Best Diagrams Poems
I am teetering at the brim of progress
The self I spend to be of worth
Is the same self that I had to earn
And to what end?
I ask,
At what fee?
The ones that stand down do so for free
And all that’s left is work for me
(Fr ,
PdV)
I hauled up, masochistic Sisyphus
All they did was balk
Scatter, Jack and Jill
Emptily talk
About how hard, how far
Never
I could not
And then for an instant I was on top
[King parenthetical]
They stood with their calculators
Screaming
But negative RTlnKeq ???
Kb T times ln W ???
Enthalpy minus T entropy,
Gives us the standard energy ???
I saw the people finally sap
It was halfway forward to halfway back
I felt something snap
And I fell unfathomably far
To a different bottom
A different problem
I stood intermediate at the foot of the unknown
Before a taller peak to dethrone
--
Note: Gibbs Free Energy (delta G) is a thermodynamic parameter used to describe reactions and stability in chemistry. It is common to see a diagram of delta G vs. reaction progress. These free energy diagrams consist of continuous curves with peaks and troughs. The lower the energy, the more stable.
Unfortunately you have to have significant background knowledge in chemistry to understand every reference.
We've all got a brain, you know
Though it cannot quite be seen
It stays imprisoned within our skulls
To be heard, it's very keen
It often finds it's way outdoors
Through our toothed facial channel.
It plans a detour, when our lenses spot
An approaching academic tunnel
But, what does a brain look like?
I often sit and ponder.
How does it feel within our skull?
How does it taste, I wonder!
So I went to ask my mama
"How does a brain look?"
She said, she would show it to me
But then, pulled out a book
She showed me all the diagrams
And read all the relevant text
Explained to me bit by bit
Assuming, I was interested
Cerebral cortex and cerebellum
And all the labelled lobes
Muscles movements and memories
A place for maths, a place for hopes
To her dismay, I spilled the beans,
"That's not quite what I wanted,
I intended to see a brain hands-on
But, thanks for what you imparted."
"I think I've quite understood
The functions this book explains",
I informed mama with a smile,
"My one question, but, remains"
"What is it, my dear one?
Let's work it through together"
"What does a brain taste like, mama?
I solemnly wonder"
Like a frozen deer in headlights,
She stared at me bewildered!
Her ears vented invisible steam
And in gravest tone, she whispered,
"How do you declare to know not
The taste of human brain?"
In countless portions, you chew my harns
Yet you dare to pose this claim?!"
The last plasma puff of the engine invites them out
Of the vessel, wearing refrigerated high-tech suits
Equipped complete with claw-like studs gripping cracked grout,
Fighting for balance against the gusts in their pursuit.
Tsal pulls out the holo-tablet to map their position
And consult the travel plan. The air crackles to life
At the rod in his hand's and the one on his chest's intersection
Showing in script and diagrams what once was humanity's hive.
A step on a fish bone draws a snap which pulls
His eyes downwards then around the oily dirty landscape
Where lay more bones from different creatures whose lives were culled
By a slow death they'd tried in vain to escape,
Probably the last of each of their species to have braved heat,
Thinning air, toxins in solid, liquid and gas form everywhere.
Tsal thought of who'd ate whom last at the eve of total defeat
As lives became meatless skeletons after plants had left here.
Ok! Back to finding the once supreme masters of this rock
Who built the cranes surrounding this now barren and dry seabed,
As if adorning the grave of many a beast. With some luck,
The image in his hand lights red as it hovers over a broken bone head.
(c) Nyonglema
Let's all go out and support Earth Hour on 28th March 2015 and yearly!...let's make this silence of whirrs and buzzes a little LOUDER.
What's in a Name?
by Preston Hill
The Sun gives birth to dawn. We meet for the first time. We introduce. What’s your name?
We chat respectfully- all the while the sun continues to rise.
To think that once long ago in the cradle of humankind an idea sparked knowledge.
Testing, poking, prodding the mind, pushing thought into expression.
What was then an idea to be spoken was finally written down.
Pictograms on cave walls, diagrams of the hunt, the battle.
Pictograms on clay pots depicting commerce from a life long ago.
Pictograms on parchments that develop shapes, gestating onward to the formation of letters, words, ideas.
Of contracts, agreements, mortgages, governments, constitutions, proclamations.
Pictograms on chalkboards, blackboards, whiteboards on which an idea will be conveyed.
And children learn, apprentices advance, executives and politicians chart budgets and trends.
Pictograms on buildings, bridge abutments, railway cars declaring “This place is ours”.
And as ideas spread so did humankind. Wars and peacetime. Love and hate. Dignity and honor.
All emotion within passed from one generation to the next as the sun climbs higher in the sky.
And on one small piece of ground a family, a clan, a tribe, a village began to grow giving titles to their neighbors in relation to their geography.
Mr. Rock, Mr. Hill, Mr. Rivers greeted with a jaunty wave of the hand.
Then John had a son. Then Samuel had a son. Then Lars had a son.
Yearning for identity, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Smith and Mr. Baker began to teach their trades and build a future, contributing to the economy and serving others.
Soon, the village grew into a town, the town into a city. Nations and states formed and families, clans, tribes and cultures pooled together with separate and distinct idiosyncrasies.
In every language and aspect ideas spread, carrying seeds from the beginning.
Leaving their expectations, hopes, fears and dreams imprinted on the pages of history.
And as the sun reaches its apex, I look at my watch. You ask me, “What’s in a name?”.
I reply, “The world”, then smile politely and change the subject.
Let me tell you
Let me tell you one truth
The vastness of infinity is fathom less
But one wonderful matter to win this
Poets' knowledge is beyond case
That is why that their pens ride and run
To catch easily even black hole's speed
No escape from their diagrams
As if universe contracts
Volume to volume, epic to epic
Their pens flow to dry ink
A case of thought and
Limitless boundary leaves ideas of blinks
They have measured the world
Many more have won entering into
Hearts of people remain saluting poets
Pouring honours and rewards more and more
Some describe poor they are
Poets' peripheries are within close area
It is not truth to gauge them like this
They are very sincere and honest in whole era
If they would have ruled the world
There might have borne peace and bliss
Because the nature proofs this perfectly
As the seed so the reap
The treasury would have been full
Nature would have exploited for real development
Distribution of facilities would mean equal
Not discriminating for poor to down fall
Demons will die god will be pleased
People will feel calm and happy
Living in one birth place for life
Women will be worshipped as real goddess
Only poets can trace the genuine pace
Of space and full nature's job without hurt
A steel and dynamic love
To all, always, let me tell you this as a poet.
I could not afford a Bow Flex, costs too much
I get diagrams to build my own from a man named Henry Clutch
The instructions say if I build it right
It will make me lean and my stomach tight
The first step, according to the instructions, is to collect empty beer bottles and
cans
I go across the road to see Inez and Stan
They open their closet and tell me to take what I need from empties in here
I was kind of disappointed when none of them were from Busch Beer
They ask me what are they for, I tell them they're for a hobby
I smile as I see myself in 32 weeks with a trailer park body
The next step is to collect some full sand bags, I know who to contact, the
National Guard
I know a female Sargeant there, he name is Louise, but her troops call her Black
Bart
She has the looks of her dad Stew
But she has a singing voice like Julie Andrews
She hooks me up with three full sand bags, which is more than I need
Step three I can't do, it would violate the trailer park creed
I guess cheaper isn't always the way to go
I bragged to my wife about the new me, but now I must eat crow
I decided to use the stuff I collected to decorate the front yard, but my wife said it
would look too gaudy
I look around at the heroes here at the park and realize that after all I do have a
trailer park body
Now I am back to square one
This trailer park is rippin' and roarin' fun
That couch sitting out in front of lot nine
After it's dark it will be mine
I'll have my people call your people
Where they can set something up
Make sure they schedule a meeting
So we can get something done
We'll put our heads together
Brain storming like never before
Working off bold charts and diagrams
That we've drawn up on the board
Calling out for coffee and doughnuts
We could be here all night
Screaming and hashing it over
Till we get this thing perfectly right
Only one thing I need to know though
That's not exactly clear
Who called this meeting to order
And why are we all here
Split Wide Open
The world of God’s miraculous,
Imbedded deep with creation’s love,
Split wide open
With the lightning of grace
Fragile shells of human bondage
Cannot contain their foolishness,
Nor feathers in the whirlwind
Neither dandelion seeds
Of crystal puffs - dizzy imbedded joy -
Uncontrollable laughter explodes,
On paths of effervescence,
Yearns to burst through
Frozen crusts of icy shame
Freezing clods of unexplainable remorse,
Floods in the wilderness of unworthiness,
Little bits of serendipity,
Untamed marvels – let loose -
In mystical coincidence grow
No fruitless plains,
No impotent fertility,
Wandering hearts harvest wonder
In seeds redeemed from Eden’s scandal,
Shattered pieces of providence’ paradise,
A universe split wide open,
Plans and diagrams dissolve in astonishment
When eternal compassion bewilders logarithms
Astounds in surprises to marvel
At the fertile unbound universe
When two weary unsuspecting paths
Link outside astral planes
And touch the fingertip of brimming joy!
6-11-22
Contest: This or That
Contest Title: Split Wide Open
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
the feeling is bittersweet
the flux of rapture and melancholy
shadowing each other like the shaded sections in diagrams of spheres and prisms
yet not so obsolete
dashing in like a flash flood
a wild bronco of a storm
it leaves you slightly overwhelmed
like a tree pulled from its roots by the wind
in this moment there is nothing there
a cold stalking silence of perception
it is neither a cage nor prison
but neither is it home
i wrap it around my metaphysical from like a silk scarf to my physical
only deceiving myself with the carnal temptation of its pleasure
always ending on a sour note
like the ill composition of an unwanted acquaintance
DEITY FOR LAITY or THE RELUCTANT ATHEIST
Oh! must we talk of God? Myself I think I’d sooner look
At what I perceive without a preconceived idea, prescription
We could quote the words of others since they’re written in a book
That proclaims that it alone contains the holy true description
Or could speculate with reason on what ought to be the truth
Using Boolean equations, syllogisms by the dozen
Draw Venn diagrams and mind maps, argue then with words uncouth
That He really must exist - or on the other hand He doesn’t
So I’ll stick with what I know and that’s including Thou and thine
Tell me of your own cognition, I’ll esteem your clear sincerity
Also those who’s lives I’ve known for whom I’d use the word “ Divine”
And that’s good enough for me ‘till I perceive a higher verity
I accept this world originates in one or more creator
But am cautious to endorse a sole, benevolent, Dictator
little man
lost
in the real estate
of his mind
not knowing
the layout
of what
he might find
clouded
by the dust
of his ego’s broom
stirring up memories
from a
childhood room
no one in the
morning
strangers
in the night
who what
when where
the mantras
of his fright
fed from
paltry pantries
filled
with stale delights
a star dimly shining
on a grey
summer night
he’s not sure
he’s made it
or what he even
made
light falls
to failing
his poems
signed
verses
thin lines
diagrams
and rhymes
clinging to the
outside
of an inside
that never was
turning towards
innocence
not knowing
why
just because.
111 known to represent intuition
Trusting yourself fully is the mission
Have you ever felt something about someone
everyone else was blinded by the gaslight
but some time passed
and turns out - YOU WERE RIGHT
How many times does that have to occur
for you to finally accept
that listening to self instead of everyone else
will keep you from living inept
In-depth we could go
diagrams I could show
of the chemicals produced when you get that gut feeling
but truly its overriding your programming, unlearning... healing
but saying it with words
that you've definitely heard
Is certainly more appealing. More revealing.
You know... Yes you know
That overpowers what you were taught
Trusting yourself is winning the war
the battles lost, can get forgot.
A twist in the Plot! You were right all along
You can't believe that they achieved a mental shackling so strong
But now its time to know
You know yes you do
No shaman can tell you better, no priest or pastor or Guru
Do not ignore your feelings
Analyze them and understand them on this mission
Breathe, look yourself in the I, and tap into your intuition
and I forgot reading love in the diagrams
like constructing great space ships
we fear it’ll never finish
and so
lancing us into the stars
though how rich life is
in every petal
even over the screen of imagination’s furnace
burning in roman-candled air-raids
forcing the power of our own love in front of us
as the only real and almighty staggering truth
as sought in tip-toes
for poetry is tip-toes
“The place of cure of the soul.”
Millions, clasped beyond Minerva's hall,
While inquisitive and confident hard.
Headed down towards different thoughts;
To giant collections, questions, borders strange.
There stood content's house of three.
In front, moved in cylindrical copyrights,
In round pegs and liquid language totems.
Then the first, unsettled pages in riddles,
In spirals, springs, learning machines.
To the second, summers and archived plans.
Thriving in the boundary walls.
Near the citizens, subjects, preservers,
Near the propagative inner rims of
Scholars, thinkers and doers,
Past a fire's waging gaze.
The formats walk up the manuscripts,
Cross, some ease and model's
Algorithmic snapping patents.
The quenching value of such!
Models and catalogue's emphasis
Builds the architecture's exceptional core.
The conscious modular maps, and
The abstract granularity of it all.
The rail crawls on these sheets and
illustrated diagrams and documents.
In such, roams bound kilometres in bronze,
and softens the stained glass piazza.
The lengths of the worded path evolve,
On the dotted strings, signs:
Librarians, Poets, Authors,
Publishers and Students, the oath;
“Seek knowledge from the cradle
to the library to the grave.”
10 parsnip street, thought carrot. Elongated places in wisdom curves. Aromatic spices on compounds and a dramatic twirl from a very energetic spoon whose primary existence is to perform backward flips at many dinner parties. Seal oneself in pastry then. Cavity of ionised fruit bake. Hoe to the garden of ovens. And spade in soup of pan. Wok sits dejected. It is neither a cabbage nor a bean sprout that will provide a wisdom glimmering glow. Portray not an apple dressed in tomato costume. Dance not a dipping dimmer switch in lakes of custard as yellow glows can be created from many hundreds of hue. Rays of sugar salted spaghetti strands in candlelit charm. Argue not a n oven baked pie with a patriotic turn. For as exact as one appears to be it is often wise to sip lollipops made from several flavours. Variety is formed from neither stagnation or monotony and thus perform arias in cinematic winds. Unveiling of the monotone voices speaking on lines with a C chord in duality of seven. Such dramatic diagrams. Shifting shaping scenarios saw seagulls skating. Dare you consume a clotted cream sandwich in a midnight sun bath surrounded by sculptured sand of deserts? Or be denied the freedom to dance bareback on stallions,dragons and unicorns? Talk not of six tailed erotically placed wind chimes. Such dilemma and movements should remain a hazard so place trail blazing warning lights upon a saddle then gallop with the easterly breeze. The true way through is the basic way out and lines are omitted in a free forming wave of original versions. Laughter from a prickly plant. Shards of glass expelled to exact velocity. And this is accompanied by movement,flow and change. Humming bird grinning in the turn tables of time. Moons moving movies minuscule meniscus moo models many. Managed. Mingling. *** towels in a town. *** fortifications ***.