Long Diagonals Poems
Long Diagonals Poems. Below are the most popular long Diagonals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Diagonals poems by poem length and keyword.
*** Sketching the Ballerina ***
It is well, quite well after midnight.
My pup lies fagged on the blanket
as close to me as possible.
The young ballerina sits slightly slumped
On a bench across from the barre, still wearing
Her stage costume with its long net skirt.
I am vexed that the sleeping hour has come.
I grieve to leave her.
She was looking with her black eyes
Directly into my own, asking (as I’m asking myself),
“How can I leave her with a twisted foot?”
The enviable line of the ballerina’s foot, which
“En pointe”
Completes the geometry of the ballet:
Toes coursing the lines of the legs,
On diagonals or paralleling the arms
On through to a pointing fingertip,
With the addition of a superbly angled head.
I grieve having to leave my sketch, to keep
The pretty ballerina in a long-waiting lurch
With her foot twisted, against all her dancer’s instincts;
Against completion of her body line;
Against all her trained and now natural inclinations
Directed to set her preparation
For beginning any elegance in motion;
Add life to the already vibrant music;
Wear her training posture unto every finale’s curtsy
And well deserve the appluse that comes
Along with the roses tossed up
Around her perfect feet…
I simply must put the pencil down,
Wondering how soon before her
Tears might fall while she waits for her foot to be drawn
Correctly arched. The sketch’s error involves
Perhaps a sixteenth of an inch here and there
With the slightest touch of erasing…It’s
The additional light of day,
Which altogether should make a portrait worthy
Of showing to St. Peter as he stands by The Gate.
As she displays her weariness to me,
I must beg her pardon, for it’s now nearly
Three hours past midnight
And my pillow begs for the lay of my head.
My dismal skills must rest
And wait for my sketchpad
To be spread over with beams from
The window’s morning sun.
—————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 6/2023
Thanks be to God…
Zentangles are relaxing to me.
Those spirals, X’s, whorls so neat
Zentangles are fun for thee
They give my heart a slower beat
Just take a small box, two by two
Drawing several on a page can be fun
Inches not yards, is what you do.
Then make a pattern in each one
Diagonals are fun to doodle and try
Make a small slash at the halfway mark
Then take a pencil and make an eye
Draw at a picnic table at the park
Pretty soon kids will see what you do
They will come closer to truly see your lines
They will wander over to say things to you
Show them how to relax using their inner mines
This is a zentangle, you tell them true.
It can help you relax when you are upset.
Just pick up a pencil, and I will show you.
They will show you some new ideas, I’ll bet.
It's only Tuesday
Yet the whipping outside
Is quite lovely tonight
Hopes and expectations are
Aligned with fiery desire
Mulled with insatiable fruit
Steam arises from holes
Better meant for quaint beginnings Everyone traversing by diagonals And conquering marches
Disguised with vibes buzzing
Into incendiary bravados
TV night for some here
Has turned to epic, quixotic chapters Of legends and laughter
To remind some that
The days of fullest expression
Can't be tied down to holidays
Or weekends
They need to breathe and
Swallow each gasp of life
We're willing to expend
Time following Tuesday's gust
Into foreverland.
(10/8/19)
On a sand less stepped on
by many, I drew a square
whose side is twice my height.
I lay on my back in that square
with my head tangent to its side
and with my feet on the intersection
of the square's diagonals.
Temperature rose in the place.
My body melted.
My head turned into a magnet
and my feet into a pivot.
On each vertex of the square
emerged a magnet polar with mine.
They beckoned me
to join them in their play.
As I approached one of them,
it moved away from me.
The next did the same.
Again I approached another,
hoping that it would be
different from the previous,
but I failed.
They were all the same!
They had planned it?
I thought of stopping their mischief
until I felt that some
mechanisms on my pivot (feet)
were giving them motivation.
Sexual Employee
It clocked in at 7:02 am
No orifice in sight
Placed the time card in a slot
Made its way to a metallic table
Blank white paper on the top
#2 lead pencil, covered yellow, appeared
One hour later the employee began to draw
At the center of the paper starting at point “A”
A thin line was drawn from there to point “B’ on the page
Horizontal, naturally
Below that, one hour later, another line was formed
Starting at point “C”
It too was a thin line drawn and continued on to point “D”
Horizontally, of course (the two lines never intersected)
Vertical lines could only be drawn on Fridays
Diagonals were not permitted
They were perverse and went against the laws of nature
The employee had no discernible features worth mentioning
But, it does come to work each day though
With two buttons built or installed into its side
It rolled over to the clock at 4:02 pm and punched out
Placed the time card in a designated slot and left
Went home with the push buttons still installed
One red. One green. Always the same
We never questioned
It is not our job
On a sand less stepped on
By many, I drew a square
Whose side is twice my height.
I lay on my back in that square
With my head tangent to its side
And with my feet on the intersection
Of the square's diagonals.
Temperature rose in the place.
My body melted.
My head turned into a magnet
And my feet into a pivot.
On each vertex of the square
Emerged a magnet
Which is polar with mine.
They beckoned me
To join them in their play.
As I approached one of them,
It moved away from me.
The next did the same.
Again I approached another,
Hoping that it would be
Different from the previous,
But I failed.
They were all the same!
They had planned it?
I thought of stopping their mischief
Until I felt that some
Mechanisms on my feet
Were giving them motivation.
Two Dimensional Love and Life
Some lines move horizontally
Others go diagonal
There are lines that travel up and down
They all make love within their set parameters
As is their culture and tradition there
Always within the lines, as is their prerogative and mission
For years Mr. E-line traveled from the east alone
One day he stumbled into Le Le Ling, from a line of high position
Coming from the east straight at him without permission
She was a fine line worth knowing, from a noble lineage
Both wanted sex directly when they met
They fell in linear love from point to point
Neither could continue forward, nor go up or down
And forget about left and right, as their world was flat and straight
They had to do everything frontal and did so on the spot
In the two dimensional realm you were caste from birth
To mate with someone from your universe
From your circle so to speak
Obviously they are lines so let’s proceed
In any case they came from flat lands of the east and west
Horizontal was the only life they knew
Le Le Ling and E- line were destined for each other
Other lines outside of Horizontal World were frowned upon
Diagonals were out of fashion, up and down too
Looked down upon in flat land prejudicial manner
Though “down” in their reality was not an option
Other dimensions did not exist for them
From their narrow point of view
Mr. And Mrs. Line had a baby line one day
They named it Little Liner
Raise it to be direct and true
And straight as an arrow too
In their religion there is only one commandment
Look in front of you to find your way to heaven
Since you have no other direction any way
Stay in line, head toward the light to find the truth
APPRECIATION
outlines
of emotional
euphoria
diagonals
counterpoint
filtered
light
inflated
pointed
angular
a comparison
to extract
the permanent
an inescapable
pathos
tranquil integral
coherent
in visible expression
with formal elegance
restrained
in an
authentic response
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
I belong in rings
circles of my whispering
each chant at tangent—
across the diagonals
charting my awakening
I use rhythm to draw
compass lines on virgin ground
breathing a mantra
to recite faithful sketches
that arc over the dome shroud
triangles of doubt
erupt within the echo
edges turned inward
yet this sharpness finds its place
when confined in the circle
what would shapes become
without their opposing sides
a square needs four sides
a soup bubble shape trembles—
balance born in symmetry
in the polygon
of opinions gathered there
angles speak at once
each playing a vital part
swayed by the container's form
within the circle
infinite as mandala
voices radiate
from faith as a central star
blazing signals of pure light
DEVOTION POEM 39th ANNIVERSARY
On this stilled night,
Dare I presume?
After a listening to the way
Einstein came to realize his
Relativity realities,
Dare I presume to sit once overagain in memory
In a student center’s crowded circumstances…?
To choose you, to offer a share of my
Sandwich, snapping a mental photo of your hands,
Which in our years I will come to love, able
To imagine their frequent, gentle touch over
My skin, just as your eyes always do, as still, after
All these years as if asking permission for its sought sight of me.
Do we presume in our dancing angles so relative
To our decades of delighted diagonals resting our heads
On each other’s chests, feeling the warmth, the slow
Up and down as breaths go on? Hold then, once again
My heart in your hands, as we incline back or lean forward
In time, in this astounding utterance of long years — 39 —
That I dare not utter without some marveling tears;
For my long ago hopes of this togetherness,
I once but presumed to bear, a simple maid
With hopes of loving thee, with a love that can bring you
Some joy in its life and length of passion.
A dream, a hope, a vow become reality.
The deepest love can presume its memories to seem as
If they occurred only yesterday, held in the heart
Once over, living again.
——————————- ————————————————. ————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 8/17/22
Anniversary 8/17/83
With regards to t.s. Elliot