Thread: The Rudimentary Shape of Love

Three calculated points,
like over-oiled hinges
supporting thinly scribed lines, broke up
upon the slight threat of gravity.
She was an isosceles -
slanted and unsound.

Then there was no point given,
no sides taken,
no force more centrifugal
than the speed of a perfect circle.
His limbs couldn't muster
even a slight move.
His hands were forced to submit
To the gravity of circumstance.

Then he found his home;
a home of equal angles.
None were acute.
None were obtuse.
She was a shelter of perfect measure.
She could never understand
why he loved her frame.
She would say, “I don't know why you love me...
I'm such a boring square.”

Sorry, my literal male mind has real trouble with the first stanza, a triangle will always be stable, no matter how well oiled the hinges at its points. It is the relative length of the sides that needs to change for the angles to change, stamp on a triangle and you hurt your foot, they are the strongest shape. Look at a rhombus, that's what you need in mechanical terms, and if your square has two diagonals it becomes four equal triangles, and unassailable.

As I say, sorry to be so boringly male and literal, it's a nice premise and beautifully written. It is simply a matter of mechanics.

This piece is very good. The way the shapes were used to describe such ranges of personalities was intriguing. Such is love, I guess? Here are some other things I noticed:

supporting thinly scribed lines, broke up

I'm not exactly a good poet, but I felt like this line was a tad too long than the rest of the stanza, so much so it disrupted the rhythm a bit. I tried re-reading the stanza, but I can't put my finger on it. The line wasn't exactly fitting with the flow, or am I just being obsessive?

The sense of the line fits though.

Then there was no point given,
no sides taken,
no force more centrifugal
than the speed of a perfect circle.

The rhythm here was just wonderful. I actually read this aloud, much to the surprise of my mother, who was wondering why I suddenly broke into a monologue.

And the ending was just spot-on. I mean, look at these lines:

She could never understand
why he loved her frame.
She would say, “I don't know why you love me...
I'm such a boring square.”

It was like the man was saying: "If only you could see through my eyes, then you'll see how perfect she is."

Seriously, this made me smile.

Once again, you show the reason why you achieved the title "Laureate." A very good piece.

I can only agree with Fuhrer, this is a beautiful poem and the ending is wonderful Celeste.

Olly, thanks very much for your feedback! Right now, I am visualizing you with your tool belt on, as you hunker over my poem in the garage, looking for weaknesses in its structure. "It may need a few coats of anti-rust solution and solder in the corners," you say to me with very serious intonation. Then I giggle, feeling slightly embarrassed that I didn't see these things myself. The truth is that I'm pretty good at constructing things, and know my way around a car engine. I guess that I was thinking that if her hinges were well oiled and her uneven sides were "thinly scribed", then this particular person wouldn't stand a chance against a tromping foot, or gravity. But your comment is very good food for thought. Maybe I can add a few words to clarify this. I also enjoy your decidedly male take on it : )

Fuhrer, thanks very much for taking the time to read and comment. Regarding the line, "supporting thinly scribed lines, broke up" - I placed that lone straggler "broke up" at the end because I wanted to bring attention to it. This is what we do with partners that don't fit us. We "break up" with them. But I want everyone to be able to relate to this one on some level. Since it's too confusing, I'll definitely have to think about reworking this line. Thanks for the great feedback! I'm glad that there are stanzas that you resound with you. Yay!

Thanks, Cindy! I'm glad that you enjoyed reading it.

No. You are definitely girly, that doesn't preclude knowing your way around a car engine, but I mean to say, a slanted isosceles? It has two equal sides and a shorter base, very upright. Every schoolboy knows you build with triangles: girders, anything strong. Knock the bottom out of a box and you only have to step on a corner to see it collapse. Your poetry is beautiful, but it needs to contain fundamental truths, not just a mish mash of half facts and some mushy emotional stuff.

I am kidding.

Edit, but not about the beautiful bit.

Olly, you hurt my mushy, girly feelings! Totally joking. I understand what you're saying. I wasn't imagining the triangle on its base. I was thinking of it laying vulnerably on one of its longer sides. But now, because of your feedback, I realize that "scalene" is a much better choice, although it doesn't sound as sweet and pretty.

You could satisfy the triangle issue with the following perhaps..

She was a triangle -
ever adjusting her sides.

Dunno, just a thought. Indeed a fascinating piece and an enjoyable one as well. Thanks for sharing it.

All the best,
TW

Angles and mechanics aside, the connotations of this poem are just, for lack of a better word, pretty. Such a pretty poem, such a pretty sentiment, and such a pretty ideal. I really like it a lot. The rhythm flows nicely and the vocabulary fits the image well; it's technical and precise. Thank you for this!