Hyperbolic Poems | Examples

Premium Member Love's Black Hole

Am I talking to you my friend
or the younger me, in the end?
You feel that you need her, 
and you know you must have her.
While I am of a different mind,
you'd say I'm insensitive and blind.
I'd say it's you blinded by love
falsely attributed to the One above.
Your life is under your control.
You don't need her to be made whole. 
You say that you are sure but, 
you're trapped into her orbit. 
So, whatever you and I may say,
it's Newton's laws that rule the day.
Her power over you is diabolic.
Your orbit should be hyperbolic,
but you're headed for love's black hole.
You're dedicated, heart and soul.
Atoms on a ship without a rudder
try to stick like peanuts ground to butter.
You'll be torn up and rejected,
and, ultimately, will be ejected.
She'll rearrange your molecules,
but it's been done to lesser fools.

Premium Member Superstitions Aloysius

    I once knew a man named Aloysius
    Hyperbolic as hell, superstitious
       He avoided black cats
       And ladders without slats
    He seemed to me frankly quite judicious

Premium Member Poetry and Math

I find delight in poetry and math.
I like to follow intuition's path.
In the beginning, I pick up a scent.
In the end, no one knows what I meant.

There is more to life than meets the eye.
Nature's beauty makes us wonder why.
In math and poetry, I can explore
To find creation's essence and its core.

The symmetry found within a flower
Wields a seductive, enchanting power.
A mathematician or a poet
Makes his sacred goal to truly know it.

Fibonacci's sequence expressed in plants,
Pythagorean tuning, Gregorian chants,
Hyperbolic orbits, traced celestially
Have no need for poetic hyperbole. 
 
Life can be a puzzle or mystery.
This poet/math student's eyes try to see.
I know less than a percent and a half,
While God, upstairs, has Him/Herself a laugh.

In poems, tears flow from my eyes like a fount - 
Since you left me, an ocean is the amount - 
And I would sure like to live without 'em,
But the math's not done until I count 'em.


Premium Member Homeland

What’s a homeland, I don’t know
Sounds a bit too much symbolic 
I’ve got no land of my own
So it turns out hyperbolic 
This home concept is not real 
Could be my imagination 
Sort of melancholy feel
Hardly a concrete location
Not the property I own
Not a shelter from the rain
Not a place where I was born
But a picture that remains
They say home is where the heart is
And my heart is over there 
Far away, where willow trees
Softly rustle in damp air.

beverage

Twist off the cap
Lay it in your lap
I'm your favourite beverage
Take a sip of your leverage
I give catering a double meaning
Leave the flavours of my heart overweening

Soft or alcoholic
Was your love for me hyperbolic
Do I leave you dreary in the streets
Every step your awareness depletes
Or do you look forward to tasting me again
No longer a recipient of your disdain

A Christmas Reverie

In Christmas's glow, where dreams and joy entwine,
A tale unfolds, of Christ's birth divine.
In Bethlehem's cradle, a babe so mild,
The Savior, Messiah, the Holy Child.

Santa, my father, in folklore's embrace,
Brings gifts and wonder to each eager face.
Yet deeper, reality's truth is spun,
For love and giving, beneath the sun.

Hand in hand, a nation in delight,
Rejoicing in the Christ, the guiding light.
The togetherness, a sincere embrace,
As hearts unite, and time begins to race.

The epic tale, in pages old and true,
A metaphor for grace, a love anew.
Hyperbolic dreams in children's eyes,
As Santa's sleigh across the starry skies.

In slumber's grip, anticipation weaves,
As visions of presents, like golden sheaves.
Sincerity wrapped in ribbons tight,
A Christmas sonnet in the silent night.


Premium Member Political Disenchantments

Our nation - at a crossroads now
With intersecting planes
Of concepts much at odds somehow -
Exacerbating strains.

The Democrats perplexities:
A "Heart without a Head"
Explains irrationalities -
(Dysfunction - simply said).

Republican proclivities:
A "Head without a Heart"
Explains their personalities -
(Flatlines on MDs charts).

Both play the same devout "blame game"
With terse polemics wrought
As zealots on both sides proclaim
Their hyperbolic thoughts.

They come and go yet most remain,
Though times change in due course,
And seem to think it's their domain -
Their livelihood resource.

And, money flows and money goes
Awash in large amounts
But how, from where, no accounts show;
Just smoke and mirrors doubts.

With most seats safely in the till
Few voters needs to heed,
Instead exert, exhort their will
On things inflating greed.

Then, how do we comport with this
Vast wasteland so immense?
We wax and wane and turn and twist -
It's our experience.

Premium Member Cosmic Kinks

cosmic kinks

earth frozen in space
hyperbolic tidal wave…
time motionless nasa

Linguistics 5 Dialectology

Knowledge of this might not be public:
Some Dialects are hyperbolic
While speakers judge it not, feel it not,
Quite sure hearers the raw message got
In Igbo Language Dialects this clear
Like a heaving chest or hands bare:
In her North’s “My Mum is not alive”
And Speaker means “Her mother is sick”
But to Stranger “‘one you can’t revive;
Date of her funeral to pick!”
In one of her West’s “He just flees.”
And Speaker thinks “He just runs.”
But impressing an escape from bees
Or fears of being brought down by guns!

Time to look at one’s dialects
And pleasure find in what one collects.

Dancing Water Hollows

DANCING   WATER  HOLLOWS


The canal water endlessly  moving  from passing  boats 
Creates not waves  but dancing hollows between, 
Moving like  countless competitors in a dance hall
Swirling around  in  kaleidoscopic color.

Hollows waltzing in time to their internal rhythms
In a  constant irregular flux of shapes and positions,
What geometric science calls hyperbolic paraboloids
In countless watery reflections.  Dancing  figures  of eight.

Each with the same rainbow of colors  on its edges,
Red   and   yellow and always with green  on the outside,
Lliving reflected imitations of  the church colors above.
Yet each is different. Liquidly mobile with endless variety. 

God’s  informal dance has no  rules, just beauty :
Colorful shapes taken momentarily 
By wave-hollows. Giant  living amoebas  with green edges, 
And seen with  His heavenly microscope.  


17   April  2021
…………………………………………………………………..


NOTE   
Next time you are looking into a river or lake   with reflections  between the   waves, look carefully at the reflections and    see how they are arranged   by nature into beautiful patterns.

Premium Member Oumuamua ------ Am I Poet Enough

look out from Hawaii
  where summit isles peek at volcan panorama
  like curious messengers scouting out ahead
  where we spied Oumuamua skim slanting past
  interstellar sliver rock tumbling by our yard
  from Lyra curving by the sun, on to Pegasus
  hyperbolic speedster, too fast for solar capture
  ......
  am I poet enough to catch your angular drift ?


  prophet of the space age
  Arthur foresaw your approach some years ago
  for moments our eyes meet, tangential traveller
  mysterious wanderer, wonder who probes whom ?
  wonder whether we are worth your fleeting visit ?
  here's hello from us to the white-horse mythical stars
  wisdom and excitement resides in not being sure
  ......
  am I poet enough to read space between the words ?


  do not stare directly
  be askance, be oblique and somewhat off-kilter
  watch the molten islands plume across the ocean
  cosmic time, ancient journeys, canoes and planets
  stumble on a meaning, kneel down, breathe in, rejoice
  feel transition, change of key, symphonic rise and fall
  music in the silence, in divergent destinations
  ......
  am I poet enough to hear gaps between the notes ?

Fear of Lost

Ripened blood still sleepless
On the staircase of memory
Flying with reliable winds

Mild embrace of the winds
Imprinting the uprooted roots
Sculptures now govern all

Breath of independence
Floating in the midfield of birth and death
Life in the sharp blade of crops

For many corpses, wounded bodies, flowing blood
For the lost chastity of women, abortions
Enthronement and dethronement the politics

Everything is an exaggeration,
Hyperbolic figures in the born free world
In the thorny frontier fences

Everyone is brother, sister, relative as human
Everywhere the fight for something else
Meaningless in the successful freedom

Today I cannot run after the wealth, names, fame.....
I cannot run after the patriotism, sovereign motherlands.....
Fear of lost the humane love I cannot run as the biased spirits



15.08.2020 Chattogram 


Note:
Almost all countries of the world are independent
But still, humanity is in the inhumane subservient
-wHY?

Noisy Cat

You have the hysterical look of mutes
that roar through narrow straws.
I see in your yellow eyes – a Jules Verne winking moon.
Soon that ribbed pink cave will release
another flock of demented coots
hacked from the craw of an ancient macaw.

Soon the whip of your vocal squawks
will pluck my eyes from their trembling stalks.
Maine Coon, part Persian, part whiskery herring,
grimalkin mouser,
I love you not when you sing.

Verne goes to the movies, a flickering French theater
of painted malarkey, where mice threaten to Can-Can.
Buck Rodgers shoots rays of hyperbolic sound
from the open nozzle of your mouth.

Picture This

Picture This

Your body contains eight hundred
Trillion trillion Carbon  atoms.
And that’s not just 
Hyperbolic hype! 

What is even more astounding is…
That one in eight of those carbon atoms
Recently was expelled as pollution
From a smokestack or exhaust pipe!

(adapted from the book “YOUR ATOMIC SELF” by Curt Stager)

Life

Hyperbolic

Parabolic

Symbiotic

Life

In the amniotic

Catatonic

Platonic

Life

In the mnemonic

Esoteric

Symphonic

Rhythmic

Life.

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