Best Abacus Poems
A huge Alsatian barks at a passerby stranger
as the pond geese honk sensing grave danger
Trudges back home a rangy lone ranger.
Big and little aubergines cast a purple shade
In the twilight birdsong begins to fade
Night makes navy-blue of the greenery's jade.
Wolves howl in the distance
Panthers prowl near pig pens
Ocelots growl around the dens.
Dolphins perform in the aquatic circus
Kids count on the time-old abacus
All in all the miracle of creation's fabulous
Elsewhere the morn dawns upon wee ladybirds
And shepherds go about grazing their hungry herds.
A rare sight of starfishes settle upon beach pebbles
Pink salmon in a see-through lake breath out bubbles
Bombed by tech; corpses found in debris and rubbles!
Wild species lurk in the murky forest
Stands tall and hovering high mount Everest
A chance to enjoy nature at its very best!
Admit it O' mankind no one can ever be
at par with your and my versatile Creator
The billions of species is far too extraordinary
He single-handedly created all that variety in nature.
For even the clever human who invented the radio
did not as well model the computer.
The one who designed my dresser couldn't design my patio
It'd be rare for a shoemaker to also be a tutor
But God He made both ant and elephant
and there's absolutely nothing that He can't.
A sprinkle of wit
a dash of gravitas
Not too precise
idle your abacus
A pinch of clarity
to seek the cavity
Where truth seeps in
where daylight dawns
I shall go weary with a fight,
Into that strange and ever night,
Across the bounds of thistle-thorns,
To dance a jig neath golden horns;
Perchance, I breathe a sulfured air,
For earning less than heaven’s fair,
I’ll take my place within the blaze,
To gladly boil away my days;
Or if I’m sat upon a shelf,
Betwixt to ponder soul and self,
Account my earthly deeds, to sum,
Those Righteous, those righteous none;
I’ll build myself an abacus,
With bones and teeth, I’ll never miss;
Who really knows the consequence,
Of living life upon the fence,
None dead I know have come to me,
And said with any certainty,
To nail myself upon a cross,
Be born again, or join a Mosque;
Religion seems just gobbledygook,
I’m right, you’re wrong, in countless books,
Demons, devils, angels singing,
The pit, with pendulum swinging;
If I were God, I’d give a peek,
Let children see what life can wreak,
Pull the wool over sneaky Nick;
The devil has his share of tricks;
But who am I to say these things;
I’ve spent my life in selfish dreams,
Just because my bell has tolled,
And each breath I take is soured old,
Doesn’t lend me a hedge to bet,
What lies beyond my mortal death;
Too late, I haven’t seemed to grasp,
What formula to ever last;
Worst, I’ll be but seeping silage,
Left for bugs and worms to pillage,
Or, perhaps a greater power,
Will intervene at my last hour;
In either case, upon that night,
I shall go weary with a fight.
The stars both numb and inspire,
awe either enraptures or terrifies.
The word ‘infinite’ becomes a conjectural sum
to be defined by pundits in bow ties
and star-crazed, white coated messiahs.
Tilt your head back on a cloudless night
feel the cold mathematical anesthesia
of the infinitesimal, not anything fathomable,
not even a reckoning in an unsolvable puzzle;
a nonplus that breeds only more numbers
until like a train calculations runs out of rails
to travel upon.
Each mental abacus
must be pre-set for incomprehension
and that beyond the tyranny of numbers
we can, in the end, count only ourselves in
and that is by no-means certain.
blinkered by formal training
counting bright abacus beads of syllables
mindful not to step on cracks—
rhythm is everything
the audience c h e e r s !!!
the runner-up jeers—
maybe next time the nexus of …
the bows and brasses displayed
along with my bruises
an abacus of pearls
c.a.s.t
on
w a t e r
that drowns out the h-o-o-f-b-e-a-t-s of
a P O U N D I N G heart
a trace of desire
slated at the font
of knowledge
concurrent with my past
laurels
I bow to your discerning palate—
you clap for
REPETITION
repetition
r e p e t i t i o n
but I do not rest
unlike Keats
my NAME
is not
writ in
w a t e r …
As a child, he outlasted the nine-month process and lasted ten months within his mother's womb. Ten months inside made him different than us.
A child who was classified with brilliant mathematical skills.
Skills which are widely used by many others within our daily lives.
Life comes within numeral equations just as Albert explained within his theory with numbers.
Numbers are so common no one knows why
Perhaps If we all study it carefully, we'll know why
Every mathematical number has its explanation
finding an answer to every solution or problem
Maybe then we will know why.
Mathematics has many languages using alphabets and numbers
No one yet knows how mathematics came to be.
Only Einstein studied every possible solution; No one knows why.
Maybe with a team of mathematical geniuses, we can find out why.
They study harder than others, and we all know why.
They research to find answers and solutions to problems unanswered.
They ideal question is what is the mathematical answer.
Can you tell me how it came to be?
Do you know why Albert Einstein became such a brilliant man?
Maybe then we will all know
How and why math became to be!
Can you please tell me why math frustrates me?
Math frustrates me dearly, does it frustrate you as well?
Finding answers to solutions irritates me.
When A equals B What is the answer can you please tell me?
It's complicated to me.
Math is a numeral language difficult to understand.
Only mathematical geniuses know that numeral language
They can surely find out the answer for me.
Maybe the solution is somewhere within the problem.
Perhaps a mathematical genius can find it for me.
A calculator will not make it easier for me
Maybe an abacus can solve the problem for me.
Then I'll know the answer to the problem, because-
it would be less complicated for me.
Math is a figurative language too difficult to solve.
Only a genius can solve it for me.
Albert Einstein wrote it for me to see
Maybe another math genius can answer it for me.
The days I live all counted they must be
And so I move my beads along the lines
What makes this time have meaning so to me
Is YOU, my abacus that life defines
Your smile of love is captured in a bead
Which adds such joy as fingers make it glide
A touch, a kiss, a look fulfills each need
And multiplied are days in numbered guide
I know that soon all beads will reach that place
Where end to life is seen in empty beams
And so will end for me this time of grace
Your love no more to move my days and dreams
An abacus of life you’ve been to me
You’ve marked each moment and eternity
Jade
You can count on me
within a small frame.
As colors have a name,
you can count on me.
You can count on me
with a childlike ease.
By twos or by threes,
You can count on me.
You can count on me.
Take ahold of my beads.
For your counting needs,
you can count on me.
You can count on me
by fives or by tens.
You can count on your friends.
You can count on me.
Called meeting of Flat Earth Society
The Enclosed Earth theory must refute
As well Hollow Earth theory to dispute
and that dag nab round earth futility
It's clear as dirt we must confute
That old thingamajig gravity
Which with not our abacus compute
So how can we on an earth agree
Such a problem the enclosed earth theory,
Where we are all living in a Truman Show,
And of the hollow earth so very weary,
To this silliness in the trash throw.
Then all scientists and fools will flock
To see us clinging to this flatty rock.
Computers are around us everyday
Some help us, whilst others let us play
No matter our ages
They can put us in rages
As they carry on with their display
They have been here for many a year
Sumerian abacus, engineered
Even a textile loom
Made this business boom
Which brought us to the modern ones near
They come in all shapes and forms
In our lives, on our wrists their adorned
Even the time they can tell
From their chip like cell
When they work, it's great, they perform
So without them we'd be awfully lost
Although our tempers can become crossed
To them I'll never condemn
Terrific silicon gems
One day us humans will be bossed
Sweet Just the Way I Like It
you're a genius she moaned
there can only be so much money in circulation
he replied halfheartedly fingering her abacus
the moon arose sharp as a razor
and they set about creating a dynasty
a master race of thumb sucking idiots
that arose from the dead at midnight
with pretensions of divine right
she was a plump desert highway waitress
with a mile of sunny cleavage
a beckoning oasis of hope
to every butt sore trucker
he was a cadre from the Cro Magnon bloc
raised by the Sisters of Inchoate Ire
in a constant din of prayer
a model of pedagogical endurance
a time of war ravaged the land
the grip of the Dept. of Antiquities was strong
wizards made the oceans boil
mystics buskered the street corners
will work for the contemplation of food
a few actually knew something
but in practice were a bit too bent
by the wind blinded by repetition
to be true in the rigorous mortis sense
nothing to be done except perhaps
another detached from reality ******
now that the past was in hot pursuit
but the leibensborn are clever
and they were smuggled to safety
in boxes of radio parts
he picked up the Bardic Hour
on the Welsh Luftwaffe Network
she was wired to the 220 dryer circuit
and clicked through the channels
Gamble for Your Soul followed by
Ladies of Leisure followed by
Nearly Inaudible the game show
which asked the same question
if the picture is perfect is it changeable
this is how they ineluctably became
the enemy of both sides
the rim shots were deafening
but histrionics had worked in the past
you'd think we were defending against death
rather than a better data set
so it is with surface addiction
a searching modern art piece
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
My place,
My spot in this world,
Sitting in my chair,
At my yellow desk,
Looking over my plants,
My church,
And my home town,
Knitting needles left carelessly out,
A framed poem from my cousin,
An abacus with colorful beads,
A picture of my brother and I,
School papers and stories started are strewn across my desk,
Country music plays,
And an air conditioner hums in the background,
A globe from my uncle,
And a favorite hat sit on my desk as well,
Eighty-nine degrees at twenty minutes 'till eight pm,
It was a hot day,
I watch the trees barely fluttering in the wind across the street,
My cluttered desk,
Strewn with my papers,
And my room right next door,
My place in this world for now.
You, Man … Are The Angles
To My Curves
Hard and Sharp Corners
To My Circular-Swerves
You Are Exact
To My Abstract
You Are Algebra
To My Pre-School Math
You Are Calculus
To My Abacus
You Are The Chemical
To My Stimulus
You Are The Extra
To My Average
You Are The Multiply
To My Nothing Added
You Are Autonomy
To My Anatomy
You Are The Fractal
In My Infinity
You Are Geometry To Me:
You Are Steep Mountains
To My Mounds and Valley
You Are Raindrops In The Forest
To My Snow-Ballet
You Are Hot Desert Sands
To My Cold Ocean Waves
You Are The Mirage man
To My Love-Slave
You Are Dimension-Diamonds
To My Parallel-Pearls
You Are The Universe
To My World
You Are The Prism
To My Beam Of Light
and You Are The Days
Resting Upon My Nights …
And You Are Geometry To Me …
Geometry (?e?µet??a; geo = earth, metria = measure)
is a part of mathematics concerned with questions of size, shape,
and relative position of figures and with properties of space.
(uncountable) The branch of mathematics dealing with spatial relationships;
(countable) A type of geometry with particular properties;
Geometry is one of the oldest sciences. ...
Abacus yacht boats pleasy
Banana boats are queazy
Catamaran boats squeezy
Dinghy boats all out easy
Eagle Craft boats too cheesy
Fishing boats yet so breezy
Game boats crazy uneasy
Houseboats creepy sneezy
Inflatable boats fizzy
Jet boats so smokeeasy
Kayak boats much so creasy
Lifeboats namely are busy
Motor boats mainly teasy
Narrowboats are but woozy
Origami boats leasy
Pontoon boats namely weasy
Q-Ship boats likewise greasy
Rider boats rather wheezy
Sedan bridge boats are flimsy
Trawler boats just as queasy
U-boats notably dizzy
Vessel boats sure are squeasy
Wakeboard boats easy-peasy
Xebec boats rather frenzy
Yacht boats are indeed sleazy
Zille fish boats funny fuzzy
Teacher
My teacher
When I bow before u I feel --
I bow before my parents
I kneel before God
And your hands like friends
Soon lift me;
So living and so moving a force
Browsing and exploring me
You compute me
I grow like a computer
From abacus to mainframe
To guard
The space, surface and sea
You are indeed
My
Charles Babbage
Without you
I am a body without soul
Like a monitor without CPU
I bow before you
Bow before you infinitely
Like www.