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Best Famous Scientifically Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Scientifically poems. This is a select list of the best famous Scientifically poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Scientifically poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of scientifically poems.

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Written by Belinda Subraman | Create an image from this poem

Approaching The Veil Scientifically

 Eyes like stars sparkle and die
and cycle into new stars, new eyes.
The answer is outside our window.
Astronomers look for the beginning and find there is no end.
Down to earth there are frozen lines, winter trees, stalled cars in dirty snow, sorrow over endings.
The real world is through the window, infinite, ageless.
Though a clear veil keeps us distant, the soul of what we can never prove keeps us close.


Written by Rg Gregory | Create an image from this poem

a reader's de profundis

 in my reading of the moment i have learned
the figure next to christ in da vinci’s last supper
(a painting i have actually seen in a milan church
fragilely restored) is a woman – an honour earned
by mary magdalene who (according to research)
turns out to be christ’s wife – hang on what a whopper

cry those who can’t contemplate centuries of teaching
down the drain – who suck up to the precious thought
of divine purity (eternity’s abstention from all
the dirty business of the body) pasteurising preaching
let christ stay a product of the time before the fall
(da vinci had a darkness different from what’s taught)

mona lisa (amon-isis) – enigmatic smile and code
for male and female balance – offensive to the powers
that ran the bible their way (hoodwinked future ages)
turned the bright sun black to mask the path they strode
wrapped their ascetic bloodstreams in the holy pages
before which (even today) the congregation cowers

da vinci was an artist scientist (probably a necromancer)
had his own black sun – dabbled in the anti-matter
that official truth hates (creates) – that nurtures riddles 
through passageways that breed the ill-reputed answer
(soiled honour’s defence against sly caesar’s fiddles)
hissing its way lightwards through conspiracy chatter

christ had a woman at his right hand – locked together
(so da vinci had the painting say) like the letter m
the rumoured whore redeemed – the partner siamesed
into the one flesh – sharing the equal tragic tether
the whole edifice of the holy roman church teased
into collapse – virginal rose snapped at the stem

not that it seemed to make a difference – the vatican
still had its glory years ahead (its gory inquisitions)
da vinci stayed honoured in the breeches the word advanced
though its priests wore skirts – the brutality of man
multiplied its converts (scientifically enhanced)
not one power in the world changed its dirty dispositions

yesterday was aeons ago – tomorrow’s loath to come
no one really cares if magdalene was wife or whore
da vinci is someone to gawp at – all’s mutable (unreal)
what’s truth - we still know bugger-all (live by rule of thumb)
so educatedly dumb can’t trust what we think know feel
a thriller brought this on – half opened a not-there door
Written by Rg Gregory | Create an image from this poem

haunting the quark

 (I)
if you can’t scientifically explain it
dawkins says it has no value – some hope
inside the mechanical framework of a guess
(as far as any fact can truly grope)
doubts roam – mere looking can’t attain it

twentieth-century science perceived that mess
the more you probed the inner – more the scope
for chaos (uncertainty) – no mind could drain it
tie it to a marriage it must elope
clarity of thinking must make worse the stress

the artist looks at truth and has to feign it
stirs mud makes shapes (gives up) disturbs old rope
what’s not there’s there (says who) – such wantonness

(II)
revelation comes in flits and starts
each one’s a bundle of the genes’ loose ends
there’s a sparking deep down in the dark
that (come to light) can’t find its plain amends
can’t sport a price-tag in exchange and marts

who wants mathematics in a singing lark
(oh it’s there all right – it’s not what listening spends)
the mystic truth lies somewhere in the heart – 
lies (you see) - all best truth has the bends
it’s blood not thought that asks the muse to heark

no artist helps – no doughty horse but cart
receptacle for undeciphered legends
science hunts (it’s art that haunts) the quark

Book: Shattered Sighs