"the frozen wavescape of circumference undefined."

This blancmange of dusk—of melted coral lights
has tugged the softest from the heaviest of heights.

Its face the color of yearning—cast down as mine.

Barely grazed round the head I must be bound inside
the verge again—between what now may be moving
and what has immovably since

the frozen wavescape of circumference undefined.

I’ve been wanting to be touched by a light
such as this, but even urge when satisfied
really quells nothing much—just like
a tender eye lightly daubed in steady brine;

a song I play with passion that never will be mine;

the way I shuffle them, without one
to settle on; the silence that I usually find—
the kind that settles none.

Twilight shows me faint—the wait being time

we pine for clear desire—beyond this lacquered  
veneer of sky—vaguely painting fire.

"in search of that brassy circumference"
Kate W 

cobwebbed coffee mind, my cacophonous current,
oh, rusty heart you have played too long,
again to fall down the rabbit hole
in search of that brassy circumference
that governs your life and every breath that escapes your lips
propelled into the deep, dilation of your synaptic being.

"to a Eurydice (circumference)."

Via some somnambulant halfway
house of mind and body...
the chin kisses both shoulder
blades as an owl's head three
hundred and sixty degrees deep
to impale a center.
Crepuscular to the degree of
abridging an Orpheus (center)
to a Eurydice (circumference).

"As big as the earth’s circumference with the tiniest touches the blooming d"
Hal Loyd Denton 


Under all skies you need an umbrella made from perennial flowers that can block cruel rays and in
Stormy weather they become a colorful shield arrayed as a ghost army standing on a hill the colors
Of their banners are richly flowing they reach out over the former battle field in the valley a solemnity
Is carried to lofty heights revering the fallen honoring those who stand and await the next call to
Sacrifice this is your awareness under your slight canopy of blushing colors blues at the center are deep
And rich that suggest deep springs as you retrieve this bucket and it sloshes out over the side the closer
It gets to the surface the blue lightens to sky blue at the tips wondrous calm it delivers with a pulsating
Surging that invigorates the whole being of a sojourner without map and compass you tread to the
Beyond where you will find designs and integrity that is sweeping and bold a bag of tricks left by
Mother Nature when she was the lone interior decorator of earth’s natural places she received her
Genius from the same one that gave flowers their fragrance everything holds sun light delicately some is
Lighting others is for splitting light into light and shadow creating just the right effect a soothe that is
As big as the earth’s circumference with the tiniest touches the blooming draws the burnished brown
Sand from desert stores to the sheer grey granite mountain’s alluring views across vistas to the blue  
Great waters shores an earthy child an her mother has just strolled through the comforts of your mind
And soul just a slight gust of wind to stir you to wonder about the blessing that are all around even in
The mix of life’s woes you are told you are loved and have a future flowers rain clouds sunshine they
Are just part of a promise largely told so you can walk with lions bold and shake off the tremble and
strain that sometimes arise out of a fallen world

"of a sonata around the circumference of the doorknob"
Allison Rose 

I loved the idea of a symphony captured on an easel
spelled out in shades squeezed out of tubes like the
horizontal expansion of a note dispersed in air but
soon I found that the canvas was too small to contain
the notes of the score and so I began to paint them
on the side of the easel itself and down the legs of
the frame onto the floor and once on the floor across
the entire length of the room and up the frame of the
door and spiraling around until I was writing the notes
of a sonata around the circumference of the doorknob
and painting tiny key signatures on the barrel of the
lock and soon I ran out of paint but there was still so
much music in me so I started to spell out the notes
with my finger until even the air in the room was
covered with notes and I inhaled the melodies and
they swirled around so the symphony could be plucked
out among the fibers inside of me and resonate in my
empty cavities filling me from the inside out with song…

"Circumference of me"
Liam Lost 

I walk between buildings
Dreams of an architect
Now selling copy machines
Quietly, collectively thinking
What if I just keep walking?
No hurry, just moving
Completely disconnected
From everything
Not in a 30 yard
Circumference of me
Dumping all the useless data
In my file cabinet brain
Down the side of my leg
Onto a sidewalk with brown grass
Growing between the cracks
Maybe another 100 yards or so
It will be wiped clean
Like a hotel room
Awaiting the 2pm check in
Now collecting smells and smiles
Eye color and styles
Of various dresses and shoes
Tasting with brand new buds
Ones that connect directly to my heart
Fueling me with passion for salt water taffy
The blue kind
Keeping my mouth and mind busy
While my legs take my body on a journey
Where things typically in the background
Arrive in the foreground
Till there is no background
My files were deleted a few blocks back
Near the coffee shop that smelled
Like 1985

"perfect shape of a quadrant’s circumference, endlessly,"

queer creature of white stone:
the spirit of the island in the head of this lion,
the soul of the natives in the body of this fish,
spirit and soul, lion and fish, mingle together by
mere wry humour of evolution’s word

we revere this beast, (it watches over us
from nine metres above), we bow down our backs,
(worship it as our exemplar): for many of us,
unknowingly, we emulate the spirit and soul
of this queer white creation of stone.

standing tall (unshaken!) even as jaundice bolts of heaven’s
creep tip-toed behind its scales and strike:
its cemented steadfastness of stone we emulate,
for through the towering grey waves of crisis, and
the threatening dark clouds that foretell our very fears,
we too, have floated and transcended and appeared

mutated monster – child of bad genes,
they despise such unfavourable antagonistic features
(shall it rule like a lion or flail like a fish?):
its unlikeliness of surviving, of thriving we emulate:
for this dotted smudge of red pen ink on the globe,
destined to bow down to fate – bowed down not, and

beams of white water spouting out in a
perfect shape of a quadrant’s circumference, endlessly,
its majestic spewing action we emulate:
this island of expectations, sterile smell of success,
fate of our future in the setting of an exam hall,
(in there do you not think we resemble the merlion,
our mouths the hoses, the papers our well?)

but, oh, the merlion – so many of it –
the merlions, same-maned, same-scaled,
fluttering and bursting with imitation across our home:
such congruity, conformity we emulate:
for years of yearning to swim in the mainstream waters,
of being goldfish, instead of losing the waters for flight like flying fish,
have made us very much, about
the same.

queer creature of white stone:
do you see not how we resemble your very self,
how we offer you praise (by
lifting our human arms, arching on our mere knees,
hoisting our lowly mortal heads, surveying your colossal royalty,
camera in hand)?

I tried as wittily as possible to draw comparisons to reveal how one of our national icons are eerily reflective of the Singapore culture in many ways. This touristy icon almost seemed pre-planned to capture the essence of what Singapore is.
"the jaded circumference of banality;"
WS Warner 

Verdant eyes, translucent pearls
speak in silent witness,
wounds unfurl
meaning revealed,
interrupted girl.
Safe in solidarity
prolific eccentricity,
the scandal of particularity.
Pouting mouth
grief - filled lips
alluring, set sail a thousand ships;
tempt me to leave harbor.

Arousing euphoria as such,
resistance, amity and distance
amour sans touch
her sense of humor transcends,
appeasing the mind’s thirst
a vogue sultana,
seasoned swagger
hair resplendent flame,
alternating cool, black
asymmetrical coiffure;
nonconforming demure
the renegade metaphor -
singular for sure, no cure.

Muted vanity, bathos piercing
the jaded circumference of banality;
pale protagonist servitude
the sapient palaver of the urbane,
covered patina of pretense,
induced coercion,
the commodity self
appearing abased
wearing lesions of lassitude.
Artistic chattel - eminent domain
preempting genius,
subsidiary of consuming narcissism
external locus of control;
surrender to the tentative,
fettered pendant, Venus in chains
arrested visionary bane
sterile savant, edifice of pain.

The soubrette, dubious incarnation
gravid ingénue of prevarication
imperceptible venue -
theatre of the absurd;
withdrawn siren,
solitude of necessity -
skin - slender veil of shame,
nearness loitering redemption;
moments envisage
the appointment with the soul;
ambiguity eschews clarity
awareness; ineluctable anxiety,
imago - centric confession
sacred pardon, seraphic venation
intravenous textures presume,
the tactile margins of liberty.

Therapeutic retrieval,
beneath the portico of
Your smile I hear,
recovered autonomy
blessed emancipation,
The scandal of particularity;
peculiar treasure
ironically captured
film, canvas,
prose profundity.

Ciphering as an ambling book,
I peruse you,
rendered captive
hypnotic avant-garde fiction,
spectator of denuded opacity
analogous reflection, I Mirror you.
A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative,
forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative,
the scandal of particularity -
resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity
Love, imagination and destiny.

©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner

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