Scientists say
"The shortest way in space
is a parabolic line
Does it mean
nothing in the universe
goes on or has a straight line?
Speaking of the line,
Let me remind you
of something really fine
even the body doesn't have
a straight spine
The hoi polloi were inquisitive of pelting
Forage famine and began to shrivelling
Drought blanket and upon the entire bush
The thatches restored ramshackle to meagre
And starvation startling the crofters.
In the season they'd all crowned;than ago
And sentenced to less drought by words
Soon set out beside huts and encountered
To the Deity,for a blissful impeachment
And for Him to shadow them with pelting.
Colour yet for speed twenty beseeches
Which should-less bigotry retired
Though, extroverts gallantry shelves frequently
Rosy,Giver retorted it to them:not for bigotry...
And worthwhile them with the parabolic season.
Conical sections or parabolic curves
elastic gives while steel holds the line
gravity melts in sunlight bright
while what is seen weakens the whole
momentum with excesses goes
but the earth won’t be denied
hopes and dreams of the night
dies with the sight in day time
engineers struggle with calculus hard
sectors and tensions encompassing dreams
forcing nature into mathematical lines
building the shapes of warped dreams
bulging eyes targets may be
being poked out by what is seen
flowing curves of parabolic lines
too soft of message be said
rejoicing in what one has
a streak of malice might lie within
metaphors vie to define the site
young boys grasp and old men sigh
reflections condense in the mist of time
it is what it seems to be in prismatic recoil
and then another broken shard mirrors
illusions of self-centred sparkling confusion
when the lime light turns into a sour brew
of convictions denied their valid conclusion
where necessary and sufficient lacks clarity
an olive branch reaches out to impermanence
translucent and ephemeral certainty levitates
flies against tides and currents in stormy repose
a surrender to ignorant dogma gathers a glimpse
of what reality is and how to stoke change and reprieve
parabolic contention yields new paradigms and hope
the dialectic wheel turns ever faster and spins new yarns
squares a circle of never-ending angles and perspectives
dizzying heights wait for the patient purveyor of peace
25th November 2020
Ice is water entombed,
ready to have vitality again and rise from the grave.
In a portrait portraying,
like the hangman-in confinement,
marooned at death's island prison,,
time cocooned, showing the need to learn to behave.
Or be shaved, shived, and broken.
In character, a caricature of nature in culture,
it's symbolic, parabolic token.
A stasis that reminds you to let yourself flow,
with enough warmth,
as to be a tributary, to life, not brittle,
unyielding and hard, or dead inside.
That can cut into people like a knife.
You waved goodbye with a
smile,
I couldn't argue because it
was at the hour of the night.
But I heard the screeching
of birds,
Still I couldn't sense its message,
it was too parabolic.
Would you wake up, I'm
calling your phone.
The sun is up,
It kissed my cheeks but I missed
your hug on my chest.
Can't you just get up and say
hi to mom?
Please God, can I share a bit
of my breath?
I need some seconds to
talk to Mr Death.
Our memories will never fade
They say death is an obligation,
Who are we to blame?
I miss you, who'll play with
me the football games?
I wish I could stop the tears but
pretence I can't make cause;
"I'M IN PAIN"
Poet
Olajire Damilola Muyideen
(SmilingPen)
Right Reserved
Hyperbolic
Parabolic
Symbiotic
Life
In the amniotic
Catatonic
Platonic
Life
In the mnemonic
Esoteric
Symphonic
Rhythmic
Life.
Script for a Jester’s Fears
The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd
A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun
They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audience’s grasp
Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jester’s charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells
‘I can do this once more and for all’ she convinces her mask
‘I may crush my persona for no one to see’ grimace or not
Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen
Fool’s cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
25th April 2017
When I was seven I felt the urge
to capture an enchanted being.
I caught him in the gentle grasses
of our side yard.
Cupped in my hands
he waited,
his antennae gathered signals from distant worlds,
his cold eyes measured
the texture of my skin,
his armor sparkled
in the shadows of my fingers,
his legs were unanchored tent poles.
I held out my hand
straight as a diving board.
He sprang
with power and grace --
a green arc of parabolic escape.
He was blind to what he left behind:
a bonfire in my chest,
a salty koan,
the memory of a trinket
I had to let go.
Twitching finger
Symptomatic to Parkinson,
And his namesake dis-ease,
Holding a dirty pistol,
Pointing out the barrel
Is unaimed, but serendipitously
On the right parabolic trajectory...
And boom, boom, boom
Out go the lights.
Instant justice, for
Justice missing the target.
English quintain
I’m leaving, going far away
and when I’m through, I will return.
But meanwhile, mind my vineyard, stay.
I’m staking out a risk to earn;
It is for you, to try and learn.
I lease to you my private land
which I have hedged. I’ve built a tow’r
so you may guard my kingdom grand.
Till I come back, you are in pow'r.
I will come back, an unknown hour.
Time lingers on, I send trustees
to test the fruit; the vintage won.
The tenants stone and wound all three;
more were dispatched , more harm was done.
They’ll show respect, I’ll send my son.
Imprudent keepers of my lease
imagined I was surely dead.
They saw a chance the land to seize.
My heir’s demise they thought ahead
would free the land to tenants’ stead.
This is a story Jesus told
a parabolic sermon heard.
The tenants’ logic had no hold;
God’s kingdom soon would be transferred
from Jew to Gentile. Thoughts are stirred.
written by Reason A. Poteet
first posted at Poetry Soup – 3 Feb 2015
Iambic tetrameter – an English quintain
for Giorgio’s contest: Structured forms-Iambic verse - Recite and analyze a fictional event
inspired by a biblical parable, Mark 12:1-12
arc - parabola
life - our parabolic bow
ends that never meet
My wife Lomet fell in love with a comet
Hugged the Tuttle and fastened him to grommet
Tuttle was tattler
Snaky and rattler
Lashed his tail in parabolic trail--kismet
my wife lomet/limerick/copyright (c) rajat kanti chakrabarty 21 november 2014
Climbing from her escapism's, evanescent pool; love's predicate...
Figure skating of dreams, infinite; timeless, Hollywood's paper doll ?
Fete fete's parquet circles; abstract evolutions ex de facto; abtruse comets
Her beauty's evening star ? An epoch; fantasia's zephyr winds; parabolic these doors
Celestial's sphere sunset's skies; axioms ignis fatuus ? Fandom's fluttering wings..
Spawned their pure white dove; solitary, blue canopy her flight ? Carte blanche scarlet, tears.
Like the blind men and elephant each brightly shining his light from the Kings light we see the light apart we are just bouncing around groping strange things in the Dark From the heart follow the True light be not like the five foolish virgin's reception walking in deception while you rant The wise thing to do in the kingdom Go with those that already have a torching light seeing this is but a light reflection on wisdom
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