Best Computation Poems
One day I decided to aggregate what I own
Realizing soon enough I couldn't count it all,
Though I never thought I had all that much
What I had was oddly beyond simple math.
Determined I was to know what I'm worth
And I knew the formula for how that works
So I added all assets and deducted liabilities
Yet, never could I derive the right answer.
My assets were tangible, so easy to add up
But when I thought of lives I had touched
And receipt of generosity they bestowed,
I could not appraise the value of their love.
Swiftly I subtracted what I owed to others
Feeling proud of self for I didn't owe much
Till I took account of much that was given
Not expecting from me anything in return.
When I finally accepted futility of my effort
My worth resembled faces of my loved ones,
Not susceptible to any numeric computation
Well beyond the bounds of ordinary cognition.
January 3, 2019
Placed 2nd in Food for thought poetry contest by Silent One
Categories:
computation, perspective,
Form:
Verse
Every time I remembered a tiny fraction of
Mathematics, there would always be some
Monstrous mathematical computation waiting
To fight me. Yeah, math was the worse BULLY.
THOUSANDS more steps a few formulars, obliaques,
Diagonals, parallelograms.
Often times my mind would just come apart at the
Seams. I thought I might as well day dream.
No way out!! There was definitely shame to my
Aim.
I haven't even memorized the amount of coins in
My pocket!!
I had the CURSE.
I had it worse!
At first I thought it was only I with such a
Deep seeded rebellion toward math.
Then I searched the room and found
Vacant stares.
There was definitely a LUMP IN MY SLUMP.
I didn't want to share my AGGRAVATION.
I WAS thoroughly RUNNING diagonals
Straight into a brick wall of MATHEMATICAL
PHOBIA.
Other wise this doesn't add up at all. Time
And time I assured myself I had mastered it.
This wasn't the confusing
UNIVERSE I thought , thousands of
Confusing steps anticipated my arrival.
There I was DESTINED for a mathless liveable LIFE.
I had concluded it wasn't my cue.
It simply wasn't one of my values.
Now, I stand.
With VALUABLE VALOR.
YES, A SAVORY BRAVERY
MY mathlessness.
A mathless WORLD OF MY OWN.
MY LAST MATHEMATICAL. THOUGHT
I MIGHT NOT BE ALONE, I AM NOT
ONE BUT MORE!!
Categories:
computation, bullying, deep, math, passion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
If anyone is impatient, by chance or choice,
Or too impatient to read my poems,
S/he must read this poem—at any rate!
Hopkins once heckled God:
“Why do sinners’ ways prosper?”
And did not stay for an answer!
The answer is:
Sinners, whether saboteurs, burglars, assassins,
Or any other characters of their ilk,
Seem to exercise far greater patience
Than virtuous humans!
Murderers are an exception,
Notorious for their impatience—
By courtesy of Daniel Goleman!
What is patience?
A deceptively simple question.
The dictionary equates it with waiting,
Putting up with annoyance,
And also associates it with work.
Its opposite is impatience,
Whose synonym is haste;
And its symptom restlessness.
Patience may be regarded as a frame of mind
(Based of course on some personal philosophy)
In which to wait and or work:
The spider is exemplary in both these senses.
Instances of waiting are aplenty:
Waiting for solution, resolution, results, etc.
But what do we do in the meantime?
Only patience and positiveness can tell us.
For Michelangelo, as for Newton,
Patience meant work,
Working presumably against odds
And towards perfection,
Which, in Gandhi’s idiom, is karma.
Work, then, becomes pleasure.
But waiting endlessly, eternally
(For whatever it may be)
Is something inconceivable, at any rate,
In God’s scheme of things.
Surely, there is some mistake—
Maybe in perception,
Or interpretation or computation.
God may be subtle, as admitted by Einstein,
But could never be wicked—as Satan was!
Categories:
computation, philosophy, psychological, religious,
Form:
Free verse
Yellow chard stain index finger smears my logic puzzle,
Sour cream cilantro splatter quite the quaint “addition”
juicy brain pump lemon zest solution that I guzzle,
number crunching sea salt a spur to intuition
Roasted sweet potato has me snapping at the grid
toting up those lettuce layer 3 by 3 cells
carrot colour pencil point to “whisk” the sums I did
geometric square outside a salad bowl that gels
With mango stone eraser I can sculpt another route
Imagine all those French bean digits driving me insane
kidney bean ensemble sighs “give that row the boot.”
I sniff balsamic vinegar to make quick fixes plain
Sudoku trail incumbent has fresh basil hint in mind
while churning sumptuous avocado neuron cell alert
feasting off that figure fetish nutrient aligned
“You’ll crack this with some bamboo shoot” an Einstein voice might blurt
Basic rule of algorithm leads to Asian aniseed
Check online for symbolic totals, those grains that raise the stakes
rabbit food as tummy loaded “combo” itching to succeed
but one should pause awhile on computation,
for cayenne flavour breaks
Heuristically I dribble walnut fractions on a page
footnote to some taco leaf conundrum
Interlocking data cuts the mustard as we age
Another beetroot slice and cryptic teaser warding
off the boredom
NB I have an acquired expertise with regard to Sudoku
logic puzzles. But I also like to cook.
The nutrients sustain my Sudoku efforts.
Categories:
computation, creation, food, imagery, science,
Form:
Rhyme
Does anyone know the computation for emotional debts unpaid?
Does anyone make a tourniquet for emotional first aid?
Who makes the rules about emotions that should be displayed?
The scales of my thoughts feel these things must be weighed
These questions left unanswered could lead to rot and jade
Perhaps the most difficult is realizing emotions have been played
Categories:
computation, angst, betrayal, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Monorhyme
nought
and one
binary
computation
input then process then store and output
digital society foundation
dependency
increasing
good and
bad
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*3rd Place* Tetractys Contest Nov 2023
Sponsored by: Ink Empress
Categories:
computation, computer, math, society,
Form:
Tetractys
How can you hide, from the all-seeing eyes!
How can you fight, a spirit that never dies!
What makes you think, you can freeze the sun!
Whoever told you, you're the almighty one!
How can you hold weight, when you're so hollow!
Who said you can erase, your own shadow!
What makes you think, you can shake the unshakable!
Who gave you the power, to be incredible!
How can you live, with the wrong computation!
Why not ask God, for the right equation!
Why not take your time, quit living too fast!
Why dwell on your troubles, that will never last!
How can you gain, if you refuse to give!
How can you kill, and you fighting to live!
Why shouldn't you get burned, playing with fire!
Why shouldn't you drown, in your lustful desire!
How can you love the invisible, and hate visible men!
Why shouldn't you get mawed, wrestling with lion!
Whoever told you, zero and zero is one!
How can you proceed, with your math undone!
Who made you omniscience, a know-it-all!
Who gave you the crutch, to break your fall!
How can you think, robbing God is okay!
Who said if you give, blessing's not your pay!
Categories:
computation, imagination, life, religion, song-
Form:
Quatrain
You used to have power over me
You used to have power over me
Seeing your face pleased
Was all that'd let my mind be
Jobs and relationships once so consistent
Loyalty and honesty have floated into the distance
Is it just aging
Doesn't seem like the world should be changing
In this direction
Droughts of affection with floods of computation
Robocop evaluates your ritzy neighborhood
Gangsters regain their territory in the hood
Always thought by now life would be a dream
World is a pair of pants ripping apart at the seams
Looking into a politicians eye
There's just a blood splattered lie
Why on earth should I vote
I'll just shop elsewhere and let your funding company die
I understand I look young,
You have no idea what I've done
Talk to me like an adult
Those gestures and expressions are an insult
Just because I have no child
Doesn't make my emotions mild
Doesn't mean I don't have problems
I don't whine, I find ways to solve them
Don't assume because I don't have a degree
That I'm not a pedigree
A degree means you can follow rules and deadlines
You can use a crayola and stay within the lines
Tap your head...
Think for a second
All this money later
Is this the best way to thank your creator?
To get a job for a major company
That sooner than later will dump you and destroy
Your dreams and want you to change your values
Where work is more important than family?
Not exactly!
Your doubt in me is coming out of your pours.
Flush your ego, Try to jump that hurdle of yours
Oh wait, need a book?
Flip to page nine
Tells you you've kicked your own behind
Categories:
computation, anger, judgement, life, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Aimless wandering beings
Arms flailing reaching out to touch
feeling no one in reach
isolated pedestrians seeking affection
disconnected lack of eye contact
Seeing no one peripherally...
A sea of souls knowing more each day
forgetting everything else
information trumping wisdom
Compassion overshadowed by Computation
Each byte bites into the fabric
A tattered tapestry left hanging
Rare human-like beings peek through
Wanting tangible exchanges of communication
Exhaling shallow, careful for smog intake
We've made everyday Halloween
Highlighting and Sensationalized...
Terrified of those we don't know
Expanding the gap, alienating...alone
Community was our protection...now stolen
In locked homes peering out, guarded
Neighbors-strangers...shaking with guns
No one safe from the dangers at home!
Intelligence rises...yet we refuse to evolve
Using our fears, insecurities, and prejudice
to hamper the progress of our young
Technology is no surrogate Parent
Using repressive dishonest methods of yesterday
only degenerates the trust of highly informed children
Our hope is in teaching them
where we failed
When we missed
what we forgot
....Transcending the hatreds, and biases
applying the accrued knowledge
to one day
mentally and spiritually
EVOLVE!!
Simultaneously progressing/digressing
Gaining in Ability, losing in Humanity
Our Children will succeed where we could not...
Categories:
computation, inspirational, philosophy
Form:
Free verse
Looking back helplessly
at every foible like Epimetheus.
Born like a weed in the steamy morning,
I was an aimless crude creature spinning
flamboyant cobwebs like a confident fool.
I slathered prismatic patterns, grinning like a jester.
Then, civilization impounded the measures of my dreams.
I became an embarrassed lying chowderhead concealing
my crayons.
I lacked language, locution or parlance.
I sat absent, a prisoner in rote computation.
My night dreams merged with day-dreams.
My solo island became a continent.
I tried phoning out with phony phonetic fumbles
but everyone could see.
So I slipped away, deserting, fleeing,
riding the rails in boxcars.
My passage through nocturnal town and village
untraceable, uncertain, preoccupied with the pigments
of my polyscope.
Later I reappeared, reconsidered and revised,
replicating the decorations of acuity, imitating
profundity like P. T. Barnum.
My spectacle drew crowds until I was discovered.
My retreat and retraction now heavy with
fatigue, I know not the lens of my psyche.
In sobriety, I recall all my splinters and ruptures.
But my rearranged reissues of adornments
will persist until I am expelled.
Published: The Opiate Journal, July 2020
Categories:
computation, allusion, imagery, introspection, myth,
Form:
Free verse
Seek while you may find, strength of cerebral cortex.
'Though shrouded in complexities, higher minds advance to next.
Con folks par exellence, exorcising painful memories.
Enabling state of elightenment, a projection of ideas.
Dragging weaklings to their graves, an ego-boosting sacrafice.
Failure to exercise faith, irony of premature demise.
Consider the Scriptures, ample madness run to and fro.
Knowledge is now increased, clear way for fatal blow.
Open your blinded eyes, see the holies' scatterin' power.
Wicked understands not, but wise realize the imminent hour.
Wicked adds on wickedness, cause to purify thyself in white.
Time and time half, words now opened for light.
Standing angelic beings, the likes of Michael the archangel.
Madness of so-called great minds, moving with bubbling trouble.
Concern yourself not, with those sleeping in the dust.
For the scare's more horrid, with the living blood-lust.
Call upon divine wisdom, shine as bright firmament.
Turn ample righteous as stars, escape the everlasting contempt.
Obsessive megalomaniacs, prophesying fire and brimstone.
Mentally challenged fools, the likes of Jim Jones.
Fast-moving celest' object, associates in lore.
Akin to doom and destruction, fate in jeopardy twice more.
The world has yet to witness, the great mind-bogglin'.
Abomination makes desolate, thousand and three-plus timing!
Categories:
computation, song-lyric
Form:
Quatrain
@alons, ce sera pour la derniere fois@
Sophie Blanchard 1819
a metaphor of the sea sings no music,
no swell here, to swing the stern;
nor any pressure to float a kite:
there is no 'flight' to the moon,
no wing can carry me.
At the birth of Napoleon's son I lifted
from the Champ de Mars, and from the basket scattered
a shower of papers to proclaim the birth.
clearing steeple and tree top, opening
a passage into airless geometry
where faith is translated to trajectory,
buoyancy, computation;
weight against lift; gravity versus
the pull of elsewhere.
tilt of a wickerwork floor,
creak of a cable; the flake of my dry lips
at travel's very limit: so vast the distance
that if I raised a finger behind it would vanish
the whole blue jewel of the Earth:
fireflies on an evening porch; a curtain sailing
at a summer window;
my mother bending to her linens, the remembrance of a smile
creased in her skin.
I am on the edge of the sky; I feel excellent,
my eyes filed with moonclouds, and the dark seas.
I am beginning to move away.
Sophie Blanchard, Aeronaut (1778 - 1819)
Categories:
computation, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
Collateral Damage
Leaving, deceiving and unjust, whom do you trust. Is it a must? To want to be
Alone
Shown the way. Day by day, sun up, night-by-night moon struck, hour-by-hour no time.
Climbing the tower to reach the power.
Shall I remain, shall you remain, ordain. Then you came, taking aim at all that exist.
Did I make the list? Pumping my fist, to the sounds that surround. Moving the crowd, shrouded by the flames of hell, nothing went well. Stale to the touch of another. Matrix filled computation. Running for the door without hesitation. Your emancipation of dreams escapes anticipation, failed on all creation. In wake, of things that have become,
This unforgiving
Take over!
Looking through the mirror, but the mirror looks back. Yet, there is no reflection that I can see.
Twisted bent from the inside out, of the room, close quarters.
Get Away!
Get Out! Get Out!
Now!
Erie quite dreary
Lost focus, tick, tick, tock, and boom!
Back up we need room
Just breath, how intense?
Dense feeling,
Choking over the smoke.
Toting away any guilty pleasure
For the treasure is lost.
We all knew the cost, yet we go onward, to nowhere.
Fading into the shadows, of another wasteful surrender of
Collateral Damage
Darius H.
June 23, 2017
Categories:
computation, abuse, anger, betrayal, change,
Form:
Light Verse
No, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred;
you still rail against the masters of cruel, crazy wars
that left thousands of our brave youth abroad dead;
you still roar at the inept occupying city hall sinecures,
and with your own meticulous counter-computation,
you tax the tax-men with angry taxpayers' signatures;
I still hear you snarl at every phony insurance agent,
and expose the shady tricks of any pious cheat
who sounds polite, but with dark motives irreverent;
you fume over some military madness you just read
and lambast each education department egghead,
no, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred !
Categories:
computation, life, people, social, education,
Form:
Terza Rima
Its beauty lies in symmetry
An exactness of natural harmony
In particles of these variables.
Composed of possibility.
A slope made from just a touch
Seen in this, an altered form,
Found using a point given,
There is unique serenity in such.
Curves that flow in one direction
Or test limits of reality
In places considered undefined
In the course of numerical selection.
A chain of Independence
That implies continuity
In an equation made for two,
Shows the equality of this dance.
An overwhelming feeling, aha, exhilaration.
I have for higher mathematical computation.
Categories:
computation, education, science,
Form: