Best Quantify Poems
Once long ago there was a clear blue sky
Where roamed free bird and butterfly
That’s when came the idea to super citify
And to pollution creators deify
All put their brain power to diversify
Silenced anyone who dared go awry
Soon mile high skyscrapers did gratify
And every square inch did occupy
Way too many to quantify
So it was nature they did damnify
Now skies are filled with traffic jams that horrify
Greenish rain waters that relentlessly acidify
Mountain-high billboard ads that do electrify
An extravagance of gadgets enough to stupefy
Implanted technology meant to dehumanify
In light of superfluity, let me just plainly oversimplify
Scientists need to eat a big piece of humble pie
There’s just no way to justify
Why colorful sunsets went by the by
And why no one remembers the aroma of apple pie
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on March 4, 2018 for contest SCIENCE FICTION sponsored by DEBORAH GUENTHER BEACHBOARD - HONORABLE MENTION
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
My slumber knows no measure...
There be no sleep for me.
The hounds are barking through the night
For immortality.
I toss them a leg of hubris
And a banal cliche for slight effect.
But their hunger goes unsated...
I lay waste my self-respect.
A few platitudes and twaddle
Are quickly gobbled by the beasts.
I make an honest effort at contrition
To give aid to my relief.
But my words of self-castration
Seem to energize the hounds.
I further try to appease and quantify...
But I'm losing precious ground.
I prostrate a harried confession.
My delusive sins are now a flood.
The wolf stands menacingly astride my door...
The beast has tasted blood.
Again... I apologize now threefold times
Using paper, pad and quill.
But it matters not to feed the beasts...
The hounds are barking still.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
Nothing is as beautiful as watching the sun set in its splendor and radiance.
Nothing is so natural as watching the nature blossom in its peacefulness.
The birds singing in their sonorous voices.
The trees and plants blowing their bugles and trumpets and flutes.
The ocean flowing in its stillness and coolness,
making a harmonious melody to the soul.
Nothing is as sacred as a secret, bounding together for the fear of betrayal.
Nothing is as adorable as a treasure.
All this put together would not be able to quantify what it means to express what you have
been
to my life and world.
Oh! Behold my beautiful maiden, lonely on the hills of melancholy
and with her sonorous voice she sings
chanting for a missing Adonis.
In you I have found peace, joy and happiness.
A treasure I have found in you and that means more than the world to me.
This, I have longed for, and this I have found,you!
Like the snail I was,
I withdrew to my shell and said i would not come out again from my shell
but the first rain of the new season has sent my snail out again roaming its tentacles
in the coolness of the fresh air.
The beauty that others couldn't find on her face,
I have found in her heart.
That was why they couldn't find the treasure that i have found in her.
They call her princess but i call her a queen.
They call her a friend, I call her a companion.
They call her a woman, I call her a mother.
They call her a girl but i call her a wife.
They said she is weak, but in her i have found my strength.
In her I have built a beautiful world where only the two of us would live comfortably
without the disturbance or interference of this wicked world.
I would live comfortably in this world i have built with you forever if you wont kick me out
because without you, this world all put together is meaningless and vague to me.
4. Quantum Superposition
. A particle can exist in multiple states or places simultaneously until measured
Are humans waves or particles?
Even an entire human being, under the right conditions, can act like a quantum wave. If we can define it, we can quantify just how “wave-like” a particle or set of particles is.
I count the magnificent moons
in my stills as I await the phantom voyeur
with stone blue eyes and a fated look, which sets upon me
The one who stirs my soul, measuring me up in coiled silvery spoons
What obsessive observations you must have
not to turn away those piercing eyes
My world stops, my feelings set on and off
Unseen I meander in other spaces
Your eyes are the “switch” without that which
forbids my existence, hence looped are my stills in many places
From the center of life’s probabilities
Spaciously lit across the universe, with bits of me in tow
Collapsed in your arms, we’ve launched our rainbow
Revealing our humanity in the flesh,
in language of mathematician’s music
Riding the unscrupulous waves of light
roaming across all existence,
reverberating ruthless through you, displacing us
Composing are the alchemists and their peers ~
Splitting into a myriad of mirrors
I bare myself to a random reality,
Totality’s filigree, tangling dangling
When you’re not here,
when you’re lost in thought
As the haze spins up and down around me
my world is unseen and the scale’s unbalanced
Showcasing that I’m equally dead as I am alive
Resuscitate me not—please, it’s here that
monotonous music is unheard in this uncertain trapeze
Until eyes of azure translucence are upon,
I cease to exist in fervor, in your zeal
Alive and very real to boot!
I’m gauged like the intrinsic brightness that shines off a star
Until then, am I just a figment of deepest intensity?
By far, humbled to be, take the bait and consummate my reality
Be the glance exigency
Impenetrable eyes of bluest skies I’ve lost sight of you
As a still, until we meet again
Erase my existence
I break my own heart
until the black smoke infests
breathless lungs,
tortured by the taste
of soul’s inkless touch.
If I am your refrain ~
burn my name
into the pulse of pain,
I need not the sermon
for loneliness
as love asks me to
simplify my demons.
If only words could warm
the wounds I wear
like a warrior lost
in the toxic wilderness of want,
perhaps the algebraic angst
would no longer multiply
and divide the despair,
subtract the sickness
estimate the end ratio
from the sum of somberness
to leave and resolve
a remorseless remainder
too erratic for the
sapphire sigh.
I am an equation
without an equilibrium
measuring the metaphorical
distance between your
dreams and my darkness,
a shattered diamond
scattered on the tip of
infinite intersection of infatuation,
calculating the chaos
amidst your fickle fractions,
I wander as the unknown,
faithless ~ consumed in fears
like a forgotten kiss from grief.
So let the numbers roll numb,
toss a silver to the twisted
tower of garnet tears,
there I will forever remain
the quiescence that failed
to quantify quaking skies
of conflicted clouds,
carrying tales I wove
as if I asked for
this walking nightmare.
Must your hustling highs
see the muse of madness
losing sanity?
I know myself in this
mathematical mayhem ~
a variable without a value,
collapsing into complex
combinations of
constant nothingness,
a negative numeral
drained behind a decimal point,
a disappointment hidden
beneath matte curves
of lipstick lullabies
posted on the walls
of sinners and sunsets.
I never wanted to be the reason
your rhymes wept,
but I am doomed,
a jinxed Juliet of sorrow...
I could have been
your guardian glow,
glistening in confetti gold ~
yet, I am too broken
to be your pink-laced star-catcher,
it isn’t written in fate;
it’s tattooed in bones.
this is the sound of tainted trammels
releasing you from the
smoldering
skin of eternal inferno ~
pardon the paranoia
it's haunted inside,
this is my
island
of
s t
o r
m
s ...
I don’t think it’s foolish,
Simple-minded, silly, whimsical,
Naïve, and/or childish
To believe that love is magical.
So-called experts offer
No scientific explanations
That any would prefer.
Love wordlessly defies summation.
You know that I love you,
But that is so hard to quantify;
And I am loved by you--
I don’t need to know a reason why.
Some believe in magic.
Most believe in something up above.
Wouldn’t life be tragic,
If we all stopped believing in love?!
I miss the snow ... well, not really, just a little.
A snowflake's long flight from birth to death.
But is it end? To serve to our amusement?
Or transformation, that's not for us to get?
.
A snowflake, a human, God ... whatever.
Of course, we can just quantify in all directions.
But other stuff, that we can't touch and such?
Well, rules apply, but some with nice exceptions.
.
The life and death. The tree and stone.
It seems so obvious to us and set.
But future of a tree is coal, it's stone.
And plants will rise from dirt, I bet.
.
The circle was, the circle is and will be - no changes.
For billions of years and billions ahead.
The line of life and death, as we can see, is fading.
The good news is - we comprehend all that.
.
First step is made. The second? I don't know.
It all depends on me and you.
Too much responsibility? The load seems too heavy?
Well, you arrived on Earth. Just tell me aren't you?
.
The faith and science - the war was waged forever.
Where science failed, our faith was taking over.
But how far we get without knowledge?
So, reaching to the stars, beyond would be, well - never.
.
With fading lines, the circle, quantification,
The second step will be realization
That our bodies, souls do live together,
So, other Pinnacles continue in combination.
This thing that they call love can not be measured
it comes to us all whether we want it or not.
Sneaking up it hits us in the eyeballs and
turns our lives around giving us both strength
and at the same it makes our knees bend in weakness.
This thing called love has the power to move obstacles
to ease our way. It makes people see life afresh.
It is a feeling that brings wellbeing into daily life.
We are now responsible for another person and our path
together can be sometimes rocky we learn to take
the rough with the smooth trying always to better ourselves.
It makes the world go around as it pushes us ever on
A feeling that tingles our spine as the loved one draws near.
When we love it opens new doors and gives a sense of sharing
and we become more tolerant of the foibles of others faults.
This thing called love gives us so much joy if we let it in.
Remember how it welled up when your first child was born.
Filling our hearts to breaking point as we gaze down and also
filling us with strength and determination to be our best.
To make a good life for our offspring after all it is through
them that eventually we will live on.
Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Never should it be measured,
to measure it is to belittle it and make it small. Accept this gift
with open heart for this is truly what life is about. It is said,
that love conquers all and this I believe, many are life's battles
and loneliness and solitude weaken the human spirit.
Welcome always with open arms this thing called love
let your eyes and heart open, enjoy the small things
nature has to offer. They will enrich your life and enhance
your very soul. Take pride in your achievements, forget
your disaster's, they only matter if you let them and then fester
souring all that should be good and pulling you down.
Yes open wide both heart, eyes and arms and even though
you can not quantify and pin it down just rejoice that we have
this thing called love. Ah Yes it is "la mort" and also "l' amore."
Reflections
Reflecting upon – it is a dangerous game for one to play
for it leads to flawed judgements – unreasonable expectations
for expectations are seldom realizes or met by others.
Expectations are difficult to live up to, by others or by ones self.
Images projected, those reflections are often built upon fantasies,
illusions, delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to a reality.
Personal history is just that – personal – and not a measuring stick
by which to quantify, see, judge, to comprehend what is here and now
nor is it the mirror by which to bring forward – into the future.
Judge not but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, it’s past, not the story upon which to create – today.
Today is all we have !, yesterday is gone !, - tomorrow is promised to no one !
B. J. “A” 2
January 12th 2007
Do not over think or quantify
let the words flow from your heart.
They will speak, even shout for themselves
so just write what is deep in your soul.
Let your words paint a picture
and they will glitter and shine
written 05.16/2015
contest: Advice for new writers, words of wisdom in verse
Quiet!
Quotients
Quiz. . .
~Quantophrenia!
Quiet!
Quiz—
Quantify
Quotients. . .
~Question!
Quest :)
~Quantulate
Quotients'
Quantuplicity?
Quite!
Quiet,
Quiz—
Quantify
Quotients. . .
~Quisquilious
Quiz!
Quiet,
Quoz!!!
(laughter erupts)
~Quirky
Quadragenarian
Quipped
"Quoz"!!!
Quit
Quackling!!!
(chanting)
~Quirky
Quasimodo!
Quelch,
Quash,
Quell—
Quirky
Queasy
Quizzes!!!
Quiet!!!
Quiet!!!
~Quirky
Quasimodo!
Quelch,
Quash,
Quell—
Quirky
Queasy
Quizzes!!!
Quiet!!!
Quelch,
Quash,
Quell—
Quisquous
Querulists!!!
~Quirky
Quadragenarian
Quipped
"Quisquous
Querulists"!!!
Q U I E T ! ! !
Q U I E T ! ! !
(school bell rings)
~Queue,
Quicksticks!
Q-U-I. . .
QUIT!
***
01/23/2020
Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with or sound like the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :)
Photo credit: Shutterstock | Substitute Teacher
He spends his nights cold, and full of desperate wonder. Pondering time; and his place amidst the infinite mass around him. For as he pleads for his eye lids to fall, he knows the planet he inhabits
is doing just that: falling. Spinning into nothing. “Where am I going?” He thinks. “Do I even care?”. His lids finally give in and he becomes lost in dreams of “what may, or may not be”.
At times he becomes sullen and afraid; others he feels an unexplainable nirvana that he's never been able to fully grasp.
Infinity has that effect on the mortal I suppose. And, with a mind perpetually tossing hypothetical wisdom and theoretical truths; He watches his shadow twinge away from the light that he is compelled to follow. And his soul dances in a state of disenchantment, trying to find rhythm in a world of chaos.
All the while his tongue searches through sour notes and intimate whispers, his minds lays still on the fading memory of innocence and unconditional love. Savoring the serenity of spellbound grace and relentless joy; something to be missed by a sinner's palate.
What is a boy to do?
He finds himself rowing the challenges of a man in a world that favors the strong. And yet, his trembling arms seek nothing resembling operative strength. He seeks only love, and finds comfort in the idea potrayed by his imaginative heart.
But is it real?
Or an oasis languishing before a foolish boy?
The test of a man is surely an atrocious endeavor that this young fledgling cowers beneath tonight.
His eyes journey toward the stars as his soul races to quantify the elaborate scheme poised above.
He can't help but curse the heavens, something he instantly regrets. He knows the luminous miracles beyond did not forsake his essence; It was his choices that begged for punishment.
And yet,
That very thought is something to be cherished.
For its appraisal is a catalyst for his evolution.
-James Kelley 2011©
Don’t define me by what you think I am
I refuse to label myself
Exclude me from your pre-program
I don’t follow your parallel
How I express things is me being me
Sometimes I’ll be one thing, and later another
No need for the labels to quantify what you see
I’ll just do my thing and leave you to wonder
Minute to minute I may fluctuate
I am what I am based on how I feel
Under your epithets I would just stagnate
It may be confusing but my changes are real
I have decided that I’ll be a fluid
I’ll no longer let myself be diluted
I am just me, and that image is lucid
The fractured imprint of Cassandra remains;
burns bright; pounds at the gates, silenced. She says,
"Keep Quiet, your words have power.
Say only, "Let me be an instrument of your will, Lord."
Tongues and ties will bind- an act of balance with no end.
In turn, opening His love for you, pounding nails in a board.
"Your reward is not in this life: your reward is this life.
Your gift: to experience the glory of Creation with all your senses-
to learn to love like agape- an eternal constant knife
that cuts what separates and tears down all fences.
The agents of 'separation' are manifested thoughts
and actions of humans who fall into despair.
Despair leaves little room for love- so love transmutes
into compassion, flows towards you unnoticed through the air.
She absorbs the slings and arrows of despair;
a well that when drawn from, overflows and waters your roots.
The 'weak force' is more powerful than the 'strong.'
Through a matrix, "singlets" are born from pure energy-
born of an imbalance between Creation and Annihilation;
everything seen and unseen in nature has won the quantum battle
to exist for a while, but not for long.
Yet, the 'weak force' is often defined in terms
of destructive radioactive decay- that mirrors
processes observable on Earth. May we redefine
ourselves and each other backwards, from death to birth?
When the Magi presented their gifts to the Christ-
most precious and beloved, worthy gifts to a prince or a pauper.
And when He was grown, He said, "All gifts are equally beloved
and all men are princes and paupers."
There is no direct correlation:
Between what we sow and what we reap-
is everything under the sun. That which unites and that
which separates to rule are the transient game.
"Be not proud, for all your gifts and faults are tools, to help
you quantify the gifted and the poor the same."
Rewritten on 11/28/13.