Long Pascal Poems
Long Pascal Poems. Below are the most popular long Pascal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pascal poems by poem length and keyword.
"Turn on the television",
Says an angel munching popcorn,
At the end of each century
"What are the humans up to?"
15th Century:
Columbus exploring lands on unending voyages
Enchanting symphonies of musicians
Words printed publicly
On yet another note,
Empires waging wars for supremacy
16th Century:
Shakespeare sprinkles an era of Literature
Novel religions blend together
World marvels at inventions
Oh! Their foolish twist,
Struggling against man made plagues
17th Century:
Pascal, Boyle, Newton bask in glorious Science
Folks marvel at exquisite cuisines
Discover how universe expands
But humans need a change,
How about propagating slavery
18th Century:
Darwin and Berkeley penetrate philosophic minds
Austen explores societal strata
Mozart floats among harps
Well enough, humans think
Let's plot royal conspiracies
19th Century:
Civilizations soar with industrial revolution
Pasteur creates life-saving vaccines
Giant machines uplift cities
Isn't that much for now
Time to expand slave colonies
20th Century:
Theories leave immortal traces in all fields
Carbon dating, electromagnetic rays,
Nuclear reactions building spaceships
Humans have a different need
Devastating nuclear bomb thrills
Bored, angels switch to channel Earth
Only two decades past 21st century,
Interstellar voyages, flying planes,
A primitive human wouldn't believe,
But oh they can never change,
Bubbling venom of cold wars,
Dead humanity, tortured nature,
Cheap thrills of pointless debates.
"Okay that's been a while I say,
It is time to give them a taste.
At regular intervals in this century,
Humans with their wolfish greed
Surpassing idiocy need a pause."
Combating over money, religions,
Nature, opinions, nothing else
While humans oppose each other
Forgetting to ponder their doings
Angels and demons dance together
Letting nature throw up for a while
God laughs as he tunes for showtime,
"And now for something completely different..."
May 20, 2020
I love this planet
The environment I hold dear
I say no to Oil
I say no to Plastic
I say no to Garbage
I say NO NO NO to carbon
Oh the trees breathe carbon?
I will have to look into that Ted!
I say no to meat
Those animals are carbon monsters
We all should hug this planet
Preserve this global biosphere for our children dear
You all must cut back
All of you
You may not pick and chose
What fits your fancy
No more vacations away for you
No more cars
No more planes
No more Computers or high speed trains
No more deodorant
It’s all passe
Clean air is my right, so all of you stop
I shall preach to you this, day in and out
I shall scold you for polluting about
I shall travel the globe, by air you see
To warn you all of the carbon to be
I need to fly, my time is important
My family comes first, but that’s only me
You must make sacrifice
All of you there
I spend your Carbon credits
Flying in the air!!!
Yours truly
Pascal Husting
Green Peace
One of Greenpeace’s most senior executives, Pascal Hunting commutes 400 kilometers each way to work by plane, the environmental group has admitted. The flights, costing about $365 return, are paid by Greenpeace, even though it campaigns to cut air travel, arguing that the growth in flying “is ruining our chances of stopping dangerous climate change.”
Notes: Of course I am for the environment, who isn’t? Time to stop blaming big corporations and even governments, even though they should do more, here’s a novel idea, if you don’t use it, they will go bankrupt trying to sell it! As for Pollution, if you are having a heart attack, a bandage on your thumb doesn’t do a bit of good. Solutions are complex and not as black and white as some make you to believe.
the man lay dying &
like many men before
he was suddenly surrounded by an
intervening troupe
whose mission it was to make him
like them
“before it was too late”---
now,
whether or not “too late,”
is a measurable amount of time,
outside the obvious notion that
one’s death is one’s death,
all she wrote, etc. etc.,
understand that there are those
that believe there is a life beyond &
that there is a boogeyman in the sky
watching over us all &
torturing us all,
in that dual love/hate psychosis
which the
interveners aspire to.
to “protect himself from himself,”
to “save him,”
the interveners claim that they are
coming between him & the force
that he hasn’t submitted to---
“if you just make your peace with him,
all will be well,” they suggest
like a mafia don wanting a service
in the future,
capitalizing on the desperation that comes
from a person in dire straits
whose life has already been compromised
by an illness.
thrusting the cowardly & dishonest wager
of pascal, the delusion of “eternal happiness
in the hereafter,” and the possibility of
all the wrongdoings of a life somehow
being “forgiven”
(as if all those living,
breathing, humans involved, were to
forgive him as well, by default, for all
the wrong that he has done to them)
in his face,
these savage idiots put all their energy
into making one more notch in their
belt, one more “conversion” prior to a
person’s death, one more action which
they feel no regrets or misgivings
about---because “they did the right
thing”---
they “saved his soul.”
and they do so with an authority
gained from nothing,
a hubris that stems from nowhere &
the audacity
of a fascist dictator forcing that first
will into complete submission.
i'd remembered you why it was
that august week dazed i suppose
you were the meek i'd settled beyond
the graveness that shattered my senses
unable to feel taste or even smell
my eyes glowed a gentle childlike expression
my thoughts were being composed organized
deep inside a mental maze sadness reaching amid
sulking gravity craved an yet distant hazy emotions
seemed to loom throughout my sultry madness
why it consumed me completed my inner most being
i knew what i'd become memories nothing but memories
preceded me within the sheer death of my mind the dying
brain shattered bruised broken as i awaited sparks to trigger
signals to arouse my cunning speech impaired utterly so an yet
i'd remember you the taken the meek that august week autumn
stood still as red orange brown yellow leaves gathered beneath
my colorful painted toes drifting into pascal thought becoming sheer
wrath bestowed somewhere between my blind eyes ringing chimes
madness went unnoticed staring off into empty spaces where thought
should be replaced with blankness madness had rolled in with
the evening tides the light house in view gently i embraced
the coming of the calm the vacant room in the attic of my mind
i rushed inside myself searching for pleasant memoirs
my mind became a dusty music box the lost tune set sail
on a distance thrusting desire leaving me panting my heart
racing my simple mind showed no remorse after i'd stored
love installed passion collected happiness an yet my mind greedily
took it all into a covenant of haste a hidden place called insanity
it was that august week my thoughts drifted into a game of hide and seek
Sandwiches perched on plate, remote control in one hand,
he settles heavily on comfy couch as the TV goes alive.
A sweet and sexy voice cuts in the heavy atmosphere;
“Weather forecast: Now we move to the tropical depression….”
He’s alert; eyes are held by slim fit skirt and moulding top.
“…menacing our island. This is the zone of low pressure…”
With extraordinary care, he arranges the plate on the table and tries to listen.
But eyes are riveted to the waves of graceful movement as she stretches her arm and walks on needle sharp heels to indicate some drawings on the map. He flinches.
Her words fall on buzzing ears “...atmospheric pressure tends to intensify…”
The pressure in the living room is intensifying as she goes on
with a killing smile, as if it is the greatest joy of the world for her to declare
“…from 1007 to 1004 hectopascal, in the next 24 hours….”
“What’s that?... What pascal??....” he is irritated.
“Oh! Why does it have to be young women like her doing this?”
“…which will be sustained with gust of wind of 60 to 61 kms per hour…” she goes on facing the camera boldly.
Her blouse is too tight on her breasts…
He swears in an attempt to diminish her power over him and scoffs her knowledge…
His ego is shaken and a voice inside his head warns
“Fool...Learn some more on atmospheric pressure to understand weather forecast!”
Still, her coy smiles are suffocating, he sweats and eyes her hungrily.
Feverish eyes search for her name at the bottom of the screen.
Not bad….he gives a devilish grin: She is the next!
20 Aug 2017
Deep into the darkness okay
I heard a blessing dandy okaying
Holy holy said I think of m o s q u e. away
I awoke and flung away the kindness
Obeying once upon a midnight
Saintly holy holy glorious I rejoice
I yes holy holy once I set engaged
Inhaling by the grave I saw a man
Yelling his claim was I am the All I am
And so I screamed
Is that an angel or Christ instead I had covered
I muttered holy glorious I rejoice I yes holy holy
My Worship I could not awaken
And the Hallelujah never missing that respondorial Jerusalem
That responsoria Jerusalem once I said engaged inhaling
The distinguished Divine decline the amens
Brought such sorrow
And holy holy glorious
I rejoice I yes holy holy final points
Fell I Fall and struck to our hearts
That decent decent hummings sings
The choir in r&B I crave
The heavenly hollowed hello
Where is the Halo much are this I marveled
The spiritual doxology the sacred sobbing
Crying holy glorious
I rejoice I yes holy holy and utter basis for singing shouting
Hallelujah higher highest praise take yon pascal lamb
From out of my heartlings
I threw my exhortations upon the floor
Raised that moment my soul grew t i n c t u r e d
Praise raised fingers Holy Glory I rejoice I say yes
Holy Holy push said away deep
And into the darkness sticking in there
Stepped a non-religious person the plain chant
Don't go non-religious says the sinners the saints and the atheists
Holy glorious I rejoice I yes holy holy
11/16/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Memory
I am my memory.
This piece of the world, this brief sprouting
Amongst many thinking radishes,
Exists only as resonances within
Lacy neurons; Flanders’ delicate patterns
Sustained by glial skeletons,
Beyond the spider’s web or silent
Snowflake in elegant complexity.
I am memory:
Identity, selfness, the compass of my person,
Shaped by the universe’s unknowingness
Of my reedlike form; yet I know I exist,
And know of my fate,
And of the fate of the universe,
Which is the power of my memory
And humankind’s collective memory.
I am:
And therefore recreated endlessly by my memories which,
Shallow-like, bow to my insecurities
Played out in my mind; ironically,
Feeding my own undermining,
Poignant recall of joy and bittersweet sorrow,
Given force by visceral emotion, shaping “I”
Anew, through endless rehearsal.
I:
Who is: only in relation to you, another,
My child, parent, brother, sister, a lover,
Bosom friend; like me, the sum
Of memories, which we share
And are thus part of each other,
All one, yet separate, connected
Through memory.
The memories of you fade,
Yet do not disappear, and
Give truth to my thoughts
On memory, and my identity;
Me, whom you pursued until
I caught you, and gave
Me memories happy and sad,
That shape me still..
with acknowledgements to
Blaise Pascal, William Shakespeare, Rene Descartes, Eric Kandel, John Locke, the Lace makers of Belgium....and Georgia
Someone tells you change not because you are not good
But because you do not act the way they think you should
Neither is it because they don’t think you’re not bad
It is just a reaction when they are either mad or sad
A special person in your life ask you to make some change
However uniqueness allows someone to remain the same
You are special, in your own right, just the way you are
Singing out of tune and rhythm while driving in your car
Change however may not be bad in the pursuit of perfection
Sadly that journey isn’t easy and takes much introspection
What are the things you desire, and where do you want to be
Will these things make you truly happy, or only temporarily
Are these things that you can’t live without in the long run
Or temptations of the flesh, that only provide a quick fun
One asks, what does it matter only the test of time will tell
Should I place a Pascal wager to avoid what they call hell
The very thought of that seems a vain attempt at very best
However when the time comes will I did my very own test
Change, Aristotle, said was the only thing that doesn’t change
Clever word circles like these though do very little to explain
Indeed his idea was much more complex than I’ve stated
But, then again most people would say that he’s outdated
To change definitely one of the most difficult things to do
It something that you must really desire, this much is true
By Wayland Bunch 2/14/2013
Measure men not in meters,
Yet in volume of ventricle, you’ll find,
Compassion therein, one’s true capacity,
Of magnitude meaning, undefined,
How little broad shoulders do matter,
To bolster an orphan through rem,
Nor biceps do shelter maternal sadness,
As she leaves droplets under the stem,
It’s in the weight he holds onto a syllable,
For he knows the force which unfolds,
A gentle note, his frequent reprise,
Amplifies resonance in young and old,
At length he smiles, beams of luminous youth,
To displace an aging darkness found in you,
Counts not the flames all ready blue, rather the
Lines of laughter, which alight your face in lieu,
Currency he finds a fictitious banquet,
Only for whom Dyne in dwindling power,
Sufficiency bestows the imperial value,
Only to whom embrace solely this hour,
Degrees of perception not bound by paper,
He sees no end, to his quest for knowledge,
As wisdom becomes his definitive asset,
Salmon so rare, caught far beyond college,
Like Pascal, men endure all bars atmospheric,
While so few bow only in gesture to humility,
Wounds fail to callous his resilient demeanor,
In respect to his embodiment of human fragility,
All stellar souls dwarf, as death begins its call,
While novas shine brighter, learnt in its latter’s fall,
So measure not, the meters of men,
But the loving moments, left behind them.
Scapes and Tales
Hearts and Fences
Tales of Joe Louie McMar
Book 1 - Canadian Bacon
Of Belle and Beaux
When I See You I Miss You
Marjorie and Isabella
The Jester and DeLilah
Peaches and Cream
The Struggle
Laura Can You Hear Me
Laura
Laura Mean
Canadian Bacon
DeMilah
Stephanie
Blaze Pascal
August
Love is Like a Melody
Cavan Lake, Alberta
L is for Love
Ain’t Life Grand
The Gift
The Ride
Mom
The Folks
The Rock
Blue Eyes
Joe Louie
Book 2 - The Dark Years
Saint Anthony
Thirteen Wasn't Lucky
Don't forget to breathe
The Legend or DeMar
Hunny Do
Hezekiah Munny
The Dream
Diligence
The Smithy
Broken
Death of a Legend
Bless eo Momma
The Rodeo
Cardiac Distress
The Fake Ticket - a sequel
The Halls of Hell
The Girls
The Fake Ticket
I saw Mary
The devil went over
Uncanny
Thoughts
Let It Go
The meaning of demar *
The Dark Years *
The sins of Stephen Duncan *
The Sons of Eeny Meanie*
Issaquena County *
Book 3 - Redemption
Heaven's Hall
The Birthday
Glowing
The Trainman
The Poet
Divided Indeed
Ode to Bob
Prairie Prayer
My Heart is Empty
B.B. On a Mountain Top
P.J. and the Leprechaun
An Erago
Half an Erago *
Fifteen Faces a Sequel *
Sixteen Approaches to Teach *
The meaning of gleaning *
Redemption *