started this thread. I usually don't have 39 lines to say about anything in a poem. It was always a stretch for me to write longer forms like that ballade and Chant Royal. For sure I will never write a novel :-) Take care - Anne Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 18, 2008 06:09 PM Hi Anne, This seemed like a fun drill so I thought I'd join in. It isn't my first sestina, but I think it's one of the only ones I didn't write while drunk in a bar or at a party. Thanks for posting this. Hope you had as much fun as I did. I thought when you were gone my peace was made, But now your empty pillow mocks my joy. I picture you asleep, an earthly angel, Who only lacks the wings to bring him home. I would be willing to forgive all wrongs, If only I could trust you to be kind. The other day you smiled, you were so kind I thought that with you back, our peace was made, But then you blew me off, revived dead wrongs, And resurrected sorrow to kill joy. So now, though I am drawn, I can’t go home To him who one time seemed to be an angel. Perhaps, although unkind, you are an angel, But I’d prefer a man, if he were kind. For years you reassured me you’d come home, But still you strayed. And what home can be made Out of an empty house, built without joy And with a cornerstone made up of wrongs? Let us forgive the past, forget all wrongs. Let us be true. I’ll guard you like an angel Guards sleeping children, and fills their dreams with joy So they may dream of peace. Let us be kind And let us claim a future newly made To stand forever as an earthly home. But still you stay away. Forget the home, Forget the dreams we had. Remember wrongs. Remember in the solitude you made That love is difficult. I’m not an angel And I can’t save you, though I would be kind. So let us stay alone and forget joy. Why does your voice still fill me with such joy? Why, when I hear it, do I feel at home? Leave me alone, if you wish to be kind. ‘Cos running hot and cold adds to the wrongs. But still, though you are cruel, you are my angel And so I’ll say to you whose absence made All of the joy we felt transform to wrongs. But if I could go home and find my angel Pretending to be kind, my peace were made. Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 18, 2008 06:25 PM Hi Barb - Thanks for joining in. This one is filled with angst. Such sorrow often 'feels uncommon', but is common to us all. My greatest peace came when I finally understood that no one could be a 'husband' to me except for Christ. I think I used to believe that one man could be "like God" and keep me company. No one can do that... because God has been diced up into bits and scattered over the earth! I hope you don't mind the personal commentary on the content of your poem. I'm like Solomon who had many wives (except I have many husbands, i.e. people who are precious to me). I think my husband is a certain part buried inside of every man (person). Admittedly, sometimes that precious pearl is so covered with mud that I cannot find it! Gosh, I bet I sound like a werido! Oh well. Just felt like telling you these things. I don't think I like the sestina as a poetry form all that much. I've never read one that I thought was an awesome piece of poetry. Perhaps there's one hidden somewhere that I just haven't laid my eyes on yet. But I have my doubts To have 6 repeated words spread over 6 stanzas often comes off as sounding rather monotonous (IMO). This comment is toward sestinas in general, not yours specifically. Grace and peace to you - Anne Janet Kenny Member Posts: 12455 From:Queensland, (was Sydney) Australia Registered: Dec 2001 posted April 19, 2008 07:56 AM We talked about sestinas with Rhina on Mastery a good while ago. I posted this. Lo, I don't see why it's harder to use meter in a sestina than anywhere else. This is written about women who were left without men because of wars. I knew many in my childhood. They became feminists and had careers and fun. And nearly all sestinas are dull. I remember we found some which were anything but. This isn't anything special just an attempt to write one of the jolly things. To Maiden Aunts Too glib, to condescend to maiden aunts who saw the world at war, as all at once their world went mad and robbed them of their chance to live their lives. No whisper or response to make them feel like flowers. No romance to sing their hearts into a fervent dance. And if fate toyed with them, and at some dance they met a boy who charmed them, maiden aunts were far too frightened to believe romance could promise them a future. Never once did they entrust their youthful heart’s response to love. It was too great a loss to chance. They saw life as a brutal game of chance where happiness was like a firefly’s dance, elusive and capricious. Their response was frozen. Thus the girls turned into aunts before their beauty faded. All at once they turned to books and study for romance. The scholar aunts were teachers and romance for them was knowledge. They gave girls the chance to own their lives. They told them all how once girls had no freedom, and their eyes would dance when Eliot (George not Tom) spoke well of aunts and Woolf (Virginia) wrote their response. They saw their younger sisters’ vain response-- new furniture, designer clothes--romance had trapped them in domestic dullness. Aunts had independence. They each seized the chance to travel. Correspondence traced their dance through fabled cities, loving more than once. They knew where history and drama once enacted out a passionate response, and on exotic tombs their spirits danced to unfamiliar music. A romance that echoed through the universe. A chance to travel with the Bodhisattva aunts. My favourite aunt once said that real romance was more than a response to casual chance, but rather freedom’s dance for captive aunts. Frank Hubeny Member Posts: 349 From:Illinois, USA Registered: Sep 2004 posted April 19, 2008 10:16 AM Theft They left when no guard saw them go And took with them the Diamond Heart. This theft we all would later know As why the Diamond War would start When death removed the gorgeous glow From bodies dumped inside the cart. The bodies dumped inside the cart Had nowhere else where they could go. They lost the life that made them glow. You cannot warm a stiffened heart. Though no one thought this war would start, It did, and now that's all we know. It started, and that's all we know. I see your head rest in the cart. They stop, reload, and then they start. I cannot go where you will go At least until my weakened heart Goes stiff and loses all its glow. It's stiff and lost all of its glow. The thieves escaped, but they don't know What happened to the Diamond Heart When you were placed inside the cart. This one must stay, but some must go, And further warfare needs to start. As further warfare wants to start, The Diamond Heart will cease to glow, At least for those who have to go, Who never more will need to know The others lying in the cart Are still just like the Diamond Heart. They're still just like the Diamond Heart, But did their beating ever start, Or were they always in the cart, And did some ever see them glow? The thieves confuse all that we know, Except we also have to go. It is the heart that makes one glow, But when we start, we soon will know Into the cart, we all shall go. Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 19, 2008 03:19 PM Janet, I find your poem fascinating as one who has been both delighted and perplexed about the role of being a female in this world. I'm continually intrigued and annoyed by human sexuality. It seems to be at the root of everything both good and bad! Thanks for posting one! Not bad. :-) Anne Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 19, 2008 03:23 PM Frank - Yours is interesting. The talk of theft and Diamond wars reminded me of Africa and the hellish problems going on there. I'm wondering whether you and Barbara and Janet randomly chose 6 words and began writing, or if you thought about what you'd like to write about and then chose 6 words? The one I posted here was the result of choosing 6 words and just beginning to write, not knowing where it would take me. Thanks for the fun :-) It makes me happy when people come out to play poetry games with me. ***Smiles*** Anne Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 20, 2008 08:19 AM Dear Anne, In reply to your earlier post, I agree that no one's love could replace God's, but it's hard to be rational about love sometimes... I can't say I ever expected a guy to be like God, but I did hope he might stick around. Ah well. I like the idea of a pearl covered with mud. Of course, it does rather remind one of the advice not to throw pearls to swine. In answer to your question, as I wrote each line of the first stanza I thought about whether I could repeat the end word and I tried to choose ones that were easily repeated. 'Made', for that purpose, was probably a mistake. Barbara Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 20, 2008 11:28 AM Barbara - Interesting to know how you approached your sestina. You knew what you wanted to write about and in writing the first stanza chose the words. Perhaps I'd have more luck writing a sestina if I knew what I wanted to write about before-hand. As I said, I picked six words randomly and just dove in with no idea where I'd go...probably not the best approach for writing a sestina or any other form. My apologies if my personal comments came across as sounding insensitive. They were not meant to be and what I was trying to say probably made little sense. Should you decide you want to do a very challenging exercise, we could swap end words from the sestinas we've posted here and try to write another using each others six words. If you're not interested, I totally understand. But I think I will collect all of the end words from yours and Janet's and Frank's poem and try to write my own 3 sestinas with them just to make sure I don't like writing in the form. This will take me some time - I can't just spit one out in 30 minutes. :-) Anne Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 20, 2008 06:04 PM Dear Anne- No worries. I appreciated your comments a lot actually. And you're on for the exercise of swapping end words. Not sure when I'll get mine up, but should be before Tuesday anyhow. Ciao, Barbara Henry Quince Member Posts: 1670 From:Australia Registered: Aug 2002 posted April 20, 2008 09:27 PM A poem that sends up the form beautifully is “Bob”: http://www.pshares.org/issues/article.cfm?prmArticleID=4668 Also see this earlier Erato thread on “The Art of the Sestina”. http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/Forum3/HTML/000469.html [This message has been edited by Henry Quince (edited April 20, 2008).] Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 20, 2008 10:25 PM Anne- As promised: I watched my lover tumble down the hill And laughed to catch him, once more, shirking work. I tumbled after him down to the gate And walked back up alone to fetch the water. I turned my head to watch the slacker go Before I lugged the pail home at a run. Work’s harder when you do it at a run. (Or so I found it, though I ran downhill.) And so I said, “Where does Jack always go?” And, “Yet again he’s given me more work. Well, since he’s lazy, he shall have no water. I told him so when we were at the gate.” I stood and waited for you at the gate. You were too beautiful, I had to run And make you chase me, carrying the water. I laughed to see your anger on the hill When, once again, I’d left you all the work. But if you catch me, Jill, again we’ll go And tumble down, (I will not let you go) Over the grass and flowers to the gate And you can mock me for my fear of work. While all the world is laughing, we will run And find a quiet place upon the hill Where we may watch the sun set on the water. Perhaps we’ll drink a sip or two of water Or share the wine I brought before we go And once more tumble down our secret hill Until I break my crown upon the gate And beg, before I faint, that you will run And fetch the doctor quickly from his work. I will survive, only to dodge my work. I’ll ditch you every time you fetch the water. And in the afternoons I’ll want to run With you through fields and woods. Perhaps we’ll go And have our secret meetings by the gate. I always loved to kiss you on the hill. Yes, I will flee from work and then I’ll go And fetching water, find Jack at the gate, So we may daily run upon our hill. [This message has been edited by Barbara Godwin (edited April 20, 2008).] Frank Hubeny Member Posts: 349 From:Illinois, USA Registered: Sep 2004 posted April 20, 2008 11:32 PM quote: Originally posted by Anne Bryant-Hamon: I'm wondering whether you and Barbara and Janet randomly chose 6 words and began writing, or if you thought about what you'd like to write about and then chose 6 words? I started with the first stanza and then, painstakingly, tried to figure out which end-word had to go on which succeeding line. That ordering was the most difficult part of the challenge. I kept getting the permutations wrong. So the chosen words were whatever worked in the first stanza. I did choose the end-words to be simple rhymes to add some repeated sound to the sestina, which I think it lacks. I also shortened the lines to tetrameter and repeated the 6th line in the 1st of the next stanza. All that is not in the original rule. To me, the sestina is a mathematical pattern that has no sound (metrical/poetic) value associated with the permutation of the end words. And that makes me question whether the sestina is a true form rather than merely an arbitrary rule. Meter in a language is more than the description of it, that is, more than the number of syllables, accents, alliterations, rhymes, or repetitions that are detected by those scanning the poem. It is something that is pleasing to the ear of many native listeners, which may turn out to be not easily scanned. The sestina, however, starts with an arbitrary description rather than a pleasing pattern already in existence in the language. Adding the false assumption that the existence of a description implies the existence of a poetic form, one gets the false conclusion that the sestina is a poetic form. To my ear, the sestina, as a rule, is unlikely to succeed as a form in any language. The rhymed example by Swinburne that Henry Quince mentioned in the thread he cited I thought was interesting, but even with that example, I don't see why the permutation of the end-words was necessary. The arbitrary rule got in the way even there. Nor do I see the benefit of adding this end-word permutation constraint to anything written in free or blank verse. Thanks for the challenge, Anne. It was the only sestina I've ever written. [This message has been edited by Frank Hubeny (edited April 20, 2008).] Frank Hubeny Member Posts: 349 From:Illinois, USA Registered: Sep 2004 posted April 20, 2008 11:46 PM Nice retelling of the Jack and Jill story, Barbara. Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 21, 2008 12:31 AM quote: Originally posted by Frank Hubeny: Nice retelling of the Jack and Jill story, Barbara. I agree, the retelling of something familiar to me made it more enjoyable. Way to go Barbara. I will be working on mine this week. Frank, I tend to agree with your thoughts about the sestina. I think it is "a kind of poem" (if we don't want to include it in formal poetry) that can only rarely succeed as a very good poem that people would want to read again and again. That's how classics are made - you want to read them again and again. Henry, I glanced at the first link and wondered what all the Bobbing was about. I'll have to check more into this stuff later - it is past my bed-time. Thanks everybody! Watch this space this week for my upcoming sestina, but don't set your hopes too high! Anne Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 21, 2008 08:36 AM Thanks Frank and Anne. Jack and Jill were the first things that came to mind when I saw your end words. I don't know what I think about Sestinas either. They're a fun challenge to write, but I don't usually keep them afterwards. Barbara Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 28, 2008 02:33 AM Hello, Barbara - Sorry this was so long in coming. I had a sinus headache for most of the week, but still had to be at work. I find it difficult to write when I have a headache. Excuses, excuses, everyone has one! And may I say, I don't much care for the result of this exercise for myself - meaning, I ain't crazy about the sestina I made with these end words, mostly because it sounds redundant (and perhaps corny, though I do believe what I'm saying in it). For time's sake, I'm going to leave the all caps since you don't mind them anyway - and also, I'm pretty sure I made a mistake in my 7th stanza, but am sick to death of the sestina so I am not going to fix it. And now that the into is over... here she is: From land and sea a melting pot was made Of people stirred together of every kind Of tongue and tribe and race without a home To call their own. They sailed in search of joy Or something not delivered by an angel – For justice from a litany of wrongs. Each one was dealt a smattering of wrongs Men measured out on nations that were made A wasteland. It’s quite rare that there’s an angel With power on the earth, whose ways are kind Where righteousness leads people into joy, That earth might be for all a happy home. But Jesus said this world was not his home, His followers would suffer many wrongs. They’d learn to look inside for lasting joy. And for our growth this trial of time God made. Though often God’s plan doesn’t feel so kind. Yet He has promised each a guardian angel. Though Jesus did not call upon his angel To save him when he’d left his heavenly home. He trusted that his Father’s plan was kind, And that He would eventually right the wrongs That come upon us all. For we were made To bear the earthly image first. What joy Shall fill us as we drink of heaven’s joy And join the ecstasy known to the angels. It was for joy that everything was made. Our Father plans to bring us safely home, To wash away all pain and tears and wrongs We have endured. And we shall be a kind Of heavenly being. Each seed begets its kind. In Father’s house there is eternal joy, For nothing vile can enter – and no wrongs Shall ever hurt us there. We shall be angels who sing forever in our heavenly home. It was for love and joy that we were made. For joy we have been made lower than angels, But only in this temporal earthly home. The wrongs we suffer shall teach us what is kind. Barbara Godwin Member Posts: 161 From: Registered: Feb 2008 posted April 29, 2008 12:29 AM Sorry you had a headache. I like yours a lot better than mine. Barbara Jan D. Hodge Member Posts: 735 From:Sioux City, IA Registered: Mar 2001 posted April 29, 2008 09:35 AM ... [This message has been edited by Jan D. Hodge (edited May 09, 2008).] Frank Hubeny Member Posts: 349 From:Illinois, USA Registered: Sep 2004 posted April 29, 2008 05:29 PM quote: Originally posted by Jan D. Hodge: ......Is woman languid if she’s but midwest lively, ......or midwest man divorced from all things wise ......and beautiful? Nice lines! Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006 posted April 29, 2008 08:13 PM quote: Dear Exuberant Divorced Worldly Woman, Jan, Are you talking to me?! Kidding. Thanks for sharing this. I'm convinced for sure that I don't like writing sestinas. I much prefer letting others write them! Hope you had a nice vacation. And thank you for sending the lovely poetry cards - they're beautiful, and that was so kind of you. Okay, whose going to write the next sestina? For my part, I'm leaving that up to my double/twin. Cheers! Anne Jan D. Hodge Member Posts: 735 From:Sioux City, IA Registered: Mar 2001 posted April 29, 2008 10:23 PM Mark Strand solved the "problem" of the sestina by writing his in prose. See his "Chekhov: A Sestina" in The Continuous Life. Anne Bryant-Hamon Member Posts: 1151 From:Lynn Haven, FL, U.S. Registered: Dec 2006