I

it’s hard to make a circle that’s perfect

Such a simple looking shape, but a quite unattainable prospect

You only see such perfect appearances on paper, book, or magazine

But in reality, drawing one is just absurd fantasy

 

II

i wonder why i still try to make a circle anymore

There exist triangles, squares, stars galore!

More bearable to make, more honestly expressible

Why can’t another shape be acceptable?

 

III 

Or how we can’t reflect on something other than a figure

How all our focus is on how round one is, especially on picture

How beauty is defined in strict, perfect guidelines,

How imperfection is judged cruelly every time

 

IV

God is said to have made a perfect Earth

A magnificent three-dimensional circle of worth

Though what i create, tis’ a disfigured shape, without sanguinity

A disgrace to standards of divinity

 

V 

People will feel if the circle is complete in a look

They will know the bends or crooks

i will listen to what they say

Yet how much will i bear to stay?

 

VI

For there comes a time when enough is enough

That judgment dictates reaching the impossible is rough

That it cannot erase the imperfect to any degree

Rather it defines what is ugly, but to me: 

 

VII

A circle does not have to be published on paper

A circle does not want criticism or an abrader

A circle does not strive for perfection

A circle does need love and affection

 

VIII

A circle is allowed to be fat, for it has pi

A circle should try, but not feel it must die

A circle should nor feel gloomy and square

A circle should have its area full of loving care

 

XI

A circle is my creation, day and night

No matter what, warts and all, it’s my delight

For embracing the imperfect yet universal

I’ll know how to draw a circle