"squaring" poems
Every atom is lenient towards the human being
streaming up from the deep root they spur
laying down the perfect descending of the stars.
They can take on the stellar in their deep club
that shows up opening the windows up in the sky
and down on to the earth cast their eyes!
The slim fit sharp atom knows all the shortcuts
constantly vibrating not a single star can catch nor will it ever
thin out – it has the extraordinary stroke of luck.
But the eyes are on the humans not over the amber.
Dreaming to be physically absorbed within the human being
to be in the human’s divine proportion ever transcendental
a far cry from the sun and the moon but with it both gel together!
Once they came so close almost touched the dream
they rose to the occasion, squaring the circle,
laser scanning through, as above so below, so humble.
Submitted them without waxing lyrical took the brush off
the colour bowl of the day then blindfolding the moon
in the night reached out to the paragon of the phi mania,
flawlessly made to measure, numerically perfect Fathima!
Presented themselves before her as pure blank
whereon she can jot like her chalkboard
or do as she please like she could show up
taking it as her shadow in silhouette, she exactly did that.
Touched down on the earth, in the veil
and revealed her as above so below.
The ocean moved stirred the water but none saw the sunshine
behind the full moon in bloom that steals the starry night.
Day in day out Fathima did all in a veil she lived and gone.
Keeping the atom on its toe ever honing tracing the footprint
in its own shadow as once a human being without a mark
crept in it lived in pi magic and leaped out!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
Hold it with nothing
only behold with the eyes!
Lo, this crescent Moon:
The heaven's smile in the night!
It’s the discovery made
walking down the black moon.
Without a light in the sight
as if walking blindfolded
but didn't go into the blue.
Took a trip into the matrix
without squaring the circle.
With no pattern, no more decimals of pi
undefined by design but found the Moon!
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
Without a rope but
squaring the circle
the giant man gives it a try
takes a flight off to the sky
only to fall flat on the ground.
She turns around
gives the circle her pi.
He bounces back
and retakes the flight
Que Sera, Sera on the way!
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
Located in the prime location
Precisely at the right spot.
Squaring up the square
Laid to measure on the map.
Equal each side a cube stands
Aligned to the column
brimful every inch.
What now? ‘Looking for a margin,
Wide margin in the solid core.’
Like a human wants to turn up here
From every corner every nook.
The star splashes into its constellation
Like the sun and the moon
Love to wrap around here
Through the fastest route!
What now? ‘Everyone wants a margin
Wide margin where it matters all
It couldn’t be more brimful.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
thoughts fall
with structure and symmetry....
as if whole your life
have been drawn using a compass
words break in acute angles....
retracing it back to me
everywhere i turn,
i end up nearing the vertex
failing infinite times by
squaring the circles...
still i cant stop my clumsy thoughts...
ellipsing my mind....
finding order in the chaos
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
i miss the dogfight
of our teeth squaring off
in a shiny mirror.
you could call our canines
moon kernels or portents,
but the sentiment
is sharper. the poem
tautology to a bracelet
of crescent dents.
self-portrait: light
shadow, shadow, light.
a plane reflecting
other planes, an edge
biting an edge, biting
an edge, bitten.
the bracelet tautology
to a skyline sans sky,
one wedge of evening
held in your periphery.
i press my fingers
into a warm glass throat.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
'A triangle on the mount of mercury
is certainly an auspicious sign'
Thumping percussion of a native beat
in my head, a gyrating hindsight
The evening streams down pouring
streaks of grey and mangled orange
Walking past a bicycle chained to railings
front wheel mangled into a rough square
Squaring a circle, huh? How did that happen?
two thumps and a sonant beat...and again...
I see you sipping latte by Nero.
Mangled, stream out of your eyes
many coloured triangles
rushing, wheeling at me.
Vibrant beat, gyrating bottoms.
The mercury is soaring. Ululations.
The night-witch has charmed the city in her cloak.
Stars, oh, I see mangled triangles out of her hat.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Investment Principles:
Staying the course,
your owned love
will not fail you
~~~~
Staying the course means going against your own emotions at times.
when weeping is easier than squaring the jaw, gritting teeth
Staying the course means thinking and acting for the long term even when it doesn’t feel right in the short-term.
*lost loving, when the other walks away, and being brave is
the only path, brace, and excise that stooped shoulder, stand straight!*
Staying the course means preparing not predicting.
*predict only that hope is eternal, perpetual and maybe, just,
around the corner*
Stay the course means doing nothing when that’s what your plan calls for.
~~~
steady the breathing,
ok, now! wipe the tears,
be resolved that once tasted,
love, is human, though inimitable,
and your sunrises will return inevitable
and the return on investment unbelievable
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 8:30 AM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
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?
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
One, A solitary number,
So alone, all by itself,
but one day, without notice,
came another one to help,
And when they were together,
just whenever, they were two,
I like to think that I'm one,
and the other one is you,
Our feelings like a plus sign,
With them we add up,
Hope we never get divided,
Even when the math get tough,
No matter the equation,
(Situation) You'll be mine,
and even during Algebra,
I know that we'll be fine,
I used to be so odd,
Until you turned me even,
Now I'm always happy,
and you're the only reason,
I love being with you and friends,
like 3.1415,
He's always such a character,
and always brings us Pi,
I try to be your hero,
and sometimes I break the rules,
like dividing things by zero,
but that just makes us look like fools,
You make my smile rise,
and to you'll ill always run,
No matter how big the slope,
If you call me I will come,
While I was squaring A,
and you were busy squaring B,
We didn't notice C squared,
was the answer, you and me,
Of me you'll always have a part,
with out you I'm a fraction,
No word problems or numbers,
can ever solve this strong attraction,
I hope no other one,
will ever be half of your two,
because the only correct answer,
is if you add up me and you!
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
Beer bellies in sun,
Green grass in a fast circle
Squaring like trailers.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
Above all monsters that linger in the dark.
Love is one that can take many shapes and forms.
A tug of the bed spread or the seal of closet doors.
No matter how tight they are pressed.
Still it finds a way to seep through.
Waiting to take you by the arm the very moment your eyes start to close.
Reminding you of that one thought you keep suppressed of all things.
Keeping you awake for just a moment longer.
Eyes that long for a deep sleep.
Peering over a sea of fabric.
The ***** of an arrow digging into an unexpected feeling.
Climbing from beneath the bed or the crack of the closet.
Reminding you of the thing you somewhat regret. With the one person you can't seem to stop thinking about.
That cupid, appearing with a sly grin.
Dressed as the boogie man, blending into shadows, dark red loafers.
Just as your moseying off to sleep.
There he stands, squaring his shoulders.
Remembering all the late night trips you took to the fridge.
Who would have took cupid as a gymnast. Hiding here or there.
Or a health nut that despises anything outside of strawberry hearts
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
I'm standing on a square.
A metre each way, a square
If I move I'll fall off this square
is squaring me up, squinting at me
Learning it has power over me
This square is all I am
This square is scaring me.
I think it's made of wood, a wooden square
Solid yet creaking this wooden square
rotting beneath me, a square
that snares me, spares me the fall I'd have without it
This square stares at me.
I know every part of this, this square
it squeaks this square, at me this square
I have walked to all it's corners but this square that squared me up and squawked at me, squealed and stammered under my feet
It became my home,
this square
that ensnared me, still stares at me but continues to spare me
is starting to show me,
At least now I know where I stand.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Standing on the edge of the world
Wind rushing through my hair
I lift up my arms
And cry out to the emptiness before me
The nothingness calls back
My name carried on the breeze
A blatant reminder of the humanity I’ve left far behind
One step further is all it would take
To leave the familiar for good
To fall endlessly into the lonely abyss
Turning a cold shoulder
Closing my eyes
I make my move
One great leap
The blackness consumes me
Swallows me whole
The wind picks back up
A spins me around
I open my eyes
Only to find
I’m sitting on that ledge
Legs swinging in the breeze
Squaring my shoulders
Back facing the wind
I let out a sigh
And a shout of frustration
The world refuses still to let me go
So here I remain
Conscious and pensive
Waiting for my moment
Biding my time.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
after looking in on how
Jen's selections were faring
they indicated that they'd
be very nicely squaring
was pleasing to see
most of them reaching
the front cover's face
only the odd one
was put in another
compartment's space
it so gladdened Jen
when her options
got colossal views
she has a consistency
in this area which make
for better reviews
those pieces she's
given a re-showing
are set to be bathed
with a bright glowing
oh yes dear Jen
can't be beat
on choosing
something real neat
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
“It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”
― Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
I aim my camera at the cage
wondering where the challenge ran off to
as the creature stands helplessly
like a lightweight squaring off against a circling heavyweight
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Would you be the Lard then,
The Lard o' these lands ?
<The Lard !!!
I ain't the Lard of anything!
I'm the Laird of these lands, yes!
If that's what you mean.>
The Laird, eh!
So there's no Duck or Duchess over
them then.
<Duck! You mean Duke, no Duke or
Duchess !!!
Ain't no Dooks or Dutchesses around
here Mon! >
Then what about the Goose,
The Goose of Gainly Hall.
<The Goose!!! What Goose ?
It's a ghost not a goose,
The Ghost of Gainly Hall !
Only goose I can see around here is
you
Begone you unruly Mon, Begone!>
Unruly Mon is it ! Unruly Mon !!!
(squaring up to the Laird)
...Heh! I'll nay fight ye, yer not worth it
The Big Lairdy Mon
I'll go off and alight some place else
Just like the Goose, the Goose of Gainly
Hall !!!
............Hey Big Mon!!! The Goose! He's
loose!! He's gone!!!
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
whirl, whirr, whee,
'round, back again --
squaring loops slinging hoops
wandering
why
stay
on the
hill tonight
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
I stand. Surrounded by the darkness
That I create.
I wave it away.
It hovers out of reach.
Close enough to been seen,
Far enough away to relax.
Fear, doubt, anxiety.
Fear, clawing.
Doubt, with sharp teeth.
Anxiety, with its insect touch.
And lord of all, depression,
With his dark cloak ready
To blot out the light.
Squaring shoulders.
Narrowing of eyes.
I stand, drawing a sword of light,
Names engraved on the blade.
They give me strength.
The ones that depend on me to
Never quit, never submit, never stop.
And yet, no matter how the fight ends
I stand.
They stand. We stare at each other.
Stalemate.
For now.
I will never quit.
Nor will they. They are part of me.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
After a lifetime spent
Bent
On rounding off the corners
Of any square thought
Has brought
Me... Full circle
So many times
I'm beginning to see winning as an abstract
A pathogen
Getting stronger
As if the the efforts I produce
The patient's I'm rewarded with
As I have achieved success
Like penicillin
Only has a limited lifespan
And an exponential inconsequential Failure rate
That soon begins to insulate
As the mutated corners
Become mutant appendages
As they grow back
Not abstract
Simply as a fact
There just seems to me
That too many people
Just want to be dragged along
Creating heat sparks and friction
Like an addiction
Instead of letting it all roll
And it's taking a toll
On the faith
In my soul
Knowing that a lifetime
Bent on rounding off the corners
Of any square thought
Has brought me.. .
.... full circle
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
Sophia closed
the front door
of her parents' house
after seeing Benedict
go off home.
Her father was in the lounge
sitting crossed legged
in his armchair.
Her mother was clearing
the table in silence.
You were a long time
seeing him off,
her father said in Polish.
Sophia looked
at her father
as she passed him by
to sit on the sofa,
just saying goodnight,
she replied in Polish.
It takes that long
to say goodnight?
Just a last few words
and a kiss,
she said.
In my day
we just say goodnight,
a kiss,
then off to leave
the young girl
to be home,
he said.
His features
were stiff,
unsmiling.
He doesn't know
our ways,
she said,
sitting down
on the sofa.
Then he must learn,
if he is to continue
going with you,
the father said,
squaring his shoulders.
I will tell him,
she said,
thinking of the moment
she and Benedict
had made love
in her bed the last time,
how she loved it,
him there
making her feel
so fulfilled
at the same time
fearing the parents
might return any moment
from the dinner dance
of the Polish families
in the area.
If not,
I will speak to him,
her father said
like some
Mafia godfather.
Yes father,
I will tell him,
she said,
seeing Benedict
standing naked
by the bed,
and she lying there
open to him,
and so warm
and so hot.
He has gone?
her mother said
coming into the lounge
from the kitchen
clearing the last items
from the table.
Yes he has gone,
the father said.
Her mother looked
at Sophia:
I don't understand
a word he say,
the mother said,
does he not
speak any Polish?
No he doesn't,
Sophia said,
(only a few swear words
she had taught him
which made him laugh.)
He come again?
The mother asked
the father.
Yes if he learn
our ways,
the father said.
Sophia smiled weakly,
thinking of Benedict
that time in her parents' bed,
beneath the crucifix
on the wall,
and she saying:
more more.
He will learn,
she said,
looking at
her father's slippers,
she going red.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
I twirled with the
Devil to watch
You get jealous
And
With his final
Bow I knew we
Had finally learned
To Dance
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC