Best Coordinate Poems
When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.
I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.
When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.
First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.
Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.
I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.
Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.
Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.
Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.
We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?
Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.
Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.
The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the many blessings that You have bestowed upon me, especially the affection for music and for the abundant joy that it has brought me throughout all the years of my life.
May this musical offering be pleasing to You and may it make Your heart glad, for it is with tender love and simple adoration that I now give back to You that which You have so graciously given to me to begin with.
May I never take this blessing nor any of Your blessings for granted or in any way think that I had anything to do with the possession of them, for it is only by Your good pleasure that I have any talent or ability to realize the desires of my heart at all.
I acknowledge that I am simply the vessel through which You have allowed these melodies to flow and it is my utmost desire to use them now in praise, worship, and thanksgiving to You.
May those who would hear this music be blessed.
May these notes strike a chord that resonates down into the deepest parts of their souls.
May the Holy Spirit orchestrate, manifest, and cultivate in them a burning desire to know You if they don’t already, and if they do, to know You better.
I humbly ask that You would coordinate my spirit, soul, and body so as to be in perfect harmony; that You would guide my hands to faithfully execute and deliver this composition of gratitude and appreciation, and that through them You would be honored and glorified.
In assurance of faith, unwavering, in accordance with Your will and by the power of the Holy Spirit, I ask these things in and through Jesus’ name, Amen.
Dear strong, mysterious Mr. Richter,
I have adored you all semester.
It's all about the way you say "cosign"
and the command you give to busy equations.
You keep those numbers all in line,
as if any one could give dissuasions.
With exponent passion you draw me in,
a mathematician first, then a teacher.
Each number's a friend, a neighbor, a kin.
Each student is a math-munching creature.
You couple denominators, strong and alike,
a prismic marriage of commonality,
then suddenly you divide them like
a Shakespearean tragedy.
Then you flip-flop like common weather,
and in a calm numerical tangent,
you bring those digits back together
like a quadrilateral sonnet.
Your rhombus eyes, like tigers animate
when you say the word "perpendicular."
Could you say you'd ask me for a date,
anywhere logarithmic, but I'm not particular.
Take me away on a coordinate plane,
parallel to a median integer
with stem-and-leaf plot as the terrain,
and a commutative property perimeter.
I can offer admiration and a laugh,
just teach me how to use a protractor.
Of all the variables on a bar graph,
we are the greatest common factor.
A is for algebra, where numbers are represented by letters
B is for base, a base ten number system is much better
C is for circle, it goes round and round
D is for degree, in a circle, 360 are found
E is for equation, an assertion of the equality of two expressions
F is for fraction, it's the ratio of two expressions
G is for graph, a diagram showing the relationship betwen two numbers
H is for hypotenuse, a triangle's longest side, easy to remember
I is for integer, positive or negative numbers that are whole
J is for justification, proof of a solution, so I'm told
K is for kilometer, that's almost a mile
L is for line, it has one dimension and can go on for a while
M is for median, the most common value in a group
N is for numerator, its the top number in a fraction, like a hoop
O is for octagon, the number of sides are eight
P is for pentagon, it has five sides and that's great
Q is for quotient, the result of a division
R is for ratio, the relationship between two expressions
S is for square, with equal sides of four
T is for triangle, it has three sides, no more
U is for unit, a standardized quantity
V is for volume, the quantity of a three dimensional entity
W is for whole number of which there are a lot
X is for x- axis, the horizontal axis for coordinates , a plot
Y is for y- axis, the vertical axis a coordinate system brings
Z is for zero , it's not even one thing
We talked about fractions. circles, and squares
Next, we'll explore lions, tigers, and bears
A cacophony of cheers
Sand sprays like fireworks
From feet, hands, ball, hair.
Four women, two-a-side,
In a battle for the ages.
A motion of fluidity and a
Knowledge brought forth
From years in the fray.
Sun, rain, the elements,
Just more adversaries
In a long procession of
Combatants put asunder
By their clear dominance
Of a gritty game of volleys.
The Americans had few
Times met with struggle
Along their long journey
Toward the gilded yellow
Badge of Olympic honor,
But this night the glint in
The eye, the coordinate
Movements of limbs and
Lengths and deliberations,
The perfection of intents
And wiles and exertions,
Would not birth triumph,
But instead place a bitter
Pill flat on their tongues.
But such is the bare truth
Of warfare, and such is
The coming of wisdom ...
For without that sour taste
And constricting swallow,
We have no estimation
Of the finer, sweeter things
That the battlements of
Life hold within their walls.
Gold knows no favorite,
Nor does it gleam in the
Eyes of the fortunate only.
Momentum true is the key
And this night it flowed
For the sake of those
Whose feet knew this
Beach as their own ...
Who felt their home and
Peoples and affinities all
In the grainy coursing of
Cold granules underfoot,
And sometimes, when
The heart has the peace
Of its OWN around it, that's
All the difference needed.
But character outshines
The most precious ores,
And in that bold and true
Respect, our wonderfully
Beautiful and courageous
Girls of Stars and Stripes,
Shall ALWAYS stand at
The top of the podium,
And the anthem of our
Appreciation and pride
Will always play in their
Ears ...
We love you, Kerri
Walsh Jennings and April
Ross, and you are, without
Question or argument,
The very BEST.
He was a man of no name or personality
but a dot within dots on a graph
yet, the point of a plane surface he occupied
was the very edge of -3 sigma on a normal curve
or coordinate Y<0.1 : X<0.1 position on the wide plane,
so insignificant that hardly he was noticed in anyone’s eyes.
His assigned number for a statistical purpose was 2,
nevertheless, there was no hidden or specific meaning to it,
merely an administrative purpose; it was just like a number
assigned to an inmate whose individuality or characteristics
were totally deprived.
Number 2, when multiplied with infinity indefinitely
grew a pair of wings on his back,
the 2 flew away somewhere no one knows
where it may be, flapping his huge wings.
Watching Homer struggle
to explain how a god wounded by a mortal
cannot die but may hereafter live with minor pain
and the humor when that god
complains to Jove that His supervision of His daughter
is inadequate and His Love too unconditional
while Diomed (or Tydides)
wreaks havoc on the Trojans and Hector
gives it back (in kind)
anatomically correct descriptions
of spears piercing jawbones (and groins)
sons without fathers hunting and fishing thereafter
alone. Written
amazingly presciently!
as a metaphor for Vietnam (our war)
forgotten consensually
as this generation slips lazily away
to Hades (or kayaks to the huckleberries)
where the lights are always blue, gentian actually,
supper's served at 4 and former adversaries
pass the heavy hanging time playing pinochle (and pool).
We're selling the house to pay the taxes.
Pallas Athena wars among the men
from the axle of her chariot
and Venus is injured by Diomed,
standing in the field of battle where she never should have been,
in her adorable hand.
What has this to do with Solomon in jail.
Not the Jewish king, a black American male,
same thing.
Your children can be failed at school and marched to war.
You can be taxed and sent to gaol for the honor of it.
anyone lived in a pretty how town.
We have no obligation
to perform the Iliad or read poems and even Homer
considers Achilles effete (compared to Hector)
and Odysseus is wrong even when he's right.
Therefore, modern man explores
the mathematics of circles in coordinate planes and their tangents
when (sooner or later)
the secret of warp speed is discovered
expansion of the species will be limitless and permanent.
OKTOBERFEST
Wielding the power of the hefty beer stein,
Energized with viking-like biceps,
We lift the suds in veneration
In front of our patriotic hearts.
Lively band plays Ein Prosit,
Lips coordinate, resounding louder and louder.
Parade of dirndls and lederhosen -
Amorous couples enjoying Bavarian dance,
Resplendent in reddened faces -
Tapping, turning, with joyful
Yearning, as the oak and maple
Leaves change their costumes, and
Interrupt the Summer’s warmth.
Kamikaze arms tire, dropping their steins, while
Everyone laughs and cheers.
Tables set for a feast of Black Forest
Hams, Potato pancakes, creamy sauerkraut.
Empty stomachs applaud, then quake at the sight of
Rouladin, a savory favorite of flattened beef
Elegantly rolled up with bacon, vegetables, and
Sumptuous pickles. Tantalized tongues ooh and ahh.
None will be left, yet the festival lasts, supplying us with
October’s sensate salted pretzels, a mouth-watering
Treat. Need to down another beer
Or two or three…I’ve lost count!
Memories made on this chilly day,
Ornaments of cuckoo clocks and steins bought for
Remembrance will be hung from December firs.
Robotic we stare, eyes and ears filled with sights and sounds:
Oktoberfest is in the air and,
We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow!
10/13/2016
Those go to Goa who are due
And wired like you and a little screwed,
And inclined to obesity -
Explorers of electricity
The ground smells rich with leaves of tea,
Your footprint on the beach is a seal.
Silence seminar's aimed, weaved
Just for those who were summoned to plead.
Such a coordinate system
Where east is west and where north is south.
Lime, grapes, pomegranate - here listen! -
Are creating inside you a mouth.
My height determines the shadow,
Pulse is dictating shore break with shells.
Today is that day of mellow
When you are finally born as self.
Here you go, an alphabet, dear
And here you go - a whole new planet.
God's pretending he never met
You and that He is not in fact here.
Looking out upon my garden on spring morning
dew on grass, new shoots appearing natures best
daffodils, tulips, primrose, beautiful new life dawning
pollinators emerge collecting pollen after winter rest
evergreens coordinate with shade loving flowers
finding shelter in herbaceous borders, glorious
thoughts, aromas, wildlife reproducing new life
shafts of light creating shadows, expecting showers
seasons of change, pleasant celestial rays notorious
for encouraging wonderful blooms and loosestrife,
my old garden swing so inviting, comfortable perch
to rest my weary bones upon while my eyes delight
at natures wonders, shaded by my giant silver birch
potted Japanese acer so elegant sweetness and light
return of perennials as Mother Earth becomes warmer
sweet smelling Lavender, colourful penstemon,
sun loving helenium, gorgeous variegated geraniums
bursting into life invigorating garden transformer
rainbows of colour from blues yellows to salmon
old English roses perfume able to fill stadiums
so joyful now my garden is in bloom colourful and bright
with aromas from honeysuckle and Jasmine at night.
Composed on 02/04/2017.
Contest ode to flowers.
As you read this poem, I’m mentally undressing you.
Word by word your protests drop to the floor.
Syllable by syllable I pare you down to honest flesh.
Utterance by utterance, your secrets are revealed
Until you’re nude, standing before me
Natural and unembellished, so you can truly appreciate
The intense sincerity of my words.
Then I’ll softly stroke your personal pronouns
And delicately fondle all your feminine articles.
I’ll take a most teasing interest in your superlative adjectives.
And for your pleasure, I’ll lovingly coordinate your conjunctions.
My linguistic interlocution will then slowly, slowly, slowly
Coax your previously in-transitive verbs to thrill
To multiple, unutterably intense and delicious
Spasms of orgasmic literary ecstasy!!!
And that’s just the table of contents.
P.S. Always practice safe text.
1. When Satan was an Angel:
He discovered fault finding easy in the Heavenly Society.
No reason to put forth an effort to improve,
Just dis.
2. When the Sky-Boss wasn't around
He would slip memos to hes fellow workers,
"There is no union,
Nothing to coordinate the wants of the Winged Servants.
3. He claimed the Heavenly Chorus sang off key:
And sounded like it was suffering
From a case of group herpes.
4. He reminded everyone:
As often as possible,
That the Holy He created women as a lesser species,
:After all, Eve did come along as a side issue."
5. Wherever God asked,
"Are you working?"
Mr. D. would always answer in the affirmative,
Gut, his task was too often centered on group diffusion.
6. The final straw in his disposition:
Occurred after he had constantly complained to the Almighty
That the thermostat was set too low,
"I can't stand the cold up here! Why don't you do something about it!:
I'm a blue collar worker who works outdoors
and I'm also required to wear a hard hat all day.
My exposed skin and face tan at a very fast pace,
but beneath that hard hat, absolutely no way.
The last time I went bandanna free,
someone got distracted, lost their footing and tripped.
All I heard as I fled the scene was, "Did you see that human Q-tip?"
In addition to speaking in rhyme, I dress in black all the time
but that shouldn't reflect upon my personality.
I just claim not to be so great when I attempt to color coordinate
but the simple truth is black is safe and I'm just lazy.
I live the single lifestyle and by that I simply mean that I have chosen to live alone.
I enjoy True Solitude, so I don't share living quarters very well.
My home has to be My Home.
I keep mostly to myself but that shouldn't suggest that I can't be the life of the party.
Back in my day I wore many a lampshade.
Now I've calmed down. I don't party too hearty.
Well, enough about me. What about you?
What are your interests, your passions?
What do You like to do?
Who knows where this might go or how it might end.
At the very least, I Hope to find A Real and True Friend.
Oh yeah, one last thing I need to mention to you.
A little sex from you also would be very nice too.
I was doing very well. I was doing just fine
and then I had to blow it with the very last line.
Am I right ladies? Damnit!
****************************************************************************
Please do not respond to the above ad ladies. It is now null and void. I pretty much live the
life of a hermit these days.
****************************************************************************
What is the formula of love?
Is it written on a woman's lip
Or hidden within a man's thought cause
Some relationships are like coordinate and plane geometries
While others are advance differential calculus, it is full of mystery and clouded by major and minor characters
Some lovers are like "X" and "Y",
Blend together thoroughly in a simultaneous equation,
Deservingly giving birth to a positive or a negative number
Some words behave like fraction
Gently taking part of a whole in someone's life
But it is either proper, improper, like, unlike, or complex
Some kisses appear like trigonometry
Determining an unknown angle or side
With the ideas of Pythagoras
Some relationships are arithmetic
Addition means to add
Subtraction means to take away,
Division to divide and multiplication to times
Though life is a library of many experiences,
But how can "Love" be defined,
Is it the compilation of feelings through written notes or words
Who knows whence the measurement
of time came about, though this chap
proposes the following general happen
stance. Perhaps psalm body named Judas
Priest arranged to congregate, but cohorts
restless (sans Quiet Riot), did Accept
a Mercyful Fate asper their Iron Maiden pact,
but needed to reassure doubting Tom us
(a petty detail), how to coordinate self
anointed Black Sabbath. An Idol Billy
Graham proposed a resolution (this
coincidentally enough would be calculated,
figured, and interpolated vis a vis
to happen on New Years Eve circa
unknown when. Some metal-heads
put their Smashface together, and contrived
a crude modus operandi, which in
vol vid each musician to crank up
and amplify to the max his instrument of choice.
No matter distance extant between
closest and farthest member, would be
barely faintly heard. The era re: these
bit players didst dabble with primitive
chronometers comprised hamlets a mere
shouting distance apart. Once a quasi
reliant (and affordable) methodology
evolved, one singer songwriter
upped the (space/time quantum theory)
ante by conniving, fostering (the village
people), inviting live onstage performances.
Quite a bit of fancy free footloose gimcrackery
reckoned to be sale-able to sell at audiences,
thus drawing a Crowded House. None
the less, there remained the confounding,
irksome, pesky quandary sans figuring precision
concerning how to segment morning
to night cycle. Perhaps the town nerd
might own the (get) smarts to tinker
satisfactorily until...PRESTO! The purported
impossible mission solved with refinement
propelling one geek after the other into
the klieg lights if only for a blink of an eye!