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"diameters" poems
In this trigonometric love equation You're my arcsin, You're my special angle, Secretly placed In that unit circle of feelings. You may arrange my major arcs and diameters Inside of it Perfectly triangular, Love will always have The same ratio pi. Our equation of love Is seemingly incompatible. It has philosophical numbers becoming Common geometric shapes Of love itself Like hidden spheres In triangles, But in real terms of graphing Our parallel lines of life Went on forever not crossing at any point Of this imperfect world. Our love is, in fact, A complex system of equations With the same set of three unknowns Searching their own values It has a narrative statement. You're my C. You're mister C, From c'telzing From caleptikide And from cataguerrillaism, In this beautiful madness of love. You know, our love is getting old In concentric circles, Those circles of time. Extrapolate it to infinity, sweetheart, You may be my semi-infinity Until the end of the time, That semi-infinity, In which I lose myself From time to time Each time coming From the same unique star As that already existent In an old Romanian novel, Which is called Lorelei.
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Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
An Impossible Math
When we get to play together, we have ropes around our necks, and as dogs those ropes are tied to the poles; however, we’ve placed those poles and tied those ropes, hoisting the noose around each other’s necks. How long are we to go on like this before we run beyond our diameters and end our lives as we know them, change the knot so that our play won’t be lethal, or slip off what bounds us and run together free?
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Infidelity
Yet a tiny fraction, there is so much more Such a prominent universe to explore Numerous galaxies, planets and stars Orbiting the Sun above just like Mars Saturn has a ring, others have a moon Planets filled with gas like a hot balloon Travelling in light years, so far away Yet our solar system is a vast array Looking through my telescope, planets to see Looking out for Jupiter and Mercury There is icy Pluto further from the Sun My curious journey has just begun The strong pull of gravity, keeping into place The days, months and years, yet moving at a pace Fascinating satellites, informative machine Launching of the space crafts, places never seen If I were an astronaut, how would I feel? Adapting to space food, a dried and sealed meal Travelling on mission, in the atmosphere Witnessing diameters that I can but revere On that day however, was my teacher playing tricks Looking through the glasses, viewing the eclipse Yet the Milky Way has a spiral twist Looking from our planet, where current life exists Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
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Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
The Wonders of Space
My Radius    Mine distance 'tween the center of mine       and my edges ('cause I am not exactly            spherical, Varies, I guess) The differences divided           by a varying circumference diameters changing       makes it SO hard to divide the pi squaring it   (or trying to multiply by zero) Makes absolutely zero sense             poses more questions than geometry or algebra, (far as I know, might be a constant, somewheres) the I = me? trigonometrical nonsense?
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
Radii
802 Time feels so vast that were it not For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity— To His exclusion, who prepare By Processes of Size For the Stupendous Vision Of his diameters—
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1.6k
Time feels so vast that were it not
I caught my eyes in the gold-flecked mirror And paused to trace the diameters. What should have appeared nearer Developed its own parameters. I paused to trace the diameters, And discovered the golden flakes Developed their own parameters And coalesced opaque. Upon discovery, the golden flakes Formed a cloud inside my iris And coalesced opaque, A golden plague or virus. A cloud formed inside my iris And obstructed the view of the sun. A golden plague or virus Traipsing like a legion. Clouds obstructed my view of the sun So night seemed to stretch beyond Traipsing across the horizon like a legion And elicited in me a muted response.
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Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 1:31 PM UTC
Moment of Waking
There is a rain, rimy rivulets ripping The canvas of air; how is it I can breathe When glass sinks with the setting sun – An eye afire, I can’t stand the look of it, Burning the sky like a charcoal It’s pale, it’s blind, it’s alone – Until all that remains are clouds Made of cotton ***** and floss. Only giants may clean their teeth properly. Tree bark shines with the rain, Contemptuous, wretched water Fit to feed our Belladonna, Meant only for our Madonna – Why I fear you a mystery Lost to the shivering trees and me. Green is drowning, I relish its fade From my face, bloated and white Like the shining, terrible moon, sitting alone Alone to weep wistfully, pathetically Until she fills the burns with leaking Stars flooding barren hillcrests – It’s what I’ve always told myself. It’s all I know. Careful now, the sidewalks hold mirrors, It wouldn’t do to crack one with a fearful foot – No, no, let their diameters grow… It’s not as if I’ll see myself if I bothered to look.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
Rain
Speckling drops, of bathwater- lovely evening rain. Patter melodically against my open window frame. The water touches me not, for my roof with gutters and onings. But the dewy breeze saturates my room like my face to an ocean breeze. Mother Waters, send her daughters to my window this spring night singing. Distant puddle patterning ploops, diameters mass expanses on the suburban streets. The trees, the smile as they absorb the moisture their brittle bones need. Oh how I pitied the trees, when the cold stripped and broke their branches my heart grew sorrowful & weak. The deserve to be enveloped, by this unplanned storm. All in the world, would agree when I say that we are blessed with this warm April rain
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
(mer)Maid in Waiting
The first day we arrived you gave us all a piece of faded yellow rope "Keep this on your person at all times" Day in, day out Alpine butterfly (Secure the canoe so it won't fall off the trailer) Reef, figure eight (Simple stuff, multipurpose; the kids do this) Sheet bend (Connect two ropes with different diameters) Double fisherman (Kept it around my ankle so it wouldn't get lost) But thank god That the last knot I tied Before I left Was the one I was best at Bowline (Attached my heart to the sailing docks)
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Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Tied Down
Why this house? This house that walks without frame? Only air strides circumventing the dome. The permeable atmosphere flows freely shaking water down my arms, pulp by pulp, fragment by fragment, consolations for tippling music streaming in the ears. Blowing arias – intone of regret, or the loss of beautiful things. Preferring silence over sanguine narratives. How are we to assuage yearning? I heard someone say, “The ideal is unattainable.” – strange, holding the small of one’s back and lament the narrow ends of the world. Strange the flight of birds, the hum of buses past Quezon City. It would drone that you do not know her – and that she is never somebody else’s – that is dearth consoled. Your palm indents delineate not fate but the steady distances of things close to contact, eluding tragedies. Why this house, and why you? I have no blueprint of your home. I know not what festoons the balustrades. Your rue for the absence of a balcony. A panel over earthenware I suppose, or partitions to separate dreams from stilled things impaled to the wall. I presume there are photographs of you in every corner to remind you of your gathered storms. I know not the smell of your home, but I have your nameless fragrance on my shirt wedged, ambulating with me through the halls of where I chase moments like cirrus stirring in a somersault of summer. Make use of bowls with evening water and flush the specter down like how you would, cold water into throat from a night of weeping. Somewhere there, the China will remind me of your elliptical face in the intensity of leaving. Your eyes the windows for birds humming a music I do not hear. I have been to too many neighborhoods, I have seen unfinished structures foretold by obliged scaffolds holding together a would-be home. Why this house? There are only shadows intimate on the floor. The sudden burst of impossibilities watered down, attenuated by piercing glances through the thickest of nights black with remorse. The palpable silence gyrates and the diameters of the world are too close to break in sidereal circles. Why this house? Because you are in it, and outside, through the thick quietude, underneath the paling moonlight, you pretend you see nobody.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Untitled
Why this house? This house that walks without frame? Only air strides circumventing the dome. The permeable atmosphere flows freely shaking water down my arms, pulp by pulp, fragment by fragment, consolations for tippling music streaming in the ears. Blowing arias – intone of regret, or the loss of beautiful things. Preferring silence over sanguine narratives. How are we to assuage yearning? I heard someone say, “The ideal is unattainable.” – strange, holding the small of one’s back and lament the narrow ends of the world. Strange the flight of birds, the hum of buses past Quezon City. It would drone that you do not know her – and that she is never somebody else’s – that is dearth consoled. Your palm indents delineate not fate but the steady distances of things close to contact, eluding tragedies. Why this house, and why you? I have no blueprint of your home. I know not what festoons the balustrades. Your rue for the absence of a balcony. A panel over earthenware I suppose, or partitions to separate dreams from stilled things impaled to the wall. I presume there are photographs of you in every corner to remind you of your gathered storms. I know not the smell of your home, but I have your nameless fragrance on my shirt wedged, ambulating with me through the halls of where I chase moments like cirrus stirring in a somersault of summer. Make use of bowls with evening water and flush the specter down like how you would, cold water into throat from a night of weeping. Somewhere there, the China will remind me of your elliptical face in the intensity of leaving. Your eyes the windows for birds humming a music I do not hear. I have been to too many neighborhoods, I have seen unfinished structures foretold by obliged scaffolds holding together a would-be home. Why this house? There are only shadows intimate on the floor. The sudden burst of impossibilities watered down, attenuated by piercing glances through the thickest of nights black with remorse. The palpable silence gyrates and the diameters of the world are too close to break in sidereal circles. Why this house? Because you are in it, and outside, through the thick quietude, underneath the paling moonlight, you pretend you see nobody.
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As the skies go filled with darkness; You are always stucked on my mind. Thinking of a love that is ruthless, Yet, a love that is surely one of a kind. Can you help me, Zeus?, The strongest God from above. Because I don't wanna lose, In a battle called "love". Can you help me, Cupid? This may sound stupid, But I just want to hold your hand Until the blazing time when you're gone. Can you help me, Eta Carinae? I just want to witness your rays; Or to have just one dance, Or maybe just to meet you even once. Those dazzling eyes of yours, My strength and energy source. You make my heart skip a beat, And my night complete. I haven't met you, I never did and I will never got the chance. Because you always leave without any clue, On how am I supposed to take some glance. All I want is to see your smile, To hear your laugh, And to witness how you shine. But I can't. Midnight time setting us apart, Time that keeps on breaking my heart. Why can't you just be mine? And just let our hearts intertwine. I keep on wishing that I will meet you, Or even just reach you. Million of diameters between us, Keeping you and me as anonymous. Thoughts that maybe you're not the one, But please stay beside me, Mr. Sun.
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Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
unsent letter by the moon
***standard tunes on the radio the gramophones are outdated so dust off your duvet covers and dance naked for the daily words are kept frozen in ice cube trays spray my hands with cinnamon and honey your rose water sprinkles my nose and i feel a hundred years younger than that old toad sweep out the dining rooms and follow the relics of the mind in my time of loving i will find a way to say i’m sorry you combine memory with meaning like stethoscopes trying to cope with our swollen diameters growing up is all about coming to terms with our petty personalities and demeanor nootropes in the new tropics some are similar to the old radishes codes and secret handshakes shape the lakeside attractions of parks and fairgrounds as the storm rages beneath our stereos***
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Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
nootropes in the tropics