Poetry 'n Prose



They were betrayed by geometry – the
of a circular world that suggested they
were certain
to run into each other some day.
Through the motion
of days, and dreams, longitudes
blurring into
time zones across airport coffee shops,
imagining… like the misplaced, they
would find each other
in lost and found bins, in warm window
They figured geography maps would
drop a clue, a city
name, a lake or even the kind of
vegetation that would
somehow lead to a street, and a house
And what is a good time to call?
No time good enough to call people
fallen through
the circle of time, dizzy with the round-
motion of an orange earth.
And now look… the sun sets in a vague
direction of the west,
and perhaps that’s geometry
to reconcile the lines and circles of their
world. Later, it
will try with moonlit chimes and
jasmine breezes,
and through the debris of feelings
over the years that refused to pause or
as they still seek a straight line that will
lead to a
single latitude circling earth’s skin.

Rather than comment on how beautiful and transformative Meenakshi Chawla’s poem is, and it is, I’ve written a response below it, a prayer for lost lovers to reunite:

Where will I rediscover you and will I?
The question sits on all the lips of those
who lie in bed alone.
You is/are the name each of us give
to what we love the most
or what we have not, will not know.
And it is almost always that One, absent,
Gone, through circumstance or happenstance.

Where did I lose you and when? Did it
Happen even as we knew we were
discovering each other that first time.
Was loss a piece of swelling
big as the enlarging heart?

Where will I come upon you, if I do?
Perhaps in death or life again. When?
Perhaps not ever, what then? I’ll give
It another day, a week. Another month.
A lifetime more or more,
Then I’ll know I never gave up.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

11 replies on “Geometry”

Thank you Lee for your kind gesture. Your poem moves me beyond words… indeed, a lifetime or more and then I’ll be sure I never gave up trying… maybe, in this lifetime this was my lesson – to never give up, to keep trying even if I died trying.

As I look in my grand daughter’s wondering eyes I am holding this as well in my heart because this is the only way I see you now.
As the old couple walks hand in hand under the trees I am holding this in my heart as this is the way that I touch you now.
Upon waking from dreams I adjust to the feel of the air, this new day without you, who will show me your face today?
Slowly I make my way through this life finding you everywhere and nowhere…

Meenakshi’s geometry caught me totally off guard. I’m overwhelmed by it’s grace and beauty. I’m proud to reproduce it here in my poets corner.

And the word that was out of reach until you showed me is ‘Merciful’… and now I see this, through your eyes, I want to live all over again…. though it can never happen.

“who will show me your face today?”

I seldom believe in completeness, it’s rare in my world, too busy am I, like a demented bumble bee to notice the old couple holding hands in the park… yet when I embrace the gentle utterance of your waking from dreams, everything changes, like time erodes the cliff edge. Then I know that you have completed me.

Jana’s words are sublime… to be able to love beyond love, to walk where there is no road, no signs… that seems to complete the circle of love, circle of life. The love we give comes back to enrich us. Thanks Lee, for this fulfilling conversation you started – thanks Jana, for your loving insight – there is no loser in love, no loss.

I’ve wander through each line several times since
you posted…both works seem to flow in and out of each other
and nothing I can say will express the beauty I felt in reading them…
just know I sit in wonder as I take the words in once again

Take Care…

Meenaskshi, drew a picture with her words, and slowly the picture became larger and larger. There was no containing the radiance, her ambient light, and I felt I should mirror this back, from my own perspective. Some poems touch me and leave, some gnaw at me unrelenting. Geometry was, happily, the latter.

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