Long Multiplication Poems
Long Multiplication Poems. Below are the most popular long Multiplication by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Multiplication poems by poem length and keyword.
We are all navigating through life!
We are all growing in different ways!
Since, money is the root of all evil.
Use money to bless the needy!
Be knitted with family and friends
When one is weak, the other is strong
When both are weak, He is stronger!
Remember God is our primary source!
He is our solution and righteous judge!
He knows our inner most thoughts!
He knows the plans He has for us!
Since we all err and miss it in life
Having a teachable, correctable spirit
Will unlock the chained gates
Cause things to rebloom in our lives!
For the pure in heart will see Him
For those who have His heart
Will see Him! So, Rejoice!
For extraordinary multiplication
Of grace is coming our way!
Be Bold! Be Triumphant!
Get ready for the double portion!
Wear the new mantle for this season
With grace and multiplication!
Mental stretching, the required sacrifice
Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division
To all exercises, these four are the basics
Hell on paper but sweet in its understanding
Equations and formula, serving as raw products
Mastering the existence of numbers to gain its wisdom
Arithmetics also in a graphical representation
Then its technicalities in shapes and planes
Into life's activities, these applications silently integrate
Calculation of numbers and expressions
Sum up all problems via solutions to an answer.
You will love fourth grade I was told by everyone
It is learning multiplication, algebra, truly much fun.
Do not get on the bad side though of Miss McLater.
She has the disposition of a fierce alligator.
She was the mysterious teacher we had never seen.
The other teachers had their photos up, but hers was green.
Just a field of grass, no person at all.
Labelled Miss McLater’s Grass, five feet tall.
I was shocked and horrified when she entered the room.
I felt threatened as her huge eyes promptly turned and zoomed.
She had an alligator’s head, or maybe it was face of a gator.
I knew I was never going to feel at ease with Miss McLater.
a day inside my mind
What to do? There is so much news
Trump, my mate, didn't do so well. he thought
he could wing it
against a woman whose handlers had dissected
Trump's tendency to brag, beside we must not forget
my old mate is seventy-eight
I have posts in the messenger but can't get in the asks
me for code words, they never asked before
if they have, I have forgotten it all
mind at school, I was good at the multiplication table
but after that, numbers are enemies that cause me
trouble with the tax people
My wife had minor surgery today. I spent
the day at the hospital had lunch there,
The hospital is next door to the car- a testing place where I have to bring my old car for testing
once a year, if the vehicle fails
it will be a catastrophe if that is not enough,
I have to renew
my driving license, which we old people have to do
every year to see if we can drive
I have to give the car to my mechanic to iron out the faults
then I have to see a doctor who will test my hearing
and reactions to sudden happenings.
Most of all, I worry about my wife, sit watching
a TV romance, for once, she is silent
Dampen talk in a hesitant time
Uncertainties of a procrastinating hour
Where life goes on … and on...and on
With some obvious happenings of the inevitable
Blemish talk only highlights the stigma of a stagnation
Where neither you nor I are able to be someone
Other than only living in a life of necessity
Those pernicious happenings go on with
the description of a disaster. With a lot of
Repetition of a traverse, repentant mind
Where we are blocked with
A roadblock and a sentry,
Always alternating,
Always calculating
The ingredients of laughter
Ambivalence is a residual reality
of the heavily guarded possibility
Still, there is love, there is a poem,
And there is a visage of heavenly affection
With an astral temptation of life,
Garnishing more and more along with;
Perhaps an enterprise of goodliness. With the
Threatening math multiplying the powerful zero.
there is such a lark;
visions of gardens, butter flies lit up;
poisons passions of Lilly's dancing in the breeze;
impalas crossing over;
moths eating off the evergreens;
where's the soup, who ate the lemon trees;
what does this mean;
IT'S ALL A MATTER OF DARK;
the brown and gray matter;
slipped off the swing;
little golden boys and girls, lovely Sonja eaten by the witch Hazel;
and I thought she was made?
what is black N white television;
what is X-ray vision;
and whom am I to minus multiplication;
Divisions
there's a park on the moon;
and on a star lit night;
I can see Jupiter;
and that's alright;
but where our you now Mr. Lions;
and who stole the cow, Mrs. Turtledove;
all I can see is nothing and I spilled the Ali-gator aide;
all I have is the darkness, while participating in this moon-lit parade;
there such a lark;
children and elderly both dancing in the park;
basketball players, congregations in search of. . . sinners;
and when the cloud break forth;
who is there left standing
I am so entangled, in the grief left holding;
the brown and grey matter slipped off the swing;
blue and purple joined in the spring;
and I don't have a thing,
cept'
IT'S ALL A MATTER OF DARK
Form:
The new strategy schoolchildren are learning is called ‘find your voice’.
Amazing to me, as I think many of them have definitely already found theirs.
When I was a school child, we were not encouraged to find our voice.
We were rather encouraged to lose ours.
Wait. I am wrong. We were not allowed to have a ‘voice’.
We were the children, not on the same “playing level” as adults.
Today’s student is encouraged to buy into the school system by helping to plan it.
The theory is if they do not have a say, and they are not able to express their voice,
They do not “have” to buy into the system.
They could not possibly buy in.
We did not have a voice. We were taught to behave though.
We did not have any say, or any freedom, or any power.
The teachers were all-powerful in the ‘good ole’ days’.
Which was okay if you had an honest, fair, teacher.
But…well, you know there were some mean horrible ones out there.
On the other hand, we were taught to memorize, and we did not question why.
School was our job, and we wanted to do our job.
We respected our parents, and our parents respected school, so we respected school also.
A voice? We did not need one.
We had multiplication, we had spelling, we had reading we had a parent, and we had a teacher.
Some were wonderful, others shut us completely down, but we still tried to learn something.
Psychologically, we were brilliant, because we quickly learned to not share ideas unless they were the teacher’s ideas.
I am still pondering the concept of student voice. Interesting, huh?
The Amnesic Liturgy of Nomadic Gestures
we keep on our foreheads impatience sharp as a lunar scythe
the mulatto day laid its tired body on the cold flagstone
in the transparent eye of the horse the velvet raven startles
beneath bear furs we carry the three bodies of morning
the thornbush remembers the ceremony on the yellow millstone of newspaper
three crystal wings for each nomad with their mechanics
the tree inventories our voice when its trembling crown
gathers sensations in a translucent orbit of smile
we inaugurate the hour of love on the collarbone when green sky collapses
how we transform the bent knee into severe balance
the die with glowing numbers rolls the player's palms
fertile whisper slows the burning tongue of the white thigh
silence unties its deep wells I hear the sky with fingers
the transparent clarity of the eyelid signs the violet evening's pupil
great monuments fall drowsy in their fanatic dream leaning
you keep the red apple on your head the error of foreseen arrow
the prey has hidden in the hunter's ankle without dangers
I with mouth full of seaweed with nostril snowed by ice
unprotected by fear I dig with the comb's teeth the exile of names
on the bell in its monotonous beating remains the golden pollen
on the rough bark of words a hoary forgotten breeze
weathered by rains at the radiant dwelling of lightning
slow multiplication pulverizes meaning and about this
your nape brings back the penumbra of serpents discus throwers
you throw the umbrella of echoes far like a liquid miracle
proportional trunks for the almost confluent sleep
advisory restlessness has left us for the silent ball
with its hay mask stuck to cheeks paled by moon
tomorrow anyway you'll resume the journey across green plains
in the shrill acclamations of the grasshopper the forgotten lamp
the fork twists itself toward velvety darkness
the warm wax of the kiss protects us from dizzy grass
we breathe deeply listening to the memory of drowned waters
I never voted, anyhow supported, never trusted
Those who rule now
Yet I am claimed responsible
Over the deeds of people I never trusted
And my name is not Josef K.
In the light of the absurdity of what’s happening,
The catastrophe of the rational and the triumphs of the irrational
I have a humble request
To masterminds that manage
The great impersonal AI
Keep the dystopian novels away from it.
For if you let the AI read those books
It can use them as direct instructions
To set the fairiest society on earth
Exactly like you’re doing now
Without AI support, all by yourselves
But with the help of AI
The multiplication of entities will increase,
and Occam's Razor will be a network of hairdressers.
Reduction to the absurd will be norm
Argumentum ad hominem will be considered as the proof of decency
As it actually happens now, but a written law will state it.
City of the Sun will replace the Bible.
There will be no more art, for art will be deemed as a loophole
For those who shirk control over the control of those who control.
The list of forbidden thoughts will be updated daily.
It is my duty to warn.
The rest is entirely at your disposal.
Thank you.
Life’s equation works in a different way,
each moment is accounted for as is each day,
one be one, as we pass through time’s sieve,
what remains in the end is charity we give.
balance in the bank does not follow you,
friends and relatives will soon bid adieu,
all that wealth does not matter anymore,
your values are morals to settle the score.
life’s biology has different rules,
let us forget all that is taught in schools,
one plus one two, is not how it is done,
two people in love may say they are one!
when a child is result out of these two,
one plus one is three, that answer is true,
as more children come, there is a new tally,
as they become part of one family!
additions, subtractions, beyond our hands,
equations written no one understands!
foolishly we count sunrise and sunsets,
yet ignore the heart that beats in our chests?
in the big stream of life each drop is known,
each tree is counted, each seed that is sown,
each life created, each leaf that is dead,
each word spoken, many that are unsaid!
many have been and gone and more will come,
multiplication is part of this sum,
statistics here has no median, no mean,
sad tears that we shed do not wipe them clean.
the assembled gold medals on display,
will be sold in the market cheap one day,
that brave soldier and that pious old priest,
their value in sand, no different from beast!
equations of life are different kind,
never needed wealth that is left behind,
no matter what is in your final will,
sum total of your life is always nil!!
from nothing we come to nothing we go,
between those zeros, life is a transient show,
they who know this truth, know the travel route,
we know not Life’s true ‘power’ , nor its square root!
10 syllables each line
rhyme aa, bb, cc…
Beyond that- it does not matter,
life will write its own equation!