Dieu A Fait La Femme
Geometry shows us God’s great fondness for lines
In the gazelles, birds and butterflies as well.
Everywhere we search in the midst of His designs,
Even in the sea we find many an animal in his shell.
Not stopping His ingenious design with mere creatures,
Or objects He fondly blesses with roundness,
That appear most often among celestial features,
He drew woman’s figure most curvy and boundless.
The womanly figures are of an exquisite selection,
Running the perfect outline from legs to hair,
Expressing haunting beauty with divine perfection,
And designed to please the heart willing to dare.
With circular lines it seems that He began
Depicting the face and hair with round design.
He moves then to the bust with a span,
And with symmetry amazes with the circular line.
Now on to the waist with its hyperbolic form,
He shapes with alluring symbolic notion.
Now cycling to legs God departs the norm,
And now straight lines obtain His promotion.
All of these sacred shapes and borders,
God draws from the world’s great sweep.
He conveys them from land’s four corners,
Cross mountains high and valleys deep.
God is the master of geometric arts;
He is the architect of spherical dreams.
And He fashions woman’s celestial parts
From the lines on landscape’s four extremes.
Now all of this is just to make very clear
My prayer that you be my spherical dream,
With starlight in your flowing hair,
Your glory will fuel my modest esteem.
poem by Albert Price
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Related quotes
God's obssession with Geometry
you may not be all knowing
but it does not mean you
would not know the all knowing
for instance the fact that he is
obssessed with geometry
the lines you see everywhere
in the the butterflies, the birds,
the insects, animals
what do they have in common?
such an overpowering exquisite
range of shapes and patterns
the obssession develops into
creating things to carry and
dance with those mindboggling,
at times, eerie, alluring and simply
ingenious and haunting designs
his favourite should be the shape of a ball
all things important are crowned with a roundness
that conveys his fondness for them
it starts from your two eyeballs, then the earth
then the sun, the whole planetary system
even the way they move, circular lines
the rest of his geometric insanity,
you have to run for them in the butterflies,
the birds, the molluscs, the shells,
each earth particle, the crystals
and did i say our very own face.
every line on the face makes us another person
you need not be all knowing
but that does not mean you
would not know the all knowing
his preference, his dos and donts
the way he talks in symbols using
things around us, and the cycle of things
his obssession with geometry
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Geometry!
I know that's not pleases you!
So skin and delicate! ! !
like something invisible. Naked!
Only what remains is the contour!
That you make.
And what we can do with a line? Only one?
Ask to mathematician!
He said that i have all geometric lines.
Form, size and others things.
Ask the astronomer too!
was him who has mapped the stars and planets, he said, that i have,
Left some surface still, that you did not pay attention.
That could be draws over there.
New design!
New hands. OH!
Even to me its was a surprise!
But, they sees my empty design and lines
And! dont blame me!
Was so good! ! ! !
Expose my entire space. So reveal.
My empty. My angles twisted and be real.
And, what they discovered about?
That´s between the mathematics and astronomy.
So sorry! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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FOR M. (Just For Fun)
geometry starts with a
dot, and since the dot travels a lot
more lines are made
not contented the lines make
shapes
others enclose themselves
like walls and
churches others spread like
the lines of a map
reaching for countries and
people and
all the nooks of the earth
since then the world is
thankful for a dot
that hopes for spaces and skies
and light and
speed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Mathematical Problem
This is now--this was erst,
Proposition the first--and Problem the first.
I.
On a given finite Line
Which must no way incline;
To describe an equi--
--lateral Tri--
--A, N, G, L, E.
Now let A. B.
Be the given line
Which must no way incline;
The great Mathematician
Makes this Requisition,
That we describe an Equi--
--lateral Tri--
--angle on it:
Aid us, Reason--aid us, Wit!
II.
From the centre A. at the distance A. B.
Describe the circle B. C. D.
At the distance B. A. from B. the centre
The round A. C. E. to describe boldly venture.
(Third Postulate see.)
And from the point C.
In which the circles make a pother
Cutting and slashing one another,
Bid the straight lines a journeying go,
C. A., C. B. those lines will show.
To the points, which by A. B. are reckon'd,
And postulate the second
For Authority ye know.
A. B. C.
Triumphant shall be
An Equilateral Triangle,
Not Peter Pindar carp, not Zoilus can wrangle.
III.
Because the point A. is the centre
Of the circular B. C. D.
And because the point B. is the centre
Of the circular A. C. E.
A. C. to A. B. and B. C. to B. A.
Harmoniously equal for ever must stay;
Then C. A. and B. C.
Both extend the kind hand
To the basis, A. B.
Unambitiously join'd in Equality's Band.
But to the same powers, when two powers are equal,
My mind forbodes the sequel;
My mind does some celestial impulse teach,
And equalises each to each.
Thus C. A. with B. C. strikes the same sure alliance,
That C. A. and B. C. had with A. B. before;
And in mutual affiance,
None attempting to soar
Above another,
The unanimous three
C. A. and B. C. and A. B.
All are equal, each to his brother,
Preserving the balance of power so true:
Ah! the like would the proud Autocratorix do!
At taxes impending not Britain would tremble,
Nor Prussia struggle her fear to dissemble;
Nor the Mah'met-sprung Wight,
The great Mussulman
Would stain his Divan
With Urine the soft-flowing daughter of Fright.
IV.
But rein your stallion in, too daring Nine!
Should Empires bloat the scientific line?
Or with dishevell'd hair all madly do ye run
For transport that your task is done?
For done it is--the cause is tried!
And Proposition, gentle Maid,
Who soothly ask'd stern Demonstration's aid,
Has prov'd her right, and A. B. C.
Of Angles three
Is shown to be of equal side;
And now our weary steed to rest in fine,
'Tis rais'd upon A. B. the straight, the given line.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Cover My Eyes
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth)
Cover my eyes
The light falls on her face
Dangerous lines
Dangerous colours & shapes
Ferocious designs
Connected and ready to play
Buttoned up tight
Crimson and halloween white
She's like the girl in the movie when the spitfire falls
Like the girl in the picture that he couldn't afford
She's like the girl with the smile in the hospital ward
Like the girl in the novel in the wind on the moors
Pain and heaven
Pain and heaven
The meaning of life
A hair falls out of place
Cover my eyes
Dangerous colours and shapes
And when she moves
Cover my eyes
She's like the girl on the t.v. with the red guitar
Like the girl with the dealer at the end of the bar
She's like the girl with the smile in the dream in the dark
Like the girl overtaking in the open car
Pain and heaven
Pain and heaven
Pain and heaven
Pain and heaven
Cover my eyes
The light falls on her face
Dangerous lines
Dangerous colours & shapes
Ferocious designs
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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09. A Woman Waits For Me
a woman waits for me
to angle me in such a position
it clears the brain, mind
from blotches, obstructions
oiling them for prime functions
flight between the planets
decipher the lines of einstein, plato,
picasso, van gogh
i find the extra mental sphere for poem
between the seams of her wear
delicate corners, curves
that set the brain
on a different dimension
your voice, your hair, legs, bossom
a design to spearhead me
a rocket waiting to be launched
by your softness, scent, voice, gestures
my crystalised selves that come in jets and spurts
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Deux Parallele
Two parallel lines, two parallel lines
why can't they intertwine?
Osculating endlessly in an oblivious dream
Protracting incessantly, continuing as they seem
Arduoulsy crisscrossing, but they try not
Restless, unfortunate and strange-they intersect-a lot
Abhorrent, one line was assentient
Lines that shouldn't have met-but with Fate's consent
Languishing now, they converge-supposedly inexorable
Envisaging an unbounded union, then one line fumbles
Lines- these two lines now distorted and twisted
Lonely and longing, their common point, now ill-fated
Inelastic, these two lines- concurrent and disentangled
Nevermore will these two lines meet and form the Angle
Excogitating now, these two lines, victims of fate
Saved...these two lines be, once parallel, intersecting, can only wait
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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A painter
A painter on study
sketched two nudes
In canvass, a nude
Man & woman
The man in hard
Solid lines his torso
His thighs his legs
Well chiseled by
The dark colors
Of his brush, and
The woman in
Smooth lines, her
Fragile hands, her
Soft breasts, her
Thin lines in light
Feminine colors,
He so admired
His nude creations,
And he stared
At the magic
He just painted,
And tired for
Hours, he just
Blinked a while
Wanting a little
Slip, he faltered,
He blinked and
Winked for a second,
Surprised, only to
Find out that the two
Are suddenly missing
not looking for food
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Be Sexy Effortlessly
Being sexy is not revealing parts.
Being sexy is highlighting features.
Highlight hair, ears, neck, upper back,
Arms or legs but one or two at a time.
There's a fine line between being sexy
And being cheap, which a woman must note.
For a toned body, no need of windows.
For defying hair, no need of hair-do.
For evenness of the skin, no cosmetics;
For hygiene body, no need of perfume.
On a pair of high heels one is sexy
With breasts forward and buttocks upward.
To look sexy, woman must feel sexy.
In feeling sexy, she gains confidence
About her sexual prowess and command.
Be sexy effortlessly and feed man's eyes.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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Rope hair woman
Rope hair woman
Where you’re off to tonight
Rope hair woman
You’re lookin’ out of sight
O rope hair woman
I love with all my might
Rope hair woman if you could if you can
Let me be your dread lock man.
Dread lock man
Can you understand
That a rope hair woman
Does all that she can
To move you to that sexual point
Better then your hand
O rope hair woman
Here is my plain
Rope hair woman I will give
Up my womanly man
O rope hair woman
The world can understand
That you want a dread lock man.
poem by David E. Patton
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Squashing force (Diminished hexaverse poetry)
(A poem containing stanzas of 5 lines, then 4 lines, then 3 lines, then 2 lines, ending with one word. The syllables in each stanza correspond to the number of lines, i.e.5 in each line in the first stanza,4 in the second stanza and so on. This form may contain more than five stanzas.)
Caught in illusion
Left in agony
Being badly hurt
Victim of terror
With contorted face
Depredated
Walls closing in
Screams of anguish
Desperate howls
Squashing force
Frozen tears
Twisting thoughts
Nightmares
Bleeding
Death
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Birds Fly
A little too tall for me
Beautiful flowing hair
Over a tailored jacket
Purse and matching - - - - - -
Those long legs
Then she turned
I saw the face with
The same sharp crisp lines
The rest of her had promised
She went walking by - - - - -
Not for me
Just to get by
The strides
The way her jacket swung
Draping her as she walked
It was like watching a bird
Through your shaded window
As it pauses on your lawn
Unless something makes a noise
Then birds fly
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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The Fountain Refilled
Of Hans Pietro Shanahan
(Who was a most ingenious man)
The Muse of History records
That he'd get drunk as twenty lords.
He'd get so truly drunk that men
Stood by to marvel at him when
His slow advance along the street
Was but a vain cycloidal feat.
And when 'twas fated that he fall
With a wide geographical sprawl,
They signified assent by sounds
Heard (faintly) at its utmost bounds.
And yet this Mr. Shanahan
(Who was a most ingenious man)
Cast not on wine his thirsty eyes
When it was red or otherwise.
All malt, or spirituous, tope
He loathed as cats dissent from soap;
And cider, if it touched his lip,
Evoked a groan at every sip.
But still, as heretofore explained,
He not infrequently was grained.
(I'm not of those who call it 'corned.'
Coarse speech I've always duly scorned.)
Though truth to say, and that's but right,
Strong drink (it hath an adder's bite!)
Was what had put him in the mud,
The only kind he used was blood!
Alas, that an immortal soul
Addicted to the flowing bowl,
The emptied flagon should again
Replenish from a neighbor's vein.
But, Mr. Shanahan was so
Constructed, and his taste that low.
Nor more deplorable was he
In kind of thirst than in degree;
For sometimes fifty souls would pay
The debt of nature in a day
To free him from the shame and pain
Of dread Sobriety's misreign.
His native land, proud of its sense
Of his unique inabstinence,
Abated something of its pride
At thought of his unfilled inside.
And some the boldness had to say
'Twere well if he were called away
To slake his thirst forevermore
In oceans of celestial gore.
But Hans Pietro Shanahan
(Who was a most ingenious man)
Knew that his thirst was mortal; so
Remained unsainted here below
Unsainted and unsaintly, for
He neither went to glory nor
To abdicate his power deigned
Where, under Providence, he reigned,
But kept his Boss's power accurst
To serve his wild uncommon thirst.
Which now had grown so truly great
It was a drain upon the State.
Soon, soon there came a time, alas!
When he turned down an empty glass
All practicable means were vain
His special wassail to obtain.
In vain poor Decimation tried
To furnish forth the needful tide;
And Civil War as vainly shed
Her niggard offering of red.
Poor Shanahan! his thirst increased
Until he wished himself deceased,
Invoked the firearm and the knife,
But could not die to save his life!
He was so dry his own veins made
No answer to the seeking blade;
So parched that when he would have passed
Away he could not breathe his last.
'Twas then, when almost in despair,
(Unlaced his shoon, unkempt his hair)
He saw as in a dream a way
To wet afresh his mortal clay.
Yes, Hans Pietro Shanahan
(Who was a most ingenious man)
Saw freedom, and with joy and pride
'Thalassa! (or Thalatta!)' cried.
Straight to the Aldermen went he,
With many a 'pull' and many a fee,
And many a most corrupt 'combine'
(The Press for twenty cents a line
Held out and fought him-O, God, bless
Forevermore the holy Press!)
Till he had franchises complete
For trolley lines on every street!
The cars were builded and, they say,
Were run on rails laid every way
Rhomboidal roads, and circular,
And oval-everywhere a car
Square, dodecagonal (in great
Esteem the shape called Figure 8)
And many other kinds of shapes
As various as tails of apes.
No other group of men's abodes
E'er had such odd electric roads,
That winding in and winding out,
Began and ended all about.
No city had, unless in Mars,
That city's wealth of trolley cars.
They ran by day, they flew by night,
And O, the sorry, sorry sight!
And Hans Pietro Shanahan
(Who was a most ingenious man)
Incessantly, the Muse records,
Lay drunk as twenty thousand lords!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Parallel Lines
Kindred spirits moving along the spiral
I can see you up on another level
Its too great a fall
And I cant reach you to pull me higher
But I dont seem to get much closer or any more far
What would you tell me, if I could hear you speaking?
If you could touch me, how would I know the feeling?
I just cant imagine
But I try to do it anyway
I wish I was moving faster, I wish youd drift back
But it just wasnt meant to happen
Very soon Ill have to
Face the fact
Some things never come together
Parallel lines running on forever
And you cant turn back
There is never any starting over
Parallel lines never do cross over
Its a challenge
Gotta make myself remember
Facing the truth, well, that doesnt mean surrender
What is bravado and how much is a force of will?
I know that the world is full of opposites that attract
But unless we ignore the physics
Very soon well have to
So I send you the gift of empathy
If youd once in your life acknowledge me
I have visualized so thoroughly
That when I think of me I think of we
Cant face the truth
It means that we must surrender
Understanding wont satisfy the hunger
It whittles away at the destiny we fulfill
And like an animal running wild
You cant call it back
And its just gonna make it harder
When its finally time to
Its like a train thats stuck running on a track
Parallel lines running on, running on, running on
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My audience
i write for the sun
moon, stars, sea,
the real readers
of my lines, verses
listen, the laps of the waves
they rush in estacy
to collect each of
my new poetic gems
strewn over the sand
look, the twinkling of the stars
they crystalise each
of my poetic thoughts
basking in their joy
shower their charms to the world
oh, yes, how could i forget the moon? my muse?
who cheers me up
as it signs in and out of the sky
in slender line, curvy line, round line,
to show its joy of my lines
never missing any line
and the sky that extends its heart
to all my poems, good or bad
giving the sun, stars, moon,
their recognised places
in this poetry world
the sea cheers on the rest
as the wind recites my lines
capturing my audience
in impressionistic bewilderment
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ever Fairest
Her wires fairer are
Than straightest blonde
For they take many shapes,
Her hair it does.
There is unusual beauty
In the form
That pretty norm I calculate
As foul
Then foul comes with all
Established beauty.
But her rare hair to me
Is ever fairest.
poem by Luis Estable
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Solidarity In Lines
unemployment lines
lines of books
Lines of cocaine
Food stamp lines
Theater lines
Grocery store
car wash
school children
Soup kitchen
club
abortion clinic
Delicatessen
traffic lines
crosswalks
Traffic Jam
Lines on a map
Jules gets home and un-loads his rucksack
Gods laziness
Because of the machines and computers we will all end up lonely human beings
poem by Jerome Moore
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