Best Octagon Poems
After our not so delicious meal, we started home
He turned onto our usual well-worn road
Headed west where we bumped across raised railroad tracks
There at the octagon shaped stop sign turned northwest
Feeling sated and situated on the road home
Home where the old weak heart resides
Home where comfy cotton clothes are worn
Home where feet are adorned with thong sandals
It is at least forty-five minute drive
Through rural Georgia with flourishing farmland
Verdant pastures next to many neat old homeplaces
Ones we see at least three times a month
Today something different caught our old tired eyes
A golden-yellow field but also a deep, pine green
Both of these old people wondered aloud
What is that growing over there?
With each passing second, we drew closer
Our old eyes began to grasp the beauty
The grace, symmetry of this four acre field
It was sunflowers, glorious sunflowers
I told my husband to turn onto the closer county road
Go onto a road less traveled by us and many
On that country road not well-traveled
Stood sunflowers, somewhat drooped on a cloudy day
However, that is not all of the story
I don't know if I have free versed enough
Should I go on?
Maybe save the rest for another day?
A hexagon, a hexagon, you have to be a hexagon.
You say you are a pentagon?
What use have I for pentagon?
You’re too close to the White House lawn!
So you’re a base to stand upon?
This isn’t baseball, Pentagon.
You silly polygon, be gone!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are a nonagon.
A nonagon? What good are YOU?
A coin perhaps, from Timbuktu??
You’re nothing, nonagon. Come on!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are a decagon.
I guess you think you are a star.
I don’t need someone quite so far
up in the heavens where you are.
I need, instead, a hexagon.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
You say you are an octagon.
You’ve got some versatility!
A mirror, tiles, candles too.
They all can be the shape of you.
But on the streets I always see
your sign. It makes me have to stop.
I do not think you are for me!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
A triangle you’ve now become?
A simple flag? Three-sided crumb?
I know that as an instrument
you are not much! I find you dumb.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
A rectangle you try to be
and now a square. You don’t fool me!
I find you oh so ordinary.
Crackers or Monopoly,
or crossword puzzles I don’t need
and Sponge Bob – yep – that’s “square” indeed!
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon!
And so you are a circle now?
you’ve got no point, you “walking round in circles” cow.
A hexagon, a hexagon. You have to be a hexagon.
I want those feathered flakes of snow
with crystals of six sides to show.
I need the shape of many eyes
that see more colors than we know -
the eyes of flitting dragonflies!
I need the carbon chain of DNA
and pretty patterns on the shell
of tortoises. Okay, okay!
You are a hexagon, you say?
Come let me have a taste. Don’t tease!
You are the honeycomb of bees!
So sweet you are; you are my *salve.
I now have got a hexagon;
you're now the thing I had to have!
*In American English: salve uses silent l and rhymes with have.
Sept 15, 2019 For Nina Parmenter's "Welcome to My Random World" Contest
A is for algebra, where numbers are represented by letters
B is for base, a base ten number system is much better
C is for circle, it goes round and round
D is for degree, in a circle, 360 are found
E is for equation, an assertion of the equality of two expressions
F is for fraction, it's the ratio of two expressions
G is for graph, a diagram showing the relationship betwen two numbers
H is for hypotenuse, a triangle's longest side, easy to remember
I is for integer, positive or negative numbers that are whole
J is for justification, proof of a solution, so I'm told
K is for kilometer, that's almost a mile
L is for line, it has one dimension and can go on for a while
M is for median, the most common value in a group
N is for numerator, its the top number in a fraction, like a hoop
O is for octagon, the number of sides are eight
P is for pentagon, it has five sides and that's great
Q is for quotient, the result of a division
R is for ratio, the relationship between two expressions
S is for square, with equal sides of four
T is for triangle, it has three sides, no more
U is for unit, a standardized quantity
V is for volume, the quantity of a three dimensional entity
W is for whole number of which there are a lot
X is for x- axis, the horizontal axis for coordinates , a plot
Y is for y- axis, the vertical axis a coordinate system brings
Z is for zero , it's not even one thing
We talked about fractions. circles, and squares
Next, we'll explore lions, tigers, and bears
Big Sur Jade Cabochon
Broken from off underwater cliffs
Slowly pushed by tides and currents
Found by me during a low tide
While searching along Jade Cove
In Los Padres National Forest
Cut into quarter to half-inch slabs
The cut again into an octagon
The octagon grinds down to an oval
A flat surface down to concave
Grounded first with coarse wheels
Then again with finer wheels
Buffed and polished to a high sheen
With powdered sapphires
A new Big Sur Jade Cabochon
Elemental dissonance
Poly-plated string guess
Depressive spine edge
Identity description cubed
Waterfalls negative score
Abyssal language drops
Hole numeral planification
Horizontal ship oval dust
Sea’s sloped gravitational
Octagon growth
Lack of facts and matter
Undertone course kaleidoscope
Particular perimeter blast
Empty can tomatoes
Protostar geometric syndrome
Indifferent neurotransmission
Necrotic wavelength voice
Breakfast experience lost
[Stone…stone…stone…stone…]
I took a ride on the other side
of a wide ocean and wilder skies
People spoke there
In languages unknown to us
Only two of us are in our mother tongue
That night I really travelled, too, far
And never thought of retracing back
I did not ask myself anything
With excitement, I kept walking
On the beautiful oceanic waves
Though I lost my returning track.
Yet I did not mind
Then the waves went really high
And we rushed into a building
It was octagon in shape
And was very clean
Ten feet wide
And long was thirteen feet
Then the dykes of confusion broke
And I understood why we were there
In an island where we were complete strangers
Among the unknowns
We two are only together.
I could not believe
Around us the air could be crisp
And the sky could be wide and blue
And would fall upon us
With a sound drip, drip
Yet I feared something could go wrong
And we might have to face an unexpected worse.
What it would be like
if nobody was impressed or phased by
Then I felt a strong jerk followed by an earthquake.
And my dream journey is over
And I silently woke up
Though I did not sleep
Since then been searching my wallet
Containing my identity card
On the rough soil of this hard world
And in the harsh reality of real life
After silently walking off the oceanic waves.
the streets are scarred for good and we know it
after the hits of untamed hearts
after this abstract damage of cyclic returnings
there's a window in my chest
a sight of iron garden and crystal steam
where colour of poplars recalls
moss in the living room
and her veins in the dark
the skies are striped of equinox sabbath
over the cities full of empty people
cities full of mannequins
over the valleys of sordid poppies
perfumed mists and magnetic trees
as my shoes walk around the moonlit woods
through cobblestone plains, by mythic fields
the war of kisses rages in gravel pits
on days like these
these octagon days
and there's a storm in the kitchen sink
there's debris for dinner
the orchestra of germs in a room of dahlia
invokes all the nymphomaniac angels
all air rats and arachnid armies
with passion of cold-blooded lovers
oh, what a circus!
that's why my luggage is haunted
in floodlands, ready to depart
for the taxidermy heaven
for I'm the king of the sandcastle
just a smoke child on a paper planet
with glass floors and concrete shoes
and yellow lorries in umbrella lakes
with my brain lantern and pet mallacoderm
the rabid rooster will guide my way
down the bronze boulevard
with chocolate six-shooter in my hand
only because the streets are scarred by our love
and we know it
When I was younger, I have often wondered
Why is the eighth month not called October?
Was geometry wrong
When it named the octagon,
Or was this a mistake wrought by the calendar?
'Augustus' seemed such an ugly name too
It sounded like someone who has the flu
Plus, I've always had this pet
From a childish pang of regret
That my birthstone's colour wasn't blue
Oh, would it be that I was born a month late
To be a ‘child of autumn’ seemed so great
Instead, it's been quite a bummer
To have birthdays in hot summer
Though I suppose Mom and Dad just couldn't wait!
But, in recent years, I've changed my tune
About being born on the eighth moon
For there is so much fame
Behind this august name
My date of birth is now to me a welcome boon
For while the man whose name this month honours
Might not possess July's fame and splendour
He satisfied the Romans' wish
To implement an age of peace
And so the legacy of his reign is forever revered
The strength he lacked he made up in understanding:
Roman men saw repugnant the title of "king"
So he knew to bide his time
And rose the ranks in slow inclines
To not repeat his predecessor's death by stabbing!
He knew too well that he could not climb alone
Delegation was key for his path towards the throne
Dealing right to win the race
A mastermind masked with modest grace
Always walking with one foot set upon the gravestone
I do not believe that stars dictate our destiny
But there is much to learn from their history
By giving August a retrospect
I have grown profound respect
For this bleak yet beautiful, immutable part of me
Compressed predator instincts
Exist in the most primitive dimension
Textile complex of nerves
Mixture of nebulas and herbs
Blinking imperfect echoes
Is it a crop of static points?
Yet there’s no sign of growth
No sprouting into a G minor code
A multi-fingered park
For a suicide octagon roll?
Most probably
Horde of wormholes on the wall
Dementia brought cheese mentality
Expose your paper gestures
And fold
Extreme fisherman-frontal jump
Into the scribbled reflections of
A starving point
You and yours
don’t like me and mine
Me and mine
don’t like you and yours
What my people do,
your people don’t flag approve
What your people say,
my people yawn at insomnia news
When I give a disgruntled voice,
you say turn off the ethnic noise
If you make a joyous jingle decree,
I say
your happy don’t trickle down to me
It’s evident,
we both live in a free-for-all society
Everybody gets an invitation to the heathen Dance,
Philistine-style equality ... courting fisticuff romance
Dancing on the edge of conflict everyday,
how is it
that our women still don’t have much say?
War’s gon spark from the lowest nether parts:
Deceit and distrust,
evil mixed twins with infidelity stillborn hearts
Let’s dance to the rhythm of the rage,
stepping into the ballroom octagon cage
Dancing on the edge of apocalyptic destruction,
trump the building of more H-bomb construction
But the truth of the matter is,
everybody wanna get down dirty and personal
Post a big social media Fight Club billing,
do a lot of verbal hype: cyber viral killing
Pull your dance partner oh so closer than close,
see the sweat of adrenalin dripping nose to nose
There be a lot of debate clenching in the tribal corners,
below-the-belt
sound-byte blows delivered to the etiquette mourners
And the tired, shuffling ... dissonant, protest-laced feet
keeps moving nearer to the edge
Falling together over the cliff in self-proclaimed victory,
having empty smiles on faces dead
Me and mine
better start making peace
with you and yours
Recognizing your people’s
painfully fragile glass jaw ruling ego
You and yours
better start seeking affinity
with me and mine
Understanding my people’s
delicate servile eyes are swollen closed
Can you make an obtuse plight
spherical right,
can you square the circle?
Do you scalene sleight get it,
can you rectangular height dig it?
If rainbow arc so,
then you better
circular karma glow get with it
You sho’ adjacent betta
golden rule live it
Righteous turns
get bless additions
On a four wheel spin
of goodwill fortune
Where U end
is where you were newly
meant to begin
Square the circle:
Be an acute downpour uprooter,
have a perpendicular pulse purpose
Make a pure honeycomb ascension drip-spill
into a hexagonal cuppa love abundantly filled
No feint flatlines gon get
any divine vector flight time
A spiritual incline soar
on a celestial circumference tour
Do you in deed isosceles need
some radius thought wave more,
are you pi parallel peep sure?
Don’t be a triangle head dummy,
filled with octagon notions —
Racked with void e-motions
For the cue ball life of thee,
square the circle —
Or firmament-ly, forever be cry roundly ignored
Do you wanna go
curvature cradle ride empty?
Then let not the circle
be root squared improperly
Have a concentric life story ()()() next-gen hope inspiring
Lest your grail soul unilaterally be
permanently removed from the spiral quest board
I OPENED A DOOR
IN THE UNIVERSE ,
THAT DOESN'T EXIST ,
AND NEVER EXISTED.
I FOUND MYSELF STANDING ,
IN THE OCTAGON ,
OF THE IMAGINATION.
UNDERSTANDING THAT
IMAGINATION IS ESSENTIAL ,
TO UNLEASHING OUR TRUE
POTENTIAL , I UNLEASHED
MY CURIOSITY OF IMAGINATION
IN EVERY DIRECTION.
IN SEARCH OF WISDOM
AND KNOWLEDGE.
UNDERSTANDING
I AM NOT THE FATHER
OF SOLIPSISM.
I AM NOT THE CENTER
OF THE UNIVERSE NOR AM I
THE CREATOR.
IF THE ABILITY TO THINK
IS A MENTAL ABILITY ,
THE INABILITY TO THINK
BECOMES A MENTAL DISABILITY.
IF IMAGINATION IS THE SIMPLEST
FORM OF THINKING ,
THE INABILITY TO IMAGINE
MAKING A DECISION
WITHOUT THINKING FIRST ,
IS NO DIFFERENT
THAN THE INABILITY TO THINK.
CONFORMITY IS NOT
THINKING FOR YOURSELF.
IT'S ALLOWING OTHERS
TO THINK FOR YOU.
AS IF YOU DO NOT HAVE
THE ABILITY TO THINK
FOR YOURSELF.
SO THE REAL DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN THE SO CALLED
HAVES AND THE HAVE NOTS ,
GOES BEYOND THE
BARRICADES OF IMAGINATION
WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT.
BEWARE THE IMAGINATION
DISGUISED AS FANTASY
LIVING A LIFE OF VISUALIZATION
IN A REALITY THAT DOES NOT
EXIST.
Michael E. Harris
03222022
Here comes a word,
A word that cuts as a sword,
You could have heard it’s foreword,
From a songbird or a ladybird,
But I renew your memory,
Of the rocks in our eyes.
I will whisper, mime or even shout,
If this will bring attention,
Prevention and intervention,
Of this hurting, pinching rock,
Preventing the shutting of eyelid,
For the rock is in the eye.
The monster is taking shapes,
octagon,
Will take you for a marathon,
Not in Babylon but imaginary,
Building unseen houses and castles,
For the rock remains in the eyes.
They press it through the blood,
And power press it by the nose,
Sink it down the belly by mouth
In the hope of rising and firing,
But bears so much detention,
For the rock is still in their eyes.
The pain becomes unbearable,
Tears are flowing freely,
Eyes are shutting truly,
Ooh! Lives are surely ending,
And desperation is now showing,
For the rocks are in the eyes.
Some will end on streets,
Roaming with insanity,
Many will return to infancy,
Mind, speech and deeds,
Others bed partners in jail,
For the rocks are in their eyes.
I will sing a song of desperation,
For the song of joy is gone,
I will lament with no comment,
For the lives that are destroyed,
Man and future squashed,
By the rock that is in the eye.
We all stand accused,
And amused by the situation,
Let’s all get attached,
To save the situation,
We all are getting worried,
By the rock in our eyes.
Dear listener, is there hope?
Will Mary, Stacy and Tracy perish?
No! No! No! We all are afflicted,
But will never ever be defeated,
We will all take positions,
To remove the rock in the eye.
(A gangster rap)
Yo, on the corner, where the street meets fate,
Unsupervised stop sign, tempting fate,
In the hood's wild west, where rules bend,
That stop sign stands alone, a silent trend.
No law, no authority, it's a lawless land,
But that sign, it's a symbol, taking a stand,
In the chaos of the streets, it holds its ground,
A rebel, a silent voice, all around.
Cars zoomin' by, ignorance in the air,
But that stop sign's there, it doesn't care,
Red octagon, a warning ignored,
In the streets of rebellion, it's adored.
It's like me, in this life of sin,
Breakin' the rules, but I aim to win,
Unsupervised, yet standin' tall,
Against the odds, I'm destined to brawl.
That stop sign's a metaphor, a symbol of might,
In a world so dark, it shines a light,
Unnoticed, unguarded, but it persists,
Like a gangster's resilience, it exists.
I roll through the streets, like a renegade,
With the spirit of that stop sign, never afraid,
In this concrete jungle, where chaos thrives,
I'm the unsupervised rebel, on the rise.
I took a ride on the other side
of a wide Ocean and wilder skies
People spoke in different language
Only two of us are of our mother tongue
That night I really traveled, too, far
And never thought of retracing back
Until I missed my identity
Out of my jacket pocket.
I did not ask myself nor did I mind
With excitement I kept walking
On the beautiful oceanic waves
Losing my return track.
Then the waves rose really high
We rushed into a building
Octagon in shape and very clean
Ten feet wide thirteen feet long
Then the dykes of confusion broke
And I understood why we were there
So far in an island totally stranger
Among the unknowns we, two, together
I could not believe there, too,
Around us the air could be crisp
And the sky could be wide and blue
Falling upon us with a sound drip, drip
The musical drops of rain from a divine cloud.
Yet I feared something could go wrong
And might have to face unexpected worse
What, if nobody was impressed or phased by
Then I felt a strong jerk followed by an earthquake.
The dream was over and I silently woke up
Since then I have been searching my identity and wallet.
On the rough soil of hard world and harsh reality
After silently walking off the oceanic waves