It's kind of like trying to make straight lines from curves, but involving shapes that sort of dictate what the curves are, if you like, and the difference between two separate pieces creates a third transitional piece if you like.
quote by Sean Booth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curves
i love curves
like winding roads
that lull me
giving me such
needed rest
when i climb
mountain tops
for curves have
a way of making
things turn the
way they are not
and i marvel
about such
an intricacy
an art that winds
upon itself in
mystery, something
so profound
like what is that boa
hiding in its coils?
a pig? a goat?
a dog?
or a man?
curves heal
like a profound idea
entwining a man's mind
like a vine
delivering a yellow flower
to my lips
curves of a woman's body
like an argument that
wants to convince a stoical
and impartial jury
curves in my mind
not sharp not blunt not even piercing
but exaltingly stunning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Patterned...
i must remember
we all love sunsets
we waited in fact
when it comes
by the sea sometimes
or on the grounds of
the university
we face the mountain
of curves and we
are silent...
we know what doubts are
and we make promises
never shall we be this and
that.............we shall only
be what they want us to be
what is likable
and acceptable.....we are so naive
and young and
so innocent.....when ages come like
layers of earth for
each kind of deluge
we accept we are wrong
we only have to be us
we do not have to be what they want us to be
because we have become
so unhappy.......after all those years we meet again
on the grounds of the university
waiting to another sunset....
we hate one another now
we have assumed patterns
we have common shapes
we are almost identical
all unhappy pieces of their art
.......we finally shy away
parting....we hate sunsets
more than ever......
we forget our names
we did not have any.....well anyway...
who are you?
and where are you going?
how sad and tragic
these patterns
these common pieces
these us and them...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Turning Point
she was taught nothing but straight lines
and her life has always been like the way she was taught
a straight one
no curves, no angles, no secants,
nothing to decant, nothing foamy, everything is settled
like some mathematical principles
solid, stoical, hard, sturdy,
devoted to nothing but study
laughter is strange
the frown is welcome, and
like a stuffed toy did she become
in one of those cabinets
she bathes in the antiquity of her silence
until she exploded, she was shattered into
concentric pieces, tangent minuscules
her mouth foamy, her eyes all too hazy
her neck strangled, and we took turns
looking at her scattered limbs.
on this turning point of her life,
the straight line travels dissolving as air
in a distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fun
as age
increases its creases
like a convoluted species
of the brain
fun rewrites itself
in some straight lines
shunning curves
and crooked edges.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When producers want to know what the public wants, they graph it as curves. When they want to tell the public what to get, they say it in curves.
quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something That Flows Away
FINALLY you tell me
you like an empty house
something minimal
all white with no curves
just straight lines
your want is small now
something that makes us close
something that shrinks
to make an intimacy
you want a house just
for the two of us
i am thinking if these thoughts
are a little bit late
my dreams are different
i am thinking of a bird-house
i am thinking of grains
i am thinking of water
something that i can leave
something that i can give
something that flows away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Flash
it comes as a flash.
A body.
At first it is just lines and curves.
There is no minding at all
about anything else.
Then follows the scent that
compliments
its newly acquired
existence
its desirability enhanced
by the warmth
of morning hues
by the window of the house.
The scent brings in some
memories of
youth
some places of the heart
like a grassy hill
and an
abandoned hut
faraway.
After a while it is not just
the body
but the tongue
and palms.
The mind starts to creep in
like a cloud
and sunshine from
the south.
IT demands something more
It is not just these memories
and feelings
those touches of hues
and colors and
scents
and eventually taste.
And then the movement.
It coils around you
This psyche
This soul and then you go deeper
into a form
of regret.
This is not the body that you like
But the lines and curves
of some long forgotten
circumstances that want to be
repeated
too often
but can never be
Because there is only one body
one soul
and it is not there
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Riddle
I cut my life in to pieces
Of light and deeper curves
In numbers and shapes mixed within
The mystery of my own color
In this five by seven of me
A heart where mother lived
Seven years after I was born
It’s still torn and abandoned
The green valley of rice and corn
I’m 3rd and 7th of 8 grains
To see a sky above the fluffy clouds
To the land of black, yellow, and white
My “shoes-lady’s land” wasn’t my dream
To watch the Ford- Rockefeller’s ending time
Yet my fate lies onto the stripes of red and white
In the 31st of its 50 stars
Thereafter three squares tire to be abused
By economy’s worst obstructions failed
The red-lines that went too many circles
Hacked me with them in jagged edge
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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I'm not ready to be a woman yet, I'd like it if my body were more boyish. Maybe I'll like my curves when I'm older but right now they kind of make me squirm.
quote by Vanessa Marcil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Saree And The Blouse
The blouse hugs your curves
And deepens the cleavage.
The saree shapes your contour
And displays your loins.
What else can clothe you better?
06.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Driftwood
Pieces of wood intertwined like the bodies of lovers
Smooth edges ridges and curves for me to discover
Entangled branches held together building a new form
Intimate confrontations left behind by a great storm
The wood shows cracks like the wrinkles of skin
Bleached out by salt and sun a piece of art therein
To me my love - you seem like the driftwood I found
You are beautiful and smooth all the way around
Your expressions are throughtful and sad at the same time
My heart you have captured committing a victimless crime
You carry the marks of life and adventure on your face
I would love to drown in your arms within your embrace
Like pieces of driftwood connected by fate together
With you I can withstand life in any kind of weather
I want to become a better me with you forever around
Like the beautiful wood we are for eternity bound
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Sometimes I watch you, mark your brooding eyes
Sometimes I watch you, mark your brooding eyes,
Your grave brow over-weighted with deep thought,
Your mouth's straight line — details of such a sort
That all aloofness in your aspect lies.
And yet when in the dark down from above
You swoop like a great bird or God himself
To kiss, your lips have curves. What changeling elf
Is that soft mouth of passionate close love?
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Men are governed by lines of intellect - women: by curves of emotion.
quote by James Joyce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Study in Scarlett
A Study in Scarlett
A wistful sadness in your eyes
Says all you need to say..
Your heart desires privacy
Now that love has gone away.
A legendary beauty-
A star of screen and stage
You’ve always been before us
since a young and tender age.
Mother Nature was most generous-
Most think you live in clover-
Blonde hair, blue eyes, the perfect skin
And cups that runneth over.
Life can serve up curves besides
The curves you proudly own.
To make you think, like Garbo,
that you want to be alone.
True, there will be other loves
and other roles to play.
Today you act the stoic
Now that love has gone away
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The covered are seen as if uncovered.
Curves, shapes and contours
Only in women give you impetus
Man is given powerful eyes,
With which he x-rays them.
Even if hidden under heavy garments
She tempts him thus
As liquor in his stomach.
27.04.2002, pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Grand Designs
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
A to b --
Different degrees...
So much style without substance
So much stuff without style
Its hard to recognize the real thing
It comes along once in a while
Like a rare and precious metal
Beneath a ton of rock
It takes some time and trouble
To separate from the stock
You sometimes have to listen to
A lot of useless talk
Shapes and forms
Against the norms --
Against the run of the mill
Swimming against the stream
Life in two dimensions
Is a mass production scheme
So much poison in power
The principles get left out
So much mind on the matter
The spirit gets forgotten about
Like a righteous inspiration
Overlooked in haste
Like a teardrop in the ocean
A diamond in the waste
Some world-views are spacious --
And some are merely spaced
Against the run of the mill
Static as it seems
We break the surface tension
With our wild kinetic dreams
Curves and lines --
Of grand designs...
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire unclothed
Hues, curves, shapes and odours
Have no role to play for
The woman already under your
Arms, generating fire,
Like petals of a flower
For the bees who fell on a flower.
25.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A sensual scribble
I was the scribe who woke up at dawn
Finding a clean sheet of paper
And this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
Having the urge to write
Something sensual
My fingers spread the paper
On this table
Where there is so much disorder
Some paper clips and
Floppy discs scattered
Scotch tapes and mail openers
And some still unopened mails
That I did not mind
Not my priority
I was into something sensual
On this clean sheet of paper
On an urge to write
Grabbed this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
And start scribbling
Some lovely head notes
“My dear darling”
Careful strokes in curves
Sliding on paper
My fingers are wildly
Caressing to the shapes of
Sensual letters and words
And breathtaking sentences
“You know that you make me
Hot and you make me wild
And I always remember you”
And I am at the middle
Of so much longing
Using such letters
U and I
And w and e
Lots of ohs and ahs
And s and e and x
L and o and v and e
To make sense
Without pretense
Some exclamations
And pauses of commas and
Semicolons spread on some
Corners of this paper
With so much
Unstoppable anticipation
Somewhere in the center
I pierced this paper
With this glossy ballpoint pen
Writing something
Emphatic
Clinching
And I was at the height
Of my desiring and
So much liking
Something ecstatic
And calming
At the end
It was a beautiful piece
Of a scribble
Written at dawn
And I wrote at the end part there
“With all my love I remain
Your faithful slave”
And a postscript at the tip
Of my tongue
Written with a nip
“When will I see you again? ”
The letter shall be mailed at once
She will understand that pierce
Somewhere at the center something
That was ecstatic and she will remember
Every letter every word was an ember embedded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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L A Inflatable
Oh well her skin it was softer than velvet
And her eyes were as bright as a childs
Her lips were a promising picture
Warm and celluloid
But her words had me thinkin too deeply
The meaning be-lying her face
Made me look just a little bit closer
Between the lines
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
She said youve got to be seen at the roxy
The strippers will know who we are
But youve got to be seen to be happy
Youre a tinseltown star
Youre going upwards and downwards and sideways
Man youre really caught up in a dream
With your head burning under the starlight
From the studio scene
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
L.a. inflatable, she never says no
L.a. insatiable, you dont have to go
L.a. charisma
Well she knows all the famous musicians
Sometimes she sees how they play
And when the back stage passes are going
She really knows how to pay
Shes a product of rock 'n roll livin
Shes a victim of hollywood hate
Shes a soul survivor
Shes the midnight special
Gonna lay you to waste
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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