~Neither perpendicular Nor parallel~ Vertex has become the node for us where a leaf
is no longer attached to the stem for planting life
together yet at some point a curve will intersect
Autonomous behavior oblique until we join together
when moon glow overrides darkest of emotions in
separation by sun beams filtering light interceding
once again for the branching of evolution on a higher
plane when we will wear our rings above our heads
(c) Neither perpendicular Nor parallel
18May2013
Vivian L Dawson
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Reviews of "Neither perpendicular Nor parallel"
Reviewed by Rory Dall (Reader)
Reviewed on May 21, 2013
This must have been a challenge to write. You have managed to insert quite a few geometrical terms in one short poem with a Wordsworth- like intimation of mortality at the end.
Saints be preserved, is what comes to mind when I intersect my branch of thoughts with the abundance of intellect you have produced in yours.
G
Reviewed by D. Vegas (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2013
I'm waiting for the halo route myself, dear Vivian...another thought provoking poem---Bravo!
Always,
Deborah
Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE (Reader)
Reviewed on May 19, 2013
if like trees our time is measured by rings, concentric parallelisms mere millimeters apart, how close must the gaps be that link not separate us in eternity... when all measure meanders towards an immense voluminous apogee where evolutionary or revolutionary thought becomes the rarest form of redundancy and what once was perpendicular resolves itself to intersticing on MacArthur Park's melting cake...
This is, in my mind, the rarest sequel to that poem you wrote called MacArthur Park ... all those months ago...
...this troubadour is acting on his part...the calling of our hearts... ...loved it, Dearest Vivian!
A most revealing poem, Vivian. The separation and lifestyle being what it is until passion or rekindled love fuses the two together. The halo's are a stark reminder of what is, or has, taken place.
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to these higher planes... may we all
achieve this some day...
Love and Light
Lily
Ron
budd
Sun beams filtering a stunning poem.
Well done!
Lady Mary Ann
G
Always,
Deborah
This is, in my mind, the rarest sequel to that poem you wrote called MacArthur Park ... all those months ago...
...this troubadour is acting on his part...the calling of our hearts... ...loved it, Dearest Vivian!
Roger