"symmetric" poems
Its just a fantasy the only regret is permanence,
The life of a modern day gypsy, an unknown destination.
I wake up to new faces from past day's bruises,
A long journey into some town, exploring the unknown.
Green sanctum reflecting the temple top,
Woken up by the gong of the ancient metals.
Treated like a royal guest, offered a lot of the harvest,
Walking down the symmetric coconut grooves.
I see vessels carrying newest of the goods,
But here they still stick to their roots.
True its a gods own country, abundant beauty,
I'm lost amidst the hills sipping the Malabar coffee.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
a Gestalt principle
of organization
holding that there is an innate tendency
to perceive incomplete objects as complete
and to close
or fill gaps
and to perceive asymmetric stimuli
as symmetric
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
I've always been confused
by media's personifications of Life.
*A beautiful woman
whose skin is flawless
whose face is symmetric
who has no faults*
She, Life, is perfect and clean.
How life truly is not
A depiction of Life I give you now,
one not so perfect as She before.
Skin and features of many
taking in the best and worst.
A being who is strong and weak
visibly ill while being well.
A being who is beautiful in it's -u-g-l-i-n-e-s-s-
or rather,
a being who is beautiful in it's uniqueness.
A being who is not perfect,
but strives to be.
A being who is not commonly pretty,
but true to the mixture of
Pain and Sorrow
with
Ease and Joy.
Now I am sure you depict
Life a different way.
But how truthful all these depictions are
for life is different to everyone.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Anything you said is consequent to other declamation .
but i thought is symmetric to our own reflection .
our declaring prelude the inmost extend of our action .
with all but grim and glee of necessary life partition .
learn how to hold your tongue or you may dull your mission .
so let our thought have weight upon any of our every eruption .
cause morrow Sophist will dart light upon all our conclusion .
and for our name's sake let the blaze glow to its fullest elevation .
here and there ; nothing but cheap hick town pluck delusion .
phenomenon to blame and frail wont reach at any situation .
side-long-way , matter of rear pie but notwithstanding altercation .
the sage nut is not the one that proffers at all event ; citations .
but measure with all time honored a thought irreversible as motion .
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Run rotten, for things have gotten out of hand.
Turn coat ducking, torture got him singing and eating outta my hand.
Getting scraped by the beater like youse a percussion instrument;
maybe that’s why a group of people are called a band?
For we all play our part to either be an influence or to be influenced.
Yet we won’t know anything if you never venture into the forest and meet the temptress.
When one experiences all six senses, when in present tenses, which then puts the body through stresses.
That makes the mind flood with guesses that clouds up our lenses.
But that’s just what war is like for one is always in the trenches.
Whilst other’s sit on benches, but each choice brings rewards and consequences.
Which bears questions on what your quest is?
To run free or to be held back by white picket fences?
For being hard pressed brings out either killers or medics.
To choose to be real or synthetic.
To become abstract or symmetric.
However, things aren’t always so metric.
So be wary of being a critique for just like branches of mathematics in arithmetic,
We have many great qualities but when in a group we can become manipulated.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
Symmetry faceless or otherwise
colorful or
drab. Equality is sin
struggle is peace with people
Cynically and worldly impossible
No prejudice, no illness
Well prejudice is illness, and humans are death
The propaganda vaccinations donated by our governments daily, monthly, yearly
Not antiestablishment
anti-chikanery
not anti-symmetric
anti-whitewash
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
Mystery girl, let me make an ansatz about you:
You are like an anti-gravity wave -
the farther I go, the more I pine for you.
Some kind of growing exponent:
yes, you are the solution I ignore in my
quotidian root-finding mission;
Ah, the annihilation, those killer eyes!
Now I see, we inhabit orthogonal planes.
Your uv, to my uw, you are IR to my ivy.
Wonder-woman, let me make an ansatz about you:
You are elegance. Ripple-play at pebbles,
those dimpled cheeks.
Deliciously symmetric. Alpha 180, no Beta
at all - well not Cartesian.
Guess it's subterranean, Artesian,
in the k-space, transform domain,
my mind-space, where, girl,
you are a wonder of beauty and grace.
Magicienne, let me make an Ansatz about you:
You are the particle for Love waves. A lovelet.
Dressed in that kaftan when you walk in,
I will sublimate. Ether-maker, you solve
the Hamiltonian, I see now how matter's made.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
Symmetric shapes of forms unchanging,
their wings beat as one to turn-
An angle to encompass the dry sun
of which lights sable days.
But human minds, are no different.
Though each politically independent:
Believing of truths and Free; We
are guided by inhibition and the
need for clarity.
Circling the damp waters, they do not ask,
they tell-The river reflecting that of
an illusory image: It tells none but reveals all.
We cannot fly and though cement cannot reflect:
In our faces, we mirror actions and recollections.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
2 years of separation
leads to reunions & dissections
of the shared heart we once betrayed
split symmetric down the chamber veins
& drained into a vacant maze
of muscle-coated misdirection:
from a gory war of self-destruction
to a boring morning-long discussion
on the proper functions of affection,
a lecture on the subtle pressure
of stitching missing years together.
so we descended through the memories
of manipulation tendencies
& our blended lungs breathed in relief
at our splendid self-discovery:
you're a different you & i'm no longer me;
thick skin grafts & habit transplants
transformed us to an image abstract
from a former siamese attachment,
our blurry split from commitment
carried independence infinite
& we soared more weightless through the clouds
with our orphaned organs on the ground
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 6:41 AM UTC
Arms flesh spirals rocketing
Climbing bursting over through cloudsspace dust particles
Explosive birth
Coronas starlights fast
Grasped in the black
Clasped together
In the sparkling
Universe
Oneness symmetric
A glimpse
Oh my love,
Heaven.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
Amid the white notebooks dotting my desk
hides a half-drawn sketch
laying down some image of an ideal poem.
It sits incomplete, but the plans I made
surface to my vision—
a sturdy poem of stubborn build,
words, pliant, sad, and simple
deft-attached, vine-like wrapped
around bamboo scaffolds astride black steel framing.
Dangling from two pinched fingers,
the sketch has yet to display
its mid-sized trees (for scale)
and the few more floors envisioned.
It could house with ease
a teeming, drunken mass
of patients with a fear of heights
and post-traumatic stress.
The burn of my popped lighter
curves over the paper plane where the grassy lot’s drawn,
where my hired architect would stand
and plan the façade, no windows.
His blueprints would radiate the math
of symmetric perfection
found symbolic of its New-Age form.
Designers would be flown in
from around the world,
contractors would be called.
And the sheer simplicity of it all
would test their expertise
challenged at last by the spire and final stanza
which, if drawn, would only now
be caught up by the flame
casually ribboned across the page.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 8:32 AM UTC
Flying with cut wrists
Above the color of a surrogate self
Osiris Son of Earth and Heaven
I suddenly feel the warm red viscous liquid
Slowly it seeps out furtively at first
Then with more determination
Down my arm across my right hand, across my left
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip
I can sense it congealed on my head where my hands have been
Clinging to me not wishing to leave
My face is caressed by crimson fingers as a lover would
My eyes, ears, nose, mouth, neck
It seems to roam over me looking for a home
Trickling across my lips it offers, no dares me to taste
Teasing me, but my mouth cannot respond
Lips now matched against the scarlet
A growing blue in comparison, colour mix
Form a new symmetric sapphiric jewel
I feel rushing air as off a great wind
Bright white lights curiously dance above me
Invite me to join them
Colours speed past
Drab, dreary colours green, grey
Then suddenly a veil is laid upon me
All is black
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
Fishing for impudence
looking outside,
all seem so murky
with a dying light,
all seem so monochrome,
with a condescending benight.
Now I am looking closely
and all that I found,
was a hatred very symmetric,
to which I am bound.
Just like the voids
I see in myself,
maybe my lens is too murky,
or my windows blacked out,
but life is miserable
and I see it around.
I often try to deny,
and live like everything’s fine,
but some feelings never settle,
some actions don’t suffice.
I look for answers around
I look for meanings behind,
maybe it’s a different me,
or maybe it’s the defeated mind.
Thoughts never to settle,
when I write sometimes,
but facing your fears,
through the words you write
is more difficult than accepting the light.
I often try to view this,
in a stupidly optimistic hue,
thinking like a flower
proud of its scent and bloom.
Thinking I am unique and
so might be my issues,
but I don’t want to look around
cause inside I know,
I am part of the million others
that bloomed and withered in this garden too.
My problems don’t amount
to the privileges I own,
and pain might be puny
when compared to yours,
but I still get hurt,
even if my problems aren’t new,
I still want to say them,
even when my words are few.
Nov 8, 2021
Nov 8, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
What happens when,
the light from the stars fades away?
What happens when,
the twines once taut fray?
What happens when,
a longing,
once together,
becomes alone?
When indifference, like bleach,
scratches and,
tears,
grinds and,
flairs,
destroys what was,
devours what's theirs.
When all is symmetric,
white as a bone.
What happens then?
why,
now,
do I feel alone.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
We fall deeper and deeper, as if in a trance,
your love increases exponentially.
There is no expression to compare to your love.
You are the constant in the equation to life,
forever intersecting secret thoughts.
There is no expression to compare to your love.
The pleasant addition of you to my life's function,
seeing the symmetric feelings we have
There is no expression to compare to your love.
You and I have not one extraneous solution;
your range of affection is infinite.
There is no expression to compare to your love.
You are my denominator, my stability;
you take the inverse of all that is bad.
There is no expression to compare to your love.
When I attempt to evaluate your rationale,
I find your devotion can't be measured.
There is no expression to compare to your love.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I hope always for the best
And since I keep the suitable status
Of every single objects so I, in return,
Want that the human in me would get the same...
At least I hope so but you know, my wise
Fellow readers, I got some personal experiences
Of being unfairly exploited, unjustly treated
But I didn’t deserve it really for I have a third eye...
The universal law of motion
And emotion is not equal, not symmetric
I came to know then rather in some cases,
I deserve the priority to express and establish my ideas...
but there I failed to do so poorly, with sure blockades
The promising Socrates had left this world
In that very unwanted manner being in the darkness
Philosophers might be surprised, “Oh, really....!”
I will say then, yes my dear friend,
The idea givers for the best for the mankind,
Are the proud and the golden sons of Socrates.
I think I am also one of those happy brothers...
For I also wish to render my fruitful and positive ideas
For the best of our community and for our countrymen.
I am ever ready to die, to die a first death only
But one foremost thing I must not leave is the ‘truth’....
I really love the truth, the beauty of the universe,
The fragrance of flower garden, the waves of seas;
The frozen ice on the mountains, spring through the valleys
I dare not to deny these after million times death....
I’m in fair love with these, are the expression of my lord
Whom I care until my last breath & forever in any dimension.
But this must be some test of my lord to make me real solid gold
Out of the heavy mixed ugly ore under the rocks so hard...
My lord, give me your warm shelter, right pathways
So that I could bear the extreme heat and freezing cold
Of this polluted & ignorant world so sleepy, so dark
As it moves so slow, as it turns around blindly
Save me until I die and protect me onward...
© 2015 Mohammad Anwar Parvez Shishir
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
in the slow heaving of late
afternoons you
distill into columns, dusty
salmon painting mock
gold mirrors
under
the crowded blue, paling,
as
fragments tear
roll,
together, apart,
amidst
your
symmetric relationships, opening up
in
to
wings, in every direction, and
you
tear
my
head
right in half
sitting on the sky
doing all this nothing
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 4:05 AM UTC
Swing along to melodies,
these resemble galaxies,
some are like we,
clusters of stars.
melting along the lazy river,
flowing along the edges of light,
if it seemed to feel right,
traveled on and on,
for nights of mindless flight,
sprawling the great expanse
in symmetric dance.
the whole lives of stars waiting for a single day.
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
Singular
Multi-angular
Of divine dimensions
Second to none
Autonomous anatomy
Fanatic fantasy
Symmetric synthesis
Baffling beauty
Calibrated celebrity
Decoded dress décor
Ornate as if to incarnate
Breathless breathtaking body
Exuberant exterior
Envisaged visage crystal clear
Natural curvature
Done with intricate care
Exquisite lovely carving
Touched etched inch by inch
Exhibit chronicle of caliber
Inquisitive audience
Craving for radiance
Static statue
Dynamics of art
Ecstatic spectacle
The living example
Of the astounding sculpture
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
We wanted each other
But at different times
There was love to be shared
Between each other
Instead we opted
For different kind of
Symmetric relationship
We hurt each other
But at different times
There was pain to be shared
Between each other
Hah
Hah hah
Hah hah hah hah
Weep now.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
Singular
Multi-angular
Of divine dimensions
Second to none
Autonomous anatomy
Fanatic fantasy
Symmetric synthesis
Baffling beauty
Calibrated celebrity
Decoded dress décor
Ornate as if to incarnate
Breathless breathtaking body
Exuberant exterior
Envisaged visage crystal clear
Natural curvature
Done with intricate care
Exquisite lovely carving
Touched etched inch by inch
Exhibit chronicle of caliber
Inquisitive audience
Craving for radiance
Static statue
Dynamics of art
Ecstatic spectacle
The living example
Of the astounding sculpture
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
Come to me my love... within a gentle touch. There is so much that we can be; just the two of us; alone placed high upon a mountain - drinking from life's youthful fountain.
Come to me my friend... for I alone cannot defend, a heart that without you can mend; a stint of sorrow and struggling cries: a blank page to fill such lullabies...
Come to me my warm embrace.... shelter me with your symmetric grace. Take from me what you will; if you forget to ask-be obliged to steal.
In this world of entropy there are no rules: no boundaries to cross;
no bitter fools, no deceitful words, no coins we should need to toss.
Abound in shadow the light refracts, to give such a blessed glow:
A glimmer of pure perfection that is held and placed high upon your brow.
Your laughter rings with ripened cheer, the softest waves that echo through my ear; there is much joy portrayed in your eyes;
the bluest of blue; the colour of skies....
You see... I sit alone... Stand alone... Lie alone....
Right now, you are nothing more than a brief fantasy; in some distant allured synchronicity.
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
Singular
Multi-angular
Of divine dimensions
Second to none
Autonomous anatomy
Fanatic fantasy
Symmetric synthesis
Baffling beauty
Calibrated celebrity
Decoded dress décor
Ornate as if to incarnate
Breathless breathtaking body
Exuberant exterior
Envisaged visage crystal clear
Natural curvature
Done with intricate care
Exquisite lovely carving
Touched etched inch by inch
Exhibit chronicle of caliber
Inquisitive audience
Craving for radiance
Static statue
Dynamics of art
Ecstatic spectacle
The living example
Of the astounding sculpture
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC