Best Permutation Poems
March is a time of transition
winter and spring commence their struggle
between moments of ice and mud
a robin appears heralding the inevitable
life stumbling from its slumber
it was in such a period of change in 1905
that the House of Physics
would see its Newtonian axioms
of an ordered universe collapse
into a new frontier
where the divisions of time and space
matter and energy
were to blend as rain and wind
in a storm that broke loose
within the mind of Albert Einstein
where Brownian motion danced
seen and unseen, a random walk
that became his papers marching through science
reshaping the very fabric of the universe
we have come to know
we all share a common ancestor
a star long lost in the eons of memory
and yet in that commonality
nature demands a permutation
a perchance genetic roll of the dice
which births a new vision
lifting us temporarily from the mystery
exposing some of the roots of our existence
only to raise a plethora of more questions
as did the papers of Einstein in 1905
SAN DIEGO 9/05 Philosophy of Science Portal
Tim Ray Poet Colleague
i was working as a "Stringer" for the above blog searching the Internet for articles on physics and philosophy and was asked to write this as part of a celebration of the 100-year mark of Einstein's papers. i do not do requests but i conceded for reasons. my claim to fame herein is a poke at Einstein's statement that God does not play with dice, however, was not he a permutation in the scheme of things? and lest we forget he objected to the Big Bang theory holding onto the Steady State with other scientists because it was too much like Genesis. and lost to Bohr over Quantum Entanglement, settled by John Stewart Bell...but who is counting? and these peccadillos stand in little shadows of those papers in 1905.
What you add up to may be less,
Than what’s inside and unseen,
But your behaviour will determine,
Happiness by where you've been.
Our processes can be perceived,
By family members or role-models,
Maybe hierarchically by meaning,
But definitely by our rationals.
You can get real with them easily,
Or be as complex as meteorology,
Make a point or sensible relation,
To demand a finite sociology.
When there’s a series of events,
That diverge in extrapolation,
You can associate with friends,
In commutative permutation.
They mean absolute convergence,
Rhyme with you and find time,
For an ellipsis you’ve allowed,
Which you’d like objectified fine.
You won’t falter with summation,
It is inductively correct by step,
Your base won’t make you a case,
‘Cos your hypothesis will schlep.
Think outside the box
practice teach knowledge wisdom
continuity
Think outside the self
Peace love kindness compassion
soul restoration
Heavy eyelids
Drooping daze;
Blur fatigue
Hot weather
Sleepy eyes punctuate;
Somnolence
Well-fed bout
Too much food;
Sleepy convulsions
Eyelids heavy
Drowsy excursions;
Dreamy ESP
Chatter in slow motion
Awareness in decline;
Afternoon nap
Rapid express
Snoring sensations;
Roomy context
One by one
Figures tumble;
Sleepy exposure
Painful waiting time
Dental appointment;
Fatal extraction!
So many things
Left unsaid;
Good conversation
Drowsy listening
After lunch break;
Learners half asleep
Crowded space
Edgy moods prowl;
Silent rage sparks
Extra dry drought
Wild fires burn;
Smoke and ashes
Take a walk
Make some small talk;
Stiff indifference
Crowded street
Lonely faces;
Anxiety engineers
Busy footsteps
Crowded mall;
Noise pollution
Brief glance
Beauty meets beast;
Bar stool permutation
By crowded footpath
Old cripple cries:
Help me, buy tissues!
Day time escapades
Sunday morning jog;
People street hog
Leon Enriquez
20 Apr 2014
Singapore
A Deconstruction
I speak of nothing but
destruction
Buttered prose; a mere
distraction
Recited when the flux lines
froze
Resolved, I became a fraction
Convergent series; no inflection
Crossed divisors as I pleased
I would grasp imagination
With fingertips; resignation
Not once would cross my mind
Was each word a permutation?
Mere chance; a fluctuation
In the cosmos more than once
Like signs they go in one
direction
Number lines; clear infractions
They will reach and go no more
It is a gift.
Not the kind you are born with,
Like a way with words or a knack for sports or a sense of humor.
Nor is it wrapped up in fancy paper and tied with a shimmering bow,
Delivered to your doorstep with a great fanfare of balloons
And minstrels, all singing your praises.
It’s a gift you have to look for,
But it’s hidden in plain view.
What it really is, is a set of nested boxes,
Like little Russian dolls with their delicate, hand-painted faces;
And each smile, each laugh—
Each shared kiss on a cool spring night—
Each of these is a new layer.
The box is fluid, morphing with each permutation.
Some days the layers come off thin, quick,
Savory, like baklava.
Other days they tear you up like onions.
Then one day, exhaustion sets in and
The feathered demon of doubt swoops down,
Carrying you to the imaginary center of your gift.
You fear that there will be nothing there,
That it was all just a cruel joke,
As you stare down miserably at something too tiny,
Too absurd,
To possibly contain anything at all.
Even when you reach this point,
You’d never walk away.
Some feral desire drives you to
Grasp the edges of this “final” box and pull—
Pull as hard as you can—
Only to reveal another box within,
As full of surprises as the very first.
This maddening cycle,
This is the real gift.
Water drips rhythmically
Infinite permutation
Hands deter the flow
I see a mountain and I wonder,
I see a river and I wonder,
What permeates their instincts;
Is it some permutation
Or some ever pertaining philosophy.
The consistency to flow,
The consistent grandeur,
The consistent magnanimous posture,
Instils in me a supreme passion,
A determinant instinct, to pursue,
And paint the world with such a beauty,
And fill it with the essence of purity,
The glory of truth and an inspirational glow.
Words trickle
Discern meaning;
Open heart surgery
Work for wealth
Pricey tag for health;
Silly permutation
Whispers
Murmurs;
Fading voices hint
Going out today
Do not delay;
Trip to find me
Questions disturb
Overturn decisions;
Offer revisions
Lost in the mists
Time and space collapse;
Sudden illumination
Smiles and winks
Hints and tints;
CSR ice cream
Yes this is it dear death:
My last testament;
Officially legal and willing
Loose change
For penny options;
Get rich quickie!
Leon Enriquez
15 May 2014
Singapore
AQUILA
Aquila
constellations combinations
permutation patterns her plight
of
water and flight
Eagle
wings soaring powerfully
wind ravages plummeting
her
freedom light
Feather
spiralling slowly lingering
breeze floats cradle embracing
single
winged slight
River
rippling chasing competitions
downward streams drive forward
dreams
floating white
Aquila
unrestrained in naked swim
cooling tranquil Aquarian
finds
Eagles height
And…..
With
Feathered Quill
Water and flight
Write
*(“Aquila” is the Latin and Romance language word for “Eagle” representing the bird carrying “Jupiter’s” thunderbolts in Greco-Roman Mythology—the constellation of Aquarius—)
© Kim van Breda—7 November 2014
My cocoon tightens –colors tease
I am feeling for the air
A dim capacity for wings
Demeans the dress I wear
1099 - Emily Dickinson
Butterfly- A Glosa
My potential, held in a chrysalis,
I hide within a shadowed niche,
safe from mischief and the curious,
time stands still for my strange seed.
Buds of my wings, flimsy as flowers,
grow from leaf nectar with ease.
In grub miasma I am geometry concealed;
a rainbow of speckles
secretly forming in tiny degrees.
My cocoon tightens- colors tease.
Outside a gentle, scented atmosphere,
stirs memories of my once, segmented self,
sucked to wind tossed leaves, green
of their green, protected by dapple;
a puzzle of leafy camouflage.
I gorged there, naked and bare,
then wove around me a fine cocoon,
I was the spinner, and the loom,
quietly suspended now I must dare.
I am feeling for the air.
I am feeling for the sun,
cell by cell, a squeezing permutation
diligently shedding grub matter.
A framework, a pattern, a nectar tongue
coiled for long throats of flowers to come,
poised for pastoral whisperings
I struggle to unfold.
A magic, a beauty stunningly brief,
I hold, like all mystical things,
a dim capacity for wings.
My feelers, living dopplers’ vibrate
I shimmer, transparent gossamer.
I gather energy, I tremble for flight,
I tumble with garden blest wings.
A brief portrayal of immortal life,
is part of the nature I bear.
I flitter, I flutter I seem to be aimless,
a symbol of ever-returning things.
Only the fragile and delicate flower,
demeans the dress I wear.
For Line’s “ A Stunner 2017 Contest
The Glosa is a Spanish form based on taking 4 lines by another poet and expanding the theme.
I have entered this in 3 or more contests and was NA’d EVERY time.
Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Contest Judged: 6/2/2019 2:03:00 PM
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Placed 3rd
TONGUE TWISTER
Fantastic fun on scholastic enjoyment
assessing accessing accepting accent,
pointing permitting possible permutation,
claiming cunning clever combination,
sorting syllables on restricted selection
yielding rough tough pronunciation.
Neither fumbled nor jumbled being wobbled weak.
No boredom, speak random speedy quick.
Talk faster ignoring protester.
Wrap teeth and tongue to entrap
Ralph Malph’s mouth agape
bombarding bewildering audience
with competence, confidence
and coinciding Tongue- Twister.
01/11/21
Third Place
' Tongue Twister Challenge' Contest by Joe Sandler
If space is not eternal,
what happens when space ends
Can we define what emptiness is,
its borders to portend
Is there a hidden permutation,
for what dimension has in store
With the end of all beginning
—infused with something more
(Villanova University: December, 2019)
How long must I eat, gorge and be bloated?
How long will I be to destruction devoted?
How long shall I stay blind with eyes myriad?
How long do I wait for the onset of a new period?
Forever anticipate the dawn of a new creation
Salvation lies in a process of permutation
What was built must be torn down and broken
Out of its tomb elegance and grace will be woken
Till then I take all that this world can provide
For without them birth of the new will be denied
Till then for survival I fight, from predators I hide
And dream dreams of another life free and untied
Criss-Cross Acrostic: Ai My Eye
Criss-Cross Acrostic:
Note: *Construe as “words” not as “letters”: Lines 1 and 3 read alike reversed; Lines 2 and 4 read alike reversed; likewise vertically and diagonally from up-down or down-up mode.
"Ai Ai My Eye !"
I Was Saw Eye
Eye Saw Was I
Eye Was Saw I
I Saw Was Eye
Another Permutation:
« Ai Ai My Sore Eye !"
I Sore Was I
Saw I Sore Eye
Sore I Saw Eye
I Was Sore I
FURTHER PERMUTATIONS for SORE EYES
Eye Sore Saw I
Saw I Sore Eye
I Saw Sore Eye
Sore Eye Saw I
Saw I Sore Eye
Eye Sore Saw I
Sore Eye Saw I
I Saw Sore Eye
Eye Sore Saw I
Sore Eye Saw I
Saw I Sore Eye
I Saw Sore Eye*
This last quatrain diagonally reads as:
"Ai Ai Sore Eye" (phonetically): « Ai Ai Saw I"