Best Relativity Poems
Bacteria, too small for human eyes
engage their fight for life within our midst,
so unaware of Earth's gigantic spies
with microscopes and slides, who co-exist.
And tiny fish, contained by walls of glass,
oblivious to all that thrives outside,
in worlds of colored sand and plastic grass
know not the ocean's roar or rhythmic tide.
Too, we the wisest creatures of life's sea,
who travel well the wonders of our home,
are blinded by the endless mystery
of space and time- horizons we can't roam.
What great dimension of the vast beyond
makes Earth a microscopic vagabond?
March 14, 2015
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon
Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Kinetic waves of energy
Ripples in time and space
subtle sums of synergy
Patterns of silk and lace
Universes that race away
Mem’ries that as quickly fade…
Into black holes of yesterday
That give nothing back in trade
Stardust settling ‘pon dusty hutch
And on planetary plain (alike)
Truly does not differ much
In substance same (as in sight)
Universes that to stars give birth
Pediatric wards that work much the same
Birth is birth…for what it’s worth
It’s just a cosmic game
Galaxies that go on forever
Rainbows that have no end
All a part of eternal endeavour
Without an answer my friend
Warp speed….Snail’s pace
It’s all relative you see
One takes place in outer space
The other is given to you and me
I
The rain came without rainbows
She walked between the raindrops
The sun, even in Fall, warms all over
No crimson & gold leaves over tops
Of local mountains, but fruit all Year!
Be there clouds, mustard seed faith grows
II
The milder African winters, not for him
He had not traveled abroad - bad & good
White cattle herons, always delighting
With aerial acrobatics, done getting food
Like paper kites dressed in snow, hovering
At twilight over the lake, their lives coloring
why...the speed of light?
sit...a moment please : )
cofcof...
each neural network dimensions time fractionally as
all...
be change and relative
nothings...
with respect times days passing without exact repeats
but...
that they are here then gone as all the tomorrows are
only...
absentees with respect present hourly relative differences
counted...
numbered as a/the being of something constant about times passing
topology...
where-in/on the being of a now is but as just some momentary bubble
image...
with spherical constants representing a depth in times passing
geometry...
andt upon the constant passing absences of tomorrows yesterdays
seconds...
todays are defined in terms of what remains consistent about the
leftovers...
the sediments so to speak caught in the eddies of the geometric flow as
images...
of reflected on and offs of atomic quanta reflected in eyes at a constant
speed...
called that of light with respect to the movements in our percieved
images...
stan sand
(sorry...no time for a re-read and corrections)
I’m not sure how one explains old age…I’m not sure what rules apply.
At the funeral when my Grandma died…I remember how they tried…
I heard them say how she was a friend to many
A mother…a grandmother…a wife…
How she was fortunate as people go
to have lived a long and wonderful life.
But when I think about the time back then, for I was only 10 you see
with those things they all were saying…I could not totally agree.
Sure she might have had some wrinkles but I didn’t think of them back then
I never thought how old she was…I just figured…she was 10.
I guess this age thing has to do with the way our lives overlap…
how we all have our own techniques…and methods to adapt.
Grandma knew me my first 10 years of life…before the time she passed
While the 10 years that I knew her happened to be her last.
But she read the books I liked to read, she played the games I liked to play
She ran and jumped and climbed with me, she was 10 if she was a day.
In the Spring we’d plant a garden…a secret garden that was ours
In the Summer we’d go swimming or sit under the stars
She liked to take long walks with me…show me things I did not know
She helped me gather leaves in Fall…and build forts in the snow.
So was she old…my Grandma?
as I now search my memory..
to many it might have looked that way
but she was never old to me.
A microscopic arachnid
tinier than a poppy seed
spins diminutive filaments
barely visible to the eye;
a spiral silk lacework deathtrap
for infinitesimal prey
strung high between white cornered walls
in a microcosmical world.
Is its existence more trifling
than mine that occupies more space?
Perhaps not, in the scheme of things:
my universe among the stars
is imperceptibly smaller
than this occupants’ in my room.
Relativity’s science has its place,
yet surprises us with social rhyme.
For if you say you need your space,
then be prepared to give me time.
For if expanding space for you
then contracts your time with me,
perhaps we'll need to soon undo
our bonds of relativity
Astronomers behold celestial delights,
Endlessly finding glorious heavenly insights.
Joyfully keep learning more natural obscurities.
Previously quite routinely seen targets usually viewed with x-rays,
Yet zoomed in using Hubble Space Telescope, helps prove Einstein's Theory of Relativity!
some might say she’s plain
some might even say she’s vain
Newton’s laws aren’t understood
no one sees the good
for me she’s the loveliest
to some, she just seems modest
just cause and effect?
to me all free laws reflect:
relatively...she’s perfect!
DEVOTION POEM 39th ANNIVERSARY
On this stilled night,
Dare I presume?
After a listening to the way
Einstein came to realize his
Relativity realities,
Dare I presume to sit once overagain in memory
In a student center’s crowded circumstances…?
To choose you, to offer a share of my
Sandwich, snapping a mental photo of your hands,
Which in our years I will come to love, able
To imagine their frequent, gentle touch over
My skin, just as your eyes always do, as still, after
All these years as if asking permission for its sought sight of me.
Do we presume in our dancing angles so relative
To our decades of delighted diagonals resting our heads
On each other’s chests, feeling the warmth, the slow
Up and down as breaths go on? Hold then, once again
My heart in your hands, as we incline back or lean forward
In time, in this astounding utterance of long years — 39 —
That I dare not utter without some marveling tears;
For my long ago hopes of this togetherness,
I once but presumed to bear, a simple maid
With hopes of loving thee, with a love that can bring you
Some joy in its life and length of passion.
A dream, a hope, a vow become reality.
The deepest love can presume its memories to seem as
If they occurred only yesterday, held in the heart
Once over, living again.
——————————- ————————————————. ————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 8/17/22
Anniversary 8/17/83
With regards to t.s. Elliot
I
Roger Dean at a South African college
And team, caught our singularity
The black hole, so Einsteins Relativity
Does not apply here, physics' knowledge
II
Amazing that at the center of our Milky Way
There is so much outside of usual gravity
Space-time, if a fabric, has massive debris
One of these swallows all light, passers by!
"Time isn't precious at all because it is an illusion ...
The more you are focused on time past and future-
the more you miss the now, the most precious thing
there is."
Quote of _ Eckhart Tolle
The question asked is time an allusion?
Time gives an order to events in this world,
we use the word time often in sentences;
there is the present time where things have unfurled,
there is the past with all the consequences.
And there is the future that has not yet whorled.
moments become the past in all instances;
each thought and each click of the clock is the past.
Have you had 'Deja Vu' of something long passed?
A fleeting recollection or feeling strange,
perhaps it is a conversation or place;
a psychic experience we want to change,
it feels odd and we try to hide it with grace.
Time- an allusion and often not arranged,
there is just the present for us to embrace;
the past is gone and the future is unknown.
But, what of the love lost that we mourn?
____________________
February 18, 2023
Poetry/Ottava Rima/Time's Relativity
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1526-208-18
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Deja Vu
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 03/02/2023
Second Place
To All you Pythagorean's
I love your triangles
Figuring your area
gives me conclusions.
I reach for the fourth
dimension
And shadows fill my
head,
Welcome guests that
are dead.
Thinking rationally if you leave out one part Enlightment in the wrong speed and direction will go when missing in the equation in the end middle or start naturally instead of a brilliant light you are separated into a black hole
Thinking it sophisticated, he declared himself a sophist.
Dwelling deep in Plato’s cave, he became learned in the shapes of shadows.
Enamored by their dim dancing, he concluded there can be no truth.
One day he realized that for this assertion to be true, it must be false,
and if it is false, it cannot be true.
Stepping out into ambrosial, golden dawn,
Departing at the new glistening inception,
he carried the heart of a befuddled terrified nomad.
A drifter, always hungry for affinity.
Rootless, always foraging for simpatico.
He became the vagrant ferreting the ambient gleaming
reaches, never certain of what he found, but convinced
that his search was urgently necessary.
In luminous amber ambience, he ambled the ambulatory.
Though his methods seemed antiquated and antique, he knew he could
never return to the cave shadows of antiquity.
No, they would never deceive him again.
But then as explorer, he confronted new dilemmas,
choosing between the newspeak of alternate realms.
His path lit by ubiquitous glittering rocks; he felt the glow penetrate in ways
he never before conceived, for he had always been soaked in stygian tenebrosity.
Common minds traverse comfort zones, seldom seeing beyond their boundaries.
His new freedom granted an empathic eye, remembering his hardest anxious choices.
Never before did he recognize how this residue, he collectively shared.
Upon this subliminal shoreline between mortality and the sublime, he could reify rapturous grails. He knew then, this divination was made possible only by his relatedness of being.
Moral codes based on inclusive truths make civil discourse achievable
because universal joints join collective being with unadorned conscience.