Best Mechanical Engineer Poems
" Human Body "
There seems to be a heated debate
amongst a meeting of the minds
about the uniquely crafted body
of our own human kind.
Our amazing Human Body
is incredibly totally complete
three engineers want the credit
as they come together and compete.
The mechanical engineer
had some very good points
looking at the flexability
at all of the bodys joints.
Moving all around
up and down, too and fro
its a mechanical engineering feat
as the Human Body grows.
The electrical engineer
spoke of many reflections
its the complicated nervous system
and its electrical connections.
Considering all of the senses
of, sight, touch, smell, hearing, and taste
without each of these senses
the Human Body would be a waste.
The confident civil engineer
had the best intelligent criteria
who would run a toxic waste pipeline
right through a recreational area.
There is no further need to debate
no further meeting of the minds
the uniquely crafted body
was designed by a civil engineer kind...
Penned By MPK
Quote: Life Is Poetry In Motion, Great Poets Reflect Emotion…
Quote: The Best And Most Beautiful Thing In The World Can’t Be Seen Or Touched
It Must Be Felt With Your Heart…
She never got to know SpongeBob,
Or the thrill of Jerry and Tom,
She never had the fun of quarreling with the maid,
Or hiding the bathing soap just to watch cartoons.
Her life has been one big fight, that she lost before she could even start.
That girl in tattered rags,
The girl in a fierce battle with jiggers,
The girl from the muddy hut,
That girl has a frail body,
But her brain I admit, is very gigantic.
She dreamt of flying a plane,
Before even the age of adolescence,
She thought it would get her family off the hinges,
But her biggest fear became a reality, someone said,
"The fee is too high, aviation is not for the poor."
Slowly her interest in music grew,
Her voice so melodious no doubt she could triumph.
Then one man came and offered her a studio session,
She thought she was lucky, but the price? the man said,
"There's no need for money, you can just pay with your body."
Then she was convinced,
To pursue education because it's the key,
And 'realistic' dreams as a poor man's kid,
So she turned her whole being into books,
Digging them with a dimming lamp till midnight.
Her passion in physics grew,
Her brain so sharp always leading her compeers,
She thought it would be fun working as a mechanical engineer,
But her peers! they said,
"Engineering is for boys. Machines for a girl? that's weird!"
Then finally in medicine she landed,
But life has never been easy either,
Not with the teacher's mockings,
"Your brain needs alot of glucose and plenty resources,
Poor and you're studying medicine haha it can't make."
Days and nights both dark,
Struggling with an empty tummy and a hefty fee burden,
The girl ain't giving up yet,
But one thing I know,
Their is no hope for the poor man's kid.
Entrusted by the Gods
with the secrets of heavens,
Nikola Tesla, *
like a new Prometheus, **
into the deem-lighten world of
phenomena walked
determined to dissipate ignorance's fog
and
let divinity's knowledge of universal
laws shine bright.
Alas,
Man's haze of confusion and doubt
didn't allow the intensity of his shining mind illumine
technology's path till its ultimate goal
thus
living unanswered many questions asked by us,
mere mortals, who still strive to comprehend the
magnitude of his genius
that
was impregnated with the cosmological principles of
being and becoming which constitute the
eternal truth that steers the Cosmos!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 January 2020
* Nikola TESLA, Serbian - American inventor, electrical engineer, mechanical engineer and futurist. Born 1856, died in 1943.
** In Greek mythology, Prometheus is a Titan who is credited with the
creation of Man from clay and who defies the gods by stealing fire and giving it to humanity.
Circa February 28th, 1968 - The Former Leiper Estate
Soon after our family settled
into the sprawling estate
named "Glen Elm" approximate
half century old from date
mentioned in title, said treasure
rosy Gypsy foretold fate
Harriet Harris, (daughter
of Antebellum Rebecca great
Kuritsky - Brooklyn transplanted
Southern Belle), create
head "FAKE" story, whereby
former did absquatulate
with jack of all trades (Boyce
Brandon Harris) too late
above named ramshackle
mansion, they remained mate
to each other til death did
thee mum part, congratulate
sans, her high school chums
felt envious - girls did rate
papa (now octogenarian widower)
most handsome (master) bait,
whose smarts earning advanced
degree applying his pate
as mechanical engineer for
General Electric did satiate
penchant solving complex
mathematical equations tete
a tete for super intelligent
entrepreneurial fella alleviate
head real passion rehabilitating
derelict property, allocate
ting leisure time resuscitating
neglected homes ameliorate
head procreative itch practically
rebuilding this did animate
dad's profuse true calling
spending hours fame did anticipate
(though papa quite modest,
and other people gushed appreciate
ting self taught revitalizing
unseen hidden gem and to articulate
unique artistic flair himself
as taskmaster masterpieces intimate
ting creations nobody, but
himself could imagine brilliance pate
drew forth unbelievable
enhancements doppelganger did berate
rarely could family, friends,
strangers...do more than capitulate
with ceaseless praise always
adding final touches to captivate
most flattering aura, charisma,
karma (credit) perfectly calibrate
head aesthetic qualities even
shabbiest building communicate
ting magic touch of, who plied
blood, sweat and tears culminate
ting in unbelievable transformation
particularly, how to designate
ideal amount of appeal to abode
came to screeching halt dissipate
head after mum passed, and papa's
raw talent earned thru educate
ting himself, no amount of inborn
inherent blueprints did illustrate
native bent, BUT no new life could
resurrect demise of his queen soulmate!
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
Memory houses soul asylum vestige...
where complex edifice once anchoring
venerated Glen Elm demesne once stood,
now nothing except vinyl city!
I recall breathtaking, expansive, incredible
numerous, tremblingly awe inspiring views
billion miles (slight exaggeration) heavenly
sights comfortably ensconced, while perched
high atop sadly long since demolished complex
edifice anchoring Glen Elm demesne – summer
mansion property captain Leiper (circa early
nineteen hundreds) more'n century ago once
encompassing hundred plus acres whittled to
approximately 2.42811 hectares upon purchase
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight by
papa Boyce Brandon Harris, insync with help
courtesy paternal grandpa Aaron Harris, the
former who invested blood, sweat and tears,
when not yoked, tethered, obligated... to
incumbent duties consonant with assignments
linkedin, when gainfully employed as top notch
mechanical engineer at General Electric, he
slaved away gentrifying neglected fixer upper
(matter of fact single handedly reshingled roof)
that same exterior hideaway offering solace
against imprecation, ostracization, ultimatum...
damnation, humiliation, laceration, (albeit verbal
lashing against yours truly), when exhibiting no
motivation to work (courtesy thank debilitating,
immobilizing, paralyzing anxiety/panic attacks),
now though still plagued with same understood
as congenital (possibly in utero) malady, yes an
abominable, execrable, implacable..., nemesis
which unpleasant memories haunt me even to
this day, whereby nothing but utter failure cast
dark shadows analogous to edge of night oft
times accompanied with suicidal ideations,
whereat damned, continually bereft, abysmal
bereft legacy testimony marginally functioning
as the token "scapegoat" throughout twelve
torturous years yielding absolute zero aptitude
unable to comprehend, (I strongly suspect die
hug noses along high functioning autistic
spectrum - case in point youngest of two sweet
progeny (both daughters) afflicted with yepper
aforementioned cognitive learning disability,
she benefited social services since birth, and
can attest to much more positive academic,
and socialization endeavors well on her way
living clear and free empowered at twenty
orbitz round the earth.
Elysian fields long since embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad more'n eighteen plus months ago,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.
Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020
ye did somewhat peacefully die
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,
when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one wunderkind whose accomplishments
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply.
The late Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.
Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said Renaissance man.
Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate.
ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny.
iii. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves
iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
v. constructing sauna in cellar,
Professed paean pronounced
and adroitly produced
upon spirit of deceased
named Boyce Brandon Harris.
First year anniversary since
cremains distributed across four winds
his soul remains alive within me.
Impressed upon mine consciousness
birthdate announcing home birth
April 9th 1929, my father
gasped his first breath of air
head populated with black curly locks,
when he uttered that initial blare,
nor preschool instructors extant
to teach him building blocks
inherent in double helix strand,
paternal grandfather (mine)
designed many a fancy chair
passed along blueprint
pertaining to curious lad
forever challenging himself to dare.
Though me dada gone with the wind
well nigh three hundred sixty five days
impossible mission to forget being pinned
with profound grief now sorrowful phase
diminished, nevertheless vague upbringing
regarding late father roughly limned
especially recalling dada's mien ways.
Him biological circumstance found
being youngest of three offspring
and second ably linkedin heir
whose inquisitiveness found him
roaming (courtesy donning roller skates)
Manhattan island far and near
plus or minus penchant
with science and mathematics
intelligent quotient in stratosphere
those mental cogs, wheels and gear
found those piercing black eyes to peer
way beyond New York City skyline.
Demise of him who helped beget me
softened harsh rebukes figuratively rained
upon noggin of yours truly
sole son wishes father understood
my psychological maelstrom
flush with monsters under boyhood bed,
and voices inside traumatized head.
Latent smarts did create career
path, which whipsawed him
thru multitudinous exotic places he did dare
to traverse – from Korean front
to General Electric where
he secured employment
as mechanical engineer
within aerospace, industry
completed my academic projects with flair,
who essentially earned me passing grade
just by the chin whisker hair
and by physical might,
I wished he served as bodyguard
when kids did jeer
me quiet skinny boy, who felt intimidated
when bullies spewed names with a leer.
Virility Imperiled Manhood Emasculated (mine)
No sense of accomplishment prevails to date
analogous to kudzu... inadequacy runs rampant
recurring theme extant within poetic endeavors,
and often discussed with assigned therapist (one
among many girls named Stephanie Dodds) do
GOOGLE search and see for yourself – similar
curiosity got the better of me, whose christened
name (Matthew Scott Harris), not unique to yours
truly, a poem, which theme pertaining to aforesaid
first, middle, and last namesake already written by
none other other than this scrivener) impacted self
esteem less so than inchoate nascently, pervasively
rampantly,... thrashing unleashed upon impression
hubble early (perhaps even in utero) formative days
of milne eeyore whinnying pooh wrenching, ruing
jackknifing...unsmiling, lamenting childhood's end
upon cusp debilitating psychological tragedy, where
whatsapp pining within me present mindset lodged
nexus, sans linkedin destructive buzzfeeding apathy
mired potential vitality (crying evinced powerful
lungs) quickly succumbing against brutish, nasty,
yet not short reign of innate oppression, fixation
abnegation with dereliction, asper self preservation
engendering feeble gesticulation harkening incipient
personhood crowdsourcing courtesy condemnation
damning existential insignificance motif possibly
adopted comparing not fancy free and footloose
demeanor toward none other than Boyce Brandon
Harris, thee papa, jack of all trades, (many taught
thru his own quick learning penchant), numberless
abilities + storied vocation - mechanical engineer
equalled one smart polymath strengths constantly
reiterated by mother (dearest long since deceased)
agog how papa excelled at most every endeavor,
i.e. vocational career at General Electric (aerospace
engineer) in conjunction with bajillion avocations,
hence finding his sole son (second of three progeny)
when only yeah high (a scrawny, skinny, spunky...
little boy) internalizing heaping accolades bestowed
strong, not so dark, modestly handsome biological
paternal parent with (rocking) round the clock timely
adulation, which praise papa similarly received soon
after blessed birth April ninth ninety twenty nine.