Long Pythagoras Poems
Long Pythagoras Poems. Below are the most popular long Pythagoras by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pythagoras poems by poem length and keyword.
The face in the mirror has changed
No longer do I see a handsome youth
Instead I see the ravages of age
Hair falling out and turning grey
Lines in my forehead
Well, I'm holding up pretty well
considering that have touched the face of death
in my past
and lived to tell of my ordeal
I watch the tableau of trees outside my window
Taste the light while I still can
Drink deeply from the well of life
I now know that I will be able to face the darkness
which all of us must face
I smile - knowing that the years (to quote Pythagoras)
are but the stream I go fishing in
This poem was written by poet : Anish Matthew
Poem Title : Facing The Darkness
Posted at PS : May 9, 2018
a jolly darling right angle went straight out of the lateral box
fed up with grinding a living on the periphery of pure reason
he thought back to his square roots and longed for a change
his strict Dad Monty Pythagoras had been rather level headed
had equated logic premises and conclusions with happiness
a refined man steeped in knowledge in search for great virtue
his Mom Pi however never lived up the promise of her name
strayed from her calculated path of predetermined precision
abandoned caution and boredom and soaked in a bubbly bath
Archimedes my **** I can’t throw the baby out of the water
had a fling with Plato in his cave and settled for the kitchen
made the best strawberry crumble from recipes of her aunt
Little Monty Pi enjoyed whipped cream and emotion much more
than obedience and hypothenuses and left mere equations behind
licked off the whisk and dreamed of the perfect circle for good
vanilla emotions danced with sweet sugar candy mountains as
his feelings submerged into a fantasy world coated in cinnamon
he was warned that he might have eggy intuitions on his face
for shells would easily crack and ovations weren’t perfectly round
but his world was not flat anymore and he wished for perspectives
of a different kind than sitting in the lost corner at ninety degrees
if you can stand the heat you should remain in the bakehouse
savour cookies or condensed milk tarts for such exquisite cuisine
beats mere cognition and the dour fragrance of stale rationale
Mum chuckled while Dad despaired and took out his slide rule
proposed that life was no honey pot and cooking was effluvium
misleading and not up to the fine task of consequential virtues
but like most kids he would only listen to what he wanted to hear
put Nirvana on the headphones and closed his mind to objections
eventually he learnt that life was really a giant rigged rollercoaster
maybe the strawberries were laced with psychedelic truth serum
or the icing on the gateau was to abandon forethought and planning
most of all that he was neither circle nor angle and just needed to be
30th August 2020
We sit together in the shadowed halls beyond time—
Plato, Socrates, Spinoza, Protagoras,
Aristotle, Pythagoras, Kant, Descartes, Aquinas—
our words once rivers,
now dust in the mouths of men.
I, Plato, speak first:
“I left you the Sun,
the realm beyond your cave of illusions—
but you turn your face from the light,
content with dancing shadows.”
Socrates leans forward,
his eyes burning with quiet fire:
“I said, I know that I know nothing,
but you still clothe ignorance in arrogance,
mistaking noise for wisdom.”
Spinoza raises his head to the heavens:
“I told you God and Nature breathe as one—
but you split them apart with the knife of pride,
searching for the divine in the clouds,
while trampling it underfoot.”
Protagoras’ voice cuts the air:
“Man is the measure of all things—
yet you measure yourself by gold,
by conquest,
by the trembling of those beneath you.”
Aristotle sighs:
“I gave you the golden mean,
the path between excess and deficiency—
but you still feast on extremes,
drunk on desire,
starved of virtue.”
Pythagoras strikes the table once:
“I showed you the harmony of number,
the music of the spheres—
but you play only the drumbeat of greed,
drowning the stars in smoke.”
Kant’s gaze is unblinking:
“I told you there are things
reason can never touch—
yet you batter mystery with logic,
as if infinity would bow to your syllogisms.”
Descartes whispers coldly:
“I think, therefore I am,”
but you think without being,
you are without knowing,
you live without awakening.
And then Aquinas, heavy with sorrow, speaks last:
“I showed you the marriage of faith and reason—
but you have divorced them,
making orphans of truth and grace alike.”
We sit in silence now,
watching your world from the edge of eternity—
a world that thinks itself wise,
yet gropes in darkness,
holding the candle
backwards.
Ambition is to play the Cello
Becoming a most talented fellow
Cellists make such sumptuous sounds
Delighting audiences the whole world round
Encouragement to take up lessons
From former cellist Hubert Hasbeen
Grimacing when he hears me play
Hasbeen lasted a week and a day
I was downhearted ~ I began to cry
Just when I spied her grandeur from the corner of my eye
Keyboard ~ Kettle drum ~ neither one did I desire
Laughing loudly I had found the one to set the world on fire
My heart it skipped a beat as I approached her silver feet
Nothing else would do for me the sound was so unique
Once I stood in front of her she smiled ~ it was so sweet
Playfully I stroked her keys as I began to feel at ease
Quivering with excitement and dropping to my knees
Resolute to practice every day and every night
Stoically determined to reach my ultimate peak
The Royal Philharmonic well they called me up one day
Unknown to me they’d heard my work and wanted me to play
Vowing to do my very best
When I auditioned with the rest
Xylophonist extraordinaire
Yells and cheers from all my peers
Zenith reached as played Pythagoras’ music of the spheres
Written 9th February 2020
Contest ABECEDARIAN
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
1st PLACE
Contest Strand Select J
Sponsor Brian Strand
2nd PLACE
Long before Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Greeks,
Before Hammurabi, Sargon and Ramses ruled
The world below their feet;
Before biblical scenes and mythological dreams
Of magical carpet rides,
I knew you back then
Where sea breezes begin
And history was a gleam in your eye...
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain,
They called you Ricotis as I recall
Earth Mother once called you by name.
Nestled on the Mediterranean Sea of monsters,
Pirates and explorers renowned,
You were not much more than desert floor
Until the conqueror came to town.
Alexander, Alexander, God-man, ruler-thought divine,
Sailed by your winds where the world begins
And knowledge was born and thrived.
In the halls of those palaces and places
He built from his own vision quest,
To rule a world of enlightened beings
Where all people could achieve their best.
Though he never quite saw your white marble walls,
With pillars of gold and blue;
Of the Serapeum filled with scholarly souls
Recording their own world view.
He never knew Pythagoras, philosopher, scientist extraordinaire;
Or the historians Philo and Josephus
And the volumes of memories they shared.
The early Christians, Church Fathers and Saints
Origen, Clement and Mark;
Alexander never knew what he finally did
When he gave you that worldly start.
You’ve seen the Pharos come and go,
Dynasties crumble and fall;
Romans and Greeks swept right off their feet
And Cleopatra’s castle walls.
Pagans, Jews and Christians too
All vying for your love;
As whispering winds of Freemason friends
Tell of Hermes below and above.
While Islam and Mohammed rule
In the shadow of the Sphinx,
Pyramids and temples filled with hieroglyphs
And obelisks that make you
Stop and think…
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain;
So little I’ve spoken about you today
Compared to all I’ve gained.
Since the first day I once met you
In that dream so way back when…
Alexandria, Alexandria, so glad we’re still
Good friends.
Love of truth
the very light of Greece
A peninsula thrust out
like a bony hand,
‘God-tormented Greece,’
Zeus exclaimed,
“I shall give man ‘an evil,’ as the price of fire:
They will clasp destruction with laughter of desire.”
The Gods live on-even though obscure.
Fate rules them too, as Zeus learns
the heroes must die; and the greater
the heroism the earlier the death.
Greece being, itself so divided
between the rational and irrational,
between logic and instinct,
between the scientific and the magical,
between the state of self possession
and that of being possessed,
and one can continue……
between symmetry and diversity,
between the recognition of limits
and the pursuit of the limitless,
between restraint and vaulting ambitions,
or hubris, Pythagoras in all his wisdom
could achieve no resolution or harmonia.
Of all these diverse elements, what was
greatest in him, and in Greece,
was the recognition of these conflicts
for what they were…….
that by grappling with them
a better order in life might then arise.
While taking stock of the library
Here in my home today, I found myself
Considering all the pages throughout the years
For which I’ve dearly paid. Voluminous
Paragraphs, chapters and verses from
Adam and Eve to Zen like prayers;
Trying to count the cost of so many books
Makes me wonder why I care. About
Astronomy and astrology, connections
Between all things; cosmology,
Biology, psychology and dreams.
Alchemy and metaphysics,
Landing on the moon;
Plato and Pythagoras,
The Wizard of Oz and Dorothy flying
Back home in a balloon. Still turning
Pages of ancient history, Egyptology,
Mythology and man’s search
For meaning within;
Aristotle, Shakespeare, Newton, Einstein wondering
What’s the secret to the universe and how
Did it begin?
Quantum physics, alien visits,
Lost without a clue;
Plants and flowers, greed and power
And why the sky is blue. Light and darkness,
Love and hate,
The Crusades and other wars;
The vanity and insanity of
Whatever we’re fighting for. Still more
Encyclopedias left to read before I’m through,
Having hardly skimmed the surface of what
Good books are meant to do.
If we take the time to sift and find
The nuggets of treasure within;
The price of a book can be priceless
And make a head and brain like supernova stars
Splendiferously spin.
I stopped by your desk to say hello today
As I so often do
To a lovely, young secretary like you.
Others may have thought something was amiss
Because I’m an older man and therefore,
My intentions must be nothing less
Than stealing your sweet kiss. But of course,
You and I know better than this…
Our conversation centered on the very stuff of stars: Creation Itself,
So near and yet so far. We wandered through the labyrinth of
History, time and space; debating transmigration
And the nature of God’s own face.
You quoted Jesus perfectly
As if you knew Him sure as rain;
While Plato, Philo and Pythagoras
All joined in our coffee break game.
Until we both agreed in the mystery
Of love, life and death;
Then saying goodbye with a twinkle in the eye and
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
Just another day with a beautiful girl
With a soul as wise as the wind…
Secrets revealed from invisible fields
Where beauty lies deeper than skin.
So forgive me if my intentions
Look less than they truly are.
But beyond the smile lie miles and miles
From the soul to the first bright star.
Pull up a chair, and don’t make a move!
We’ve got something we really must prove
‘Bout sides of a right triangle, num’bring three.
You’ve somewhere to be? I won’t hear your plea!
A plus B, squared, as in the picture I drew, (A+B)^2= C^2 + 4AB/2
equals C squared plus 4 times AB over two.
Next, smartly observe that four, two divides, (A+B)^2= C^2 + 2AB
and promptly subtract 2AB from both sides. (A+B)^2–2AB= C^2+2AB-2AB
Expand A plus B, squared; and then simplify. A^2+B^2 +2AB–2AB= C^2
You’ve just used your math to well justify A^2 + B^2 = C^2
and prove what Pythagoras wisely declared -
A squared plus B squared is exactly C squared.
God said: “Go, and have dominion over the Earth”—
Not over each other.
But you crowned yourselves kings of skin,
Painted whiteness as wisdom,
And turned melanin into a mark of sin.
You called yourself the center of the world,
A lighthouse of reason—
Yet every stone of your fortress
Was carved from stolen hands,
And every beam of your empire
Lit with oil drained from the voiceless.
What is white knows everything.
What is dark knows nothing—
So says the gospel of conquest,
Preached in your books,
Taught in your schools,
Stamped in your currency,
Breathed through your laws.
You erased Timbuktu from the classroom,
You turned Pharaoh into a European king,
You buried the bones of Ethiopia’s libraries
Under silence—
But truth is dustless.
It waits.
It watches.
It rises.
Did not Pythagoras and Plato
Bow to the temples of Kemet?
Did not Moses walk the banks of Black lands?
You pretend the drum beat began in Greece,
But it was Africa’s heart that taught the world to dance.
You credit Columbus with discovering a land
Already alive with ancient feet.
So were the natives ghosts?
Did they not bleed when your boots crushed their breath?
You wrote history like a mirror—
Showing only your reflection.
But the Earth has a memory.
And the children of the ones you whipped
Now carry fire in their eyes.
What will you say to your own descendants
When the tide turns?
When they are judged by the weight of your deeds,
When the system you built
Becomes the storm they fear?
What will you say in the silence of your grave
When they ask:
"Why did you lie to us?"
"Why did you enslave, erase, and exalt yourself above others?"
And the winds will whisper back:
Because they feared truth.
Because they feared that the first were never the last—
But the original.