Equiangular

The path sears its trajectory

Seeking the comfort of bijection

Segregated from the clusters, an outlier

Watching point devour bundle

Wrinkling lip, as forms the Spinode

Wishing equation finds a root

Dreams, steeped in fantastical roots

Comatose, losing trajectory

Is that a point of singularity, Is that my Spinode?

Yearning for bijection

Without family, one can’t be in a bundle

Relegated, to all it knows, forever the outlier

The clusters grow distant; such is the plight of an outlier

Astir the lonely can, never able to take root

Witness to a thousand bundles

Never fearing their trajectory

Always talking, always a bijection

But its points are sharp, never the Spinode

Where is my Spinode?

Craving unity, yet cast aside, always the outlier

In my head, I’ve seen the beauty of bijection

One to one, able to catch root

A perfect trajectory

Embraced by my own bundle

The love of a bundle

Two branches of a curve meet, a Spinode

Painting the horizon with pristine trajectory

Never alone again, discarding the mask of outlier

Try to steal me from this root

Impossible for he that knows the feel of bijection

Have you ever experienced the brilliance of bijection?

Joined by the like, clustered in a bundle

Nourishing water feeding a combined root

Tangents coinciding this Spinode

Never forgetting the previous life, alone as outlier

Harnessing trajectory

The trajectory of curve, and the point for Spinode

Love comes in bundles; we pity the outlier

He without the knowledge of bijection; he without roots

D'Verse is rolling out the Sestinas tonight for their Form For All night.  Gay is hosting the evening and really did a great job introducing the form.  Sestinas are a different breed of poem for sure.  I've always found the form interesting in concept, but very difficult to produce one personally, well a good one anyhow.  I remember playing the Sestina game, way back in grad school.  We all wrote down six random words on a sheet of paper, cut each word off the sheet and placed all the words in a brown bag.  Each student went up and took turns pulling out a word until we all had six.  Then we went on to create our own Sestina.  

This is one form that always boggles my mind.  I could have picked out six perfect words, but the problem that I find popping up is adhering to their positioning on subsequent stanzas.  It's very typically the case where I find myself wanting to say something different, or more likely a great line, not including the needed word, pops into my head but can't be used.   It's both aggravating and fun at the same time.  You feel like you've passed a major challenge.  It's a bit of a rush.

The example Gay provided on the site is a really good one.  Mine normally comes out a bit disjointed.  So of course I'd have to go and pick 6 mathematical terms for the piece.  It was a challenge but I kinda like what came out of the exercise.  And it's always a good thing to challenge and expand the limits of one's mind.  So hope you all enjoy and for those of you not joining me via D'Verse.  Make sure you click on the link I've provided here to check out the other submissions, and perhaps, if you're up to the challenge, submit one of your own.

Ocular Dysfunction

Tearing at the tendons

Ripping the sinew,

My heart, my love

Forgiveness was overdue

Gnawing at the cartilage,

Dissecting the hyaline

My one, my only

When did severance begin?

Lens produce the image

Pupils guide it through

A retina is built in layers

A portion sensitive to light

But it’s the nerve,

Conducting impulses to the brain

Too many valves,

So small a chamber,

Our union seemed so promising

If only the maturation

Wasn’t appositional

Perhaps the varicosity

Could have been relieved

Politics of love

Politics of love

It was a moon lit desert eve

When her vision first gained my notice,

I was but a fledgling,

Without the experience,

And she was the epitome,

What every magazine and movie

Said A woman should appear as,

A day removed this vision struck me yet again,

A portrait mingling amongst others of her ilk

Light, fruit colored dresses contrasting against black silk,

Fermenting in the pause, drunk through solitary stare

The third day ended my stay

As the driver pulled away

I could see her relaxing by the poolside

I turned around for one last glance

Wondering if I’d ever get such a chance

Then remembered something a mentor once spoke,

Politically, you cannot complain if you didn’t vote,

Your participation could have been the difference,

With it you alone can play a major role in your countries direction,

I believe the same can be said regarding matters of the heart

The Passion Of A Stolen Kiss

Five past the cauldron’s boil,

Through curdled clouds on an onyx canvass colored sky,

Spy I might with but one eye closed,

The smell of charcoal, the sense of fear,

But it’s through my fingers that which should not be witnessed is revealed,

Dreams awakened through rudimentary means,

The sort forced upon us at an early age,

It’s ten past consumptions point and a decision must be made,

Wicked brew comingling from tongue to belly,

Seconds flat to feel its crude, yet wonderfully subtle snake-like smile,

A charming upon the inner child,

Smart and shiny, crumpled in a tiny ball,

Over the shoulder, the shawl I throw,

Out with the darkness and above goes the cold and snow,

Shackles unbound, tonight we fly,

 Free as gypsies, empowered like thieves,

Travel we will, in caravan, over the plains of time,

Unfettered wishes abound this eve,

Through the stars and over the trees,

The glimmer in the corner of that woman’s eye,

Deliberate yet charming, a magnification of someone mesmerized,

As thunder meets lightning, that initial time, a passionate roar of the wild roaming lion,

Mane freely flowing as its pride evades, a coveting swarm of enamored bees,

Territorially, tonight we claim, that song, playing over moonlight, in the midnight breeze.