"affine" poems - Hello Poetry

We all have inner and outer lives. They’re messy, hopelessly intertwined, and more than mere mannequins to hang our word-art upon. I’m supported, in my unwritten life, by a structure of moods, both affine and counter-expressive. I’m, in turns, a tightly wound vagabond, an over-busy, fretful, unhappy liar (for what I will not share) and a happy, truthful mess (for what I may overshare). My outer-life is largely academic, and turned with complete absorption to task, I plow thru the needed assignments, like a caffeine fueled machine, You might rightly call outer-me boring. I get it, for nothing much happens beyond study and life’s usual maintenances. But my inner-life is full of action, if desires, dreams, and internally ranting against the injustices of youthful separations can be rightly called actions. Of my boyfriend, the world contains not one parallel. He overshadows the few others I’ve ever known. His masculine elements turn me all the way up, He knows my petty vanities and most of my weaknesses. If he doesn’t know my every phase of feeling, or every desire of my love starved soul, it’s because our love is peripatetic. Most of the year, we’re a long distance, digital, practical nothingness, A near autofictional anticipation. We are separated by a sea and more. If I may simply put it, I have a fine young body that is going to waste. When I complained to my older sister, a surgeon who long delayed her own personal life for her career, she shruggingly and unsympathetically said, “You only have to suffer a few more years.” “Oh, mon Dieu!” I replied. . . positions by Ariana Grande [E] 34+35 (Remix) by [feat. Doja Cat & Megan Thee Stallion] [E]

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Jun 17, 2025

Jun 17, 2025 at 11:11 PM UTC

anaisvionet

inner and outer

We all have inner and outer lives. They’re messy, hopelessly intertwined, and more than mere mannequins to hang our word-art upon. I’m supported, in my unwritten life, by a structure of moods, both affine and counter-expressive. I’m, in turns, a tightly wound vagabond, an over-busy, fretful, unhappy liar (for what I will not share) and a happy, truthful mess (for what I may overshare). My outer-life is largely academic, and turned with complete absorption to task, I plow thru the needed assignments, like a caffeine fueled machine, You might rightly call outer-me boring. I get it, for nothing much happens beyond study and life’s usual maintenances. But my inner-life is full of action, if desires, dreams, and internally ranting against the injustices of youthful separations can be rightly called actions. Of my boyfriend, the world contains not one parallel. He overshadows the few others I’ve ever known. His masculine elements turn me all the way up, He knows my petty vanities and most of my weaknesses. If he doesn’t know my every phase of feeling, or every desire of my love starved soul, it’s because our love is peripatetic. Most of the year, we’re a long distance, digital, practical nothingness, A near autofictional anticipation. We are separated by a sea and more. If I may simply put it, I have a fine young body that is going to waste. When I complained to my older sister, a surgeon who long delayed her own personal life for her career, she shruggingly and unsympathetically said, “You only have to suffer a few more years.” “Oh, mon Dieu!” I replied. . . positions by Ariana Grande [E] 34+35 (Remix) by [feat. Doja Cat & Megan Thee Stallion] [E]

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residue, she switches like clean plastic circuits under my fingernails. two minutes breaking down, all it took. even moving parts from afar seem placid. could've sworn i heard just one of your heartbeats. could've sworn i was underwater at one or another point i'll become lack- lustre and you can change your mind. no trace of blame. long after this fact you'll still be a recurring theme on the back of my palm as skin shifts in colourless hues inside sleep. no matter which hand i write with, your name looks the same. shines. i bide motion, sit still, as the earth revolves around something new.

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May 22, 2014

May 22, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC

tom-mccone

affine

residue, she switches like clean plastic circuits under my fingernails. two minutes breaking down, all it took. even moving parts from afar seem placid. could've sworn i heard just one of your heartbeats. could've sworn i was underwater at one or another point i'll become lack- lustre and you can change your mind. no trace of blame. long after this fact you'll still be a recurring theme on the back of my palm as skin shifts in colourless hues inside sleep. no matter which hand i write with, your name looks the same. shines. i bide motion, sit still, as the earth revolves around something new.

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Let love be like affine geometry. Affine geometry is where mathematical properties are preserved by parallel projection from one plane to another. These planes are our complexities residing in our individualism, together we will survive this mutualism. Let it be symbiotic and not symbolic. Let the odds be even, even if you have to zero in on the odds. Let the triangles of emotions be isosceles ( having 2 sides of equal length), the base will adjust. Let the circle of emotions be complete, let it end gracefully if it has to. Let it reach its starting point and let it be a full circle. You be a semi - circle, I will be another. Together we will complete the circle. From the centre, the axis of life will pass, sometimes the inclination will change, it will bend, life will adjust somehow but we will prevail. Let the patterns of your life camouflage mine. Let the eccentricities of your randomness be a little more constant and the variables of human nature will adjust. Let us both try to solve this equation. Let us try to prove it to be = and not less than < or >. Let us both be one equation, equally split in parts and meaning less without being equal. Let us be rational and not irrational. Let us be reciprocative and not repetitive. Let us be simple but not complex or even simpler. Let us be Mathematics.

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Jul 15, 2020

Jul 15, 2020 at 7:30 AM UTC

Mirror

Love is Mathematics.

Let love be like affine geometry. Affine geometry is where mathematical properties are preserved by parallel projection from one plane to another. These planes are our complexities residing in our individualism, together we will survive this mutualism. Let it be symbiotic and not symbolic. Let the odds be even, even if you have to zero in on the odds. Let the triangles of emotions be isosceles ( having 2 sides of equal length), the base will adjust. Let the circle of emotions be complete, let it end gracefully if it has to. Let it reach its starting point and let it be a full circle. You be a semi - circle, I will be another. Together we will complete the circle. From the centre, the axis of life will pass, sometimes the inclination will change, it will bend, life will adjust somehow but we will prevail. Let the patterns of your life camouflage mine. Let the eccentricities of your randomness be a little more constant and the variables of human nature will adjust. Let us both try to solve this equation. Let us try to prove it to be = and not less than < or >. Let us both be one equation, equally split in parts and meaning less without being equal. Let us be rational and not irrational. Let us be reciprocative and not repetitive. Let us be simple but not complex or even simpler. Let us be Mathematics.

15

Brûle aux yeux des femmes, Mais garde ton coeur Et crains la langueur Des épithalames. Bois pour oublier ! L'eau-de-vie est une Qui porte la lune Dans son tablier. L'injure des hommes, Qu'est-ce que ça fait ? Va, notre coeur sait Seul ce que nous sommes. Ce que nous valons Notre sang le chante ! L'épine méchante Te mord aux talons ? Le vent taquin ose Te gifler souvent ? Chante dans le vent Et cueille la rose ! Va, tout est au mieux Dans ce monde pire ! Surtout laisse dire, Surtout sois joyeux D'être une victime A ces pauvres gens : Les dieux indulgents Ont aimé ton crime ! Tu refleuriras Dans un élysée ! Ame méprisée, Tu rayonneras ! Tu n'es pas de celles Qu'un coup du Destin Dissipe soudain En mille étincelles. Métal dur et clair, Chaque coup t'affine En arme divine Pour un dessein fier. Arrière la forge ! Et tu vas frémir, Vibrer et jouir Au poing de saint George Et de saint Michel, Dans des gloires calmes, Au vent pur des palmes, Sur l'aile du ciel !... C'est d'être un sourire Au milieu des pleurs, C'est d'être des fleurs Au champ du martyre, C'est d'être le feu Qui dort dans la pierre, C'est d'être en prière, C'est d'attendre un peu !

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465

Paul Verlaine

Conseil falot

Brûle aux yeux des femmes, Mais garde ton coeur Et crains la langueur Des épithalames. Bois pour oublier ! L'eau-de-vie est une Qui porte la lune Dans son tablier. L'injure des hommes, Qu'est-ce que ça fait ? Va, notre coeur sait Seul ce que nous sommes. Ce que nous valons Notre sang le chante ! L'épine méchante Te mord aux talons ? Le vent taquin ose Te gifler souvent ? Chante dans le vent Et cueille la rose ! Va, tout est au mieux Dans ce monde pire ! Surtout laisse dire, Surtout sois joyeux D'être une victime A ces pauvres gens : Les dieux indulgents Ont aimé ton crime ! Tu refleuriras Dans un élysée ! Ame méprisée, Tu rayonneras ! Tu n'es pas de celles Qu'un coup du Destin Dissipe soudain En mille étincelles. Métal dur et clair, Chaque coup t'affine En arme divine Pour un dessein fier. Arrière la forge ! Et tu vas frémir, Vibrer et jouir Au poing de saint George Et de saint Michel, Dans des gloires calmes, Au vent pur des palmes, Sur l'aile du ciel !... C'est d'être un sourire Au milieu des pleurs, C'est d'être des fleurs Au champ du martyre, C'est d'être le feu Qui dort dans la pierre, C'est d'être en prière, C'est d'attendre un peu !

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