Long Differential Poems
Long Differential Poems. Below are the most popular long Differential by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Differential poems by poem length and keyword.
That first non-rhythmical matter,
Floated on the new dust of light,
To whet the eleventh spark clatter,
Such that its dividend split tight;
A web, a sea of ringed atmosphere,
Then a cob of meteoric compression,
Hurling towards a black collapse here,
To dent the shock supernovas intervention;
With planets duetting their sweeps in silence,
The night is not black and suffers a blow,
Identified deductively but with great nuance,
The waves glinting the bounce and the flow.
God became a man, human to the core,
Not an apple, lamp, priest or Ferrari,
Even though Genesis incepts with lore,
Given god as a construct, apple’s Atari;
Christianity grabs god indeed as a man,
Possibly to concede that a human coasts,
Crucially opening herbs and aromatics fan,
To the differential and to the weaker posts.
Life without a momentum blackadders,
Would not summate to conviviality,
Rejuvenation oscillations sprite the adders,
Ionotrophic energy comes up from banality.
Rhoda Monihan
We've torn down buildings, and built new ones
Yet we have no foundation.
We are illiterate to what we truly feel and breathe unless,
It is seen else where first.
It too is a reality that we've created.
This feeling that can only be described in Braille.
We too are restricted.
These bumps that go unnoticed.
The mumps in the crevice we band aid until it's too late.
We continue to tear down these fortresses of ourselves.
What concerns most is that I see myself in you.
The same love and laugh that become the building blocks that haults the storm.
Yet we reject each other due to the mentality of our environment.
With lack of understanding,
We fail to embrace choosing the cause and effect of all differential.
We seek to destroy forgetting what's important.
We work against each other doing more damage that good.
We need each other to further emancipation.
To build one another once this storm reaches peak.
As simple as it sounds it becomes more complex.
To build a new building on top shakey ground.
Everything must be cleared out.
The participation of presence
The party was great.
Wine flowed freely.
I was proud for my award,
A professor of Literature,
Even though I was young,
Tall and handsome, an attraction to most.
Suddenly Rita, a friend, grabbed me by my arm,
And smiling said: “Isn’t mathematical disciplines
Great tools for differential equations.”
I stared at her, thinking of insanity.
Who cares for mathematical equations?
But she insisted that differential geometry
And those of topology were important.
“Sweetheart,” I retorted. “John Donne would do better.”
She did not think so, as she grabbed me by my arm
And led me to the samples of fine wine.
“A pseudo holo morphic curve is so smooth,
I’m sure you’ll agree.” My nerves were now frayed.
I led her out into the garden towards the gazebo
And gave her my best sample of a French kiss.
She did not desist. It was fun.
Perhaps there was something worthwhile
Thinking on geometric equations.
Billowy storm clouds turn to skies of azure blue
Agonizing pain fades when its days are through
The trek of life has its many ups and downs
Its seasons of smiles, its times of frowns
We hope more joy and gladness are recorded
Than all the heartache and sadness that’s reported
Yet troubles and trials are given that we might know
That adversities strengthen; crises help us grow
If all the joys were placed in a basket of cane
And all the pains put in another of the same
Then both are put on a balance scale at life’s end
Would they equalize or which one would ascend
Perhaps, it is just a matter of how one views life
Joys are difficult to evaluate amid strife
And pain often accompanies times of celebration
These tensions are oft together whatever the occasion
Daresay, it is not whether these tensions exist or not
Inner feelings of ecstasy or agony play their part
It’s how we handle and ascertain life’s various scripts
Life’s many ups and downs, its differential treatments
Pills and potions instrumental by Nicki Minaj
Mixed emotions
They feel like the ocean
The waves come and I run from them
(Repeat 1x)
I still run I still run I still run
I still run
(Repeat 1x)
These feelings that I keep having
Be having me feeling like I'm dragging
I be trying to put the past behind
Pat my self on the back I'm doing just fine
Life sometimes feel like a nursery rhyme
I can still hear it time after time
Then I remember this voice in my head
That said
There is more to you than what people see
And have you heard of jealousy
They get bent out of shape for me being me
But I am one of a kind
Will forever be on someone mind
Mixed emotions
They feel like the ocean
The waves come and I run from them
(Repeat 1x)
I still run I still run I still run
I still run
(Repeat 1x)
People in life
Can be so judgemental
Do the math
See the differential
Love to see you down
Hate to see you up
Comfortability
Will get you stuck
Got to dig your way out
Out the mud we Know what that's about
We cut from different cloths
We can always be a boss
But it come with determination
No matter what you facing
There will be some fakes
That will clap
And in reality treat you like crap
So what do we do
Take the lense see the view
Realize the real from the fake
Gourmet meals on my plate
Filet mignon and the steak
Come here lets share
Real ones will always be there
Mixed emotions
They feel like the ocean
The waves come and I run from them
(Repeat 1x)
I still run I still run I still run
I still run
(Repeat 1x)
Hook
Emotions running through me
No longer care
How people view me
And I start to run
Touch the moon and the sun
I still run I still run I still run
I still run
(Repeat 1x)
Written by : Concetta Hardnett
02/08/2022
The Pekwachnamaykoskwaskwaypinwanik
Melting and Annealing Process Company
was Established in @029
He was no engineer! He thought he
was smart but he was actually foolish.
One of his Gal Companions told
him to stop breathing on her candy bar.
She liked Mars candy bars and he she said to him
to stop breathing on her candy.
He got an idea from that!
He had heard that Moxie was breathing on the Martian
surface. And
a discussion leaned toward finding diamonds on the Martian surface.
Well days went by and he couldn't
stop talking about the woman and her candy.
A guy told him to change the subject
that he thought
man could use a process to man gold and quarts.
He said One ton of sand and 1/2 ton of iron particles
from the iron grinding industry
mixed with calcium oxide
sodium oxide
and magnesium oxide
he would allow rusted iron and water to form
and would use it to create a reaction
so the oxided slurry would
form over the sand mixture
were a process of quart create and gold
separation could occur. He found the process would take to long to generate wealth: but
he found that a reformation of melted sand could crystalize and create beautiful crystal that would be valuable
in shaping to create valuable pieces.
differential scanning calorimeter
Silver sand
silica- sand
potash and
red-lead.
Referencing to the smallest individual unit a combined entity made up of multiple parts.
Such a fate we all share, yes, every single one.
Set in stone and sealed, awaiting Kingdom Come.
However you may enter, each differential circumstance, the difference made is none.
Hands of a ticking clock strike the hour, declaring that time Living here will have reached its end, and our final day be done.
Resting besides those unfortunate less fortunate souls.
Riches remain within rich pockets of inheriting soles, unlike others whose feet are bare and are cold, stand firm on the earth you now lay beneath.
Families of both either benefit or wealth, share puffy eyes and salty tears as they heavily weep, the same sadness and the same feelings of heart-aching grief.
Blood bled and bleeding red, layering cuts skin deep, choosing one's self-choices, and ranking bestowed upon by society, mean nothing once we sleep.
To Kingdom Come, shall our destination be ironclad, placing our final sitting seat.
Opposite living and separated by morality.
Yet each for a loved one is waiting to reunite with, and again cross paths they will meet.
I, too, dislike poems.
I’ve tried runes (and rampikes)
but that’s affected
rather than merely effete.
So I call them
figments.
When people query
What do you write?
at a barbecue or birthday party
I say soliloquies,
fractals,
fragments.
Self-similarities,
singularities,
sculptures (scriptures), geometric shapes and series,
three dimensional triangles, spheres
and differential equations,
fractured fairy tales,
Rocky and Bullwinkle,
rectal impactions.
On the other hand,
bits, bots, bytes
remnants, scrap, earth
gobs of phlegm in grains of sand,
shards of glass in a slice of hell,
hunks and clumps, curds and whey, sleet and pain, slap in the face
sub-atomic particles, cell organelles,
chunks of energy, cookie crumbs,
rusty trucks stuck in mud, dustings for ghosts,
just plain dumb luck, rocks, concrete, but not tweets.
Things bloom more beautiful when breaking down.
The nave now ploughs through foams of flowering trees,
a frozen caravel. Kissed by the breeze,
the river surface suddenly seems to frown
exquisitely. The apse’s jaunty crown
of weeds above one (sightless) eye would please
romantic poets. What was once a friese
lies strewn about, a shaley shanty-town.
We love whatever withers, atrophies.
To see a calked construction founder, drown
beneath its own detritus, by degrees
slough off its shape and, sinking to its knees,
expire, is satisfying. Velvet gown?
We’d much prefer to see a soiled chemise.
A lake? A cloud? A mountain? Megan Fox?
If we acknowledge Beauty in these things,
what are we saying? As when Smokey sings,
or girls emerge in slinky summer frocks,
something’s taking place outside the box
of regularity, and sprouting wings.
How might we classify these happenings?
A rupture in the norm? The whole Baroque’s
built on this very point. If Beauty rocks,
what is the special quality it brings,
and why is it so pleasing? Beauty flings
a spanner in the works of Orthodox,
and laughs at Workaday. It mocks
our essence, lurks in quirks, and smirks at clocks.
“The Wordsworth ouevre is cretinous. Discuss.”
The Long, Laborious Quest, The Sparrow’s Nest,
The Noble Oak of Guernica, Addressed –
We can’t escape the feeling he’s a wuss.
His subjects are unconscionable, plus
the rhymes he uses are a facilefest.
If only he were even half in jest!
His humour’s unintentional, and thus
more entertaining than he could have guessed.
Yet something in his scribblings seems to wrest
significance from dross, analogous
to Newton’s differential calculus,
invented by the by, at whim’s behest.
When Wordsworth falls apart, he’s at his best.
A cheetah avoided the trap that night
And the wild cat escaped the shot.
Someone was there for them to learn
And each of them were taught.
The Bear had chosen to spare the cubs
For the ease of the Mother Bear.
But the man with the gun
Fell pray to own stun
And we didn't drop any tear.
"Was this the Kingdom the people asked for",
Had wondered the old young man.
Was this Forest Spirit?
I gave way to the might
To spare extinct life near it.
This is the trap the noble beast
Avoid it and stay secure.
"But are you to teach animal wild
How to handle the life of the least?"
Bear, Wolf pack and the Black Cat
had adopted small human kid.
When he grew he led his army to shed
The skin of the huge snake.
The snake was wise
And venom was nice
Taking life of the gunman.
Where body remain
There's no soul in vain
As there wasn't soul at all.
There people in lab
They study us
But the small insect flew
It took one small bite
And that was right
And such is the story of ew.
The neckless cheetah had worn
Was there to see how migrate.
They count each animal of the world
But valuing own rate.
There people came with the cross
And said "Don't eat your grandma".
Yet no body remain
But the wild soul remain
Dwelling being that much afar.
Food chains of the world become franchise.
"But in which sense regards the wild?"
You are eating brand, the starch and the scent,
civilization of the descent.
Vegetarian Lion lives in the Zoo
Within the claustrophobic cage.
The dumb and the cross
yet bears idea about the inexistence of the Nitrogen.
There is nothing however about wrong
Human fights for the human life.
I am standing near with sharp cosa
When the times comes for partial differential.
See if poeple would rot to become
cultivation means,
Maybe there could be so much
fertile soil
so there wouldn't be the need to always win.