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topacio Aug 2021
there are some things
that are just written in ink.
the books that line my shelf
the music I play with my fingers
the startling waves I attempt to hurdle
my surfboard over
the recipe my abuelita passed down to
me of her famous tamales
my subscription to Bon Appetit
these constants anchoring me
when characters sketched by
pencil become too faint to feel,
its these delicate yet sturdy constants
that yank me out of sadness
with a "remember me?!"
with a "remember your abilities, young lady!"
"remember your divine calling to perpetually grow!"
r m Jul 2017
the speed of a falling raindrop
is 32 feet per second
it's something constant
i have read about
at the science section
of a worn down daily.

given different conditions
and cloud forms from nimbus
to cumulonimbus
or if there even exist heavier,
darker, sulkier clouds,
then it will remain the same.

raindrops will drop at that speed
like the way cherry blossoms
fall at 5 centimeters per second
as identified by Shinkai
accompanied by that sad story,
sad love song and sad vibrant colors.

i have always expressed
adoration at constants
starting at elementary algebra
when miss hernandez introduced
the concept of non changing
ever the same values
unaffected things
like pi or the gravitional pull
or even the speed of light itself.

i always get to thinking
if constant hearts ever exist
or if it does, for how long?
ever changing had been
a major human quality
so is inconsistence
a constant in the human heart?

the anatomy of a constant heart
is a favorite mind palace of mine
i wander at the highest floor
taking my time to build up what would be
the ideal constancy and perfection to me
a woman of digits, numbers and measures

a paradox of consistent inconsistencies
wrapped around every pumping chamber
smooth muscles embracing the equation
like dialogues of yes's and no's
between tissues and muscles and blood
a focus group discussion of conflicting parallels
my poems are also at wattpad, in the poetry collection titled wild heart.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/114674948-wild-heart
an online digital collection will be available at issuu on october 2017
Buddy T Mar 2017
what a pretty sky
on a pretty day
not a cloud in the sky  
the sun beams down

a single cloud
on a pretty day
alone
the sun beams down

perhaps I am the cloud
alone by myself
never surrounded by peers
a spot of paint

perhaps you are the sun
with me
pulling me up
hugging me

the universe turns
with you
orbiting a centerpiece
we can't name

a lone cloud
on a pretty day
no other in the sky
the sun beams down

another cloud apears
no more loners
in the sky
the sun beams down

perhaps you are the sun
and I am the cloud
how do you feel
I am not with you

the universe turns
you tear me apart
we grow big
you grow dark

rain in the sky
on a windy day
so many cloud in the sky
no sun beams

perhaps I am the clouds
and you are the sun
I move on
you continue to turn

a pretty sky
on a pretty day
no cloud in the sky
the sun beams down

the sun beams on
the universe turns
the sun beams on
the sun beams
it was a pretty day today
Buddy T Dec 2016
Things will start
and things will end,
but the world will continue to turn.
For there's always spring after winter
and winter will come again.

And even as our days on earth shorten
and we love our loves no more.
The days on the calendar will continue to fall,
and we will move on
and we will continue to live.

And even when our laughs seem to stop time,
and this moment doesn't seem to end.
The clock on the wall will continue to tick.
And our hearts will continue to beat,
until death.

But it's funny!
Even after death
and birth
and love
and hate, all in our hearts,

the sun will continue to rise.
And the world will turn
and the stars will shine
and the seasons will change
and our child's play will never change our constants.
because even when things start and things end, the world will keep spinning and the sun will still rise
Val Chavez Jun 2015
There’s something vital about constants.

To have that solid foundation to grasp on to when you feel as if you’re going to fall.
To be able to fall onto something rather than plunge into the void.

But I feel as if I was built on an impulse, unplanned, more of an experiment.
i can't write today. i haven't been able to do anything lately.

— The End —