Long Scientist Poems
Long Scientist Poems. Below are the most popular long Scientist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scientist poems by poem length and keyword.
Sighs yet again
a fold here,
a crease there
origami wings
that are limp,
drenched
looking pretty lonely and pathetic
under, that, crying, sky, , , ,
, , , ,
/////
It ironically fits well
into the day that is filled with cracks,
that spills into the evening----
s h a t t e r e d eggshells
that can't be beared to be buried,
only placed carefully with the dried leaves...
If only for a moment,
I keep my cradle of tears at bay,
as I let the moon do the weeping for me.
A mental tracking back
of the weeks, days, hours, minutes;
Let the scientist return to inference
Walk back to the time of hope and grief--
The dendrobium. The grasshoppers. The twisted bonsai.
Looking behind,
the footprints
are still there... . . . ..
Wash them away
with waves of laughter,
Erase all vestiges of me.
Forget I was ever here;
that should be easy
...I never meant much to you anyway
214a22801012016
This is a mash-up of sorts of several writes of mine. I stitched it up with some lines. Very rough, I know, just felt like squishing some of my writes & edits together.
Visualizing the Moon from Earth
Seeing the reflecting skies having entertainment of its own
The Moon craters are like being in a trap
Stuck with no way to get out
Distance beyond
Horizon showing preserver years away
Heart of appreciation
Wonders through the skies of sensation
One’s life, fate and realities
Capturing the moment
The how, when and beyond
Scientist often the universe doubt
But have they truly worked it out
The Universe strong in galaxy
Focus and vision aligning itself
Thinking like a Night star in twinkle
One wish at a time
Stars are the aspiration
My eyes attract
All in an instance
Days and nights deriving from past to present
Directing the target arrow of one’s inner thought
Research of some sought
Until tomorrow
Earth will always remember
The moment to sleep and slumber
Everyone in town knows
Philmon is a mad scientist
It's not his little hunchback buddy
Or the crazy smocks in which he's always dressed
It's not the lighting clouds over his house
Or the strange sounds from which his basement grew
No, it's not any of those things
That gives the town it's clue
It's not all of the darkened birds
That hang out on his fence
Or his subscription to weird science weekly
And on what it is his time is spent
Not even when things always turn up missing
Down at the local graveyard
No, it's the "HONK" if you love Mad Scientists sticker
On the bumper of his car
It was August 1st,
Army Day in China—
when I was escorted through concrete arteries
deep beneath the pulse of the city.
No cameras. No phones.
Just retinal scans, encrypted codes,
and a silence that pressed
like gravity.
They called it:
Project Wraith.
Rows of suits—no ordinary armor—
but fabrics interlaced with nano-carbon filaments,
reactive polymers,
and strands of bio-electric mesh
that shift molecular frequency
on command.
These were not soldiers.
They were phantoms,
encased in electrostatic cloaks,
their AI cores learning faster
than human instinct could fire.
Their bodies phased—
in and out of visibility,
through steel, through matter,
through perception itself.
One passed through me.
I felt nothing
but a drop in temperature,
like history brushing against the skin.
“We’ve weaponized light,” said the scientist beside me,
his voice cold, brilliant—
like an algorithm made flesh.
“Quantum-threaded suits sync with the cerebrum.
Cognitive field maps adjust in microseconds.
They think at the speed of war.
No lag. No doubt. No conscience.”
They spoke of field modulation,
time-split optics,
phase states.
Displacement theory had reached
deployment.
And in their brilliance,
I saw the fall—
the eclipse of soul by signal.
How far have we come?
We’ve bypassed sight,
rewritten space,
coded war into silence.
But who decides when the unseen strikes?
When the ghosts we built
turn on the living?
I left that tunnel changed.
The light above looked artificial,
the air too honest.
We have crossed into a war
without sound,
without shadow,
without warning.
And somewhere in the distance,
the last cry of humanity
echoed without echo—
heard only by
those still
fully human.
Shema ("Listen")
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...
Consider: is this a "man"
who slogs through the mud,
who knows no peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or his "no" lies dead?
Consider: is this is a "woman"
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?
Consider that such horrors have indeed been!
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.
Repeat them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.
Primo Michele Levi [1919-1987] was an Italian Jewish chemist, scientist, Holocaust survivor, writer, journalist and poet. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems. He is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Italian, Jewish, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject, race, racist, racism, man, men, woman, women, house, home
Everyone in town knows
Philmon is a mad scientist
It's not his little hunchback buddy
Or the crazy smocks in which he's always dressed
It's not the lighting clouds over his house
Or the strange sounds from which his basement grew
No, it's not any of those things
That gives the town it's clue
It's not all of the darkened birds
That hang out on his fence
Or his subscription to Weird Science Weekly
And on what it is his time is spent
Not even when things always turn up missing
Down at the local graveyard
No, it's the "HONK" if you love Mad Scientists sticker
On the bumper of his car
Santa clause get me hope for xmas, since its hard for my mind and heart to hope again. Magicians perform me tricks to overcome ths dissapointment and shock, I jst can't bear no more. Scientist discover in me once again, trust and strength to live with this world horrors.
In me, I know not how to react to this devastation, human in collision, both young and old's life in shambles. There's no level or meassurements to curb this might of distress and dispair, its just spilled waters and milk everywhere, hopeless!
In which part of this Earth can I locate reset button, are there any archeologist to help me trace biblical authors's graves and tombs? maybe through them my grievences will reach to God
#Poetic_Ink
Icarus
I have been so fascinated by Icarus my dream was to fly closer to
the sun than man or god dared.
I had the good fortune of meeting a mad scientist at a wine tasting
contest, where our capacity for the wine was appreciated.
He had a type of wax that could withstand intense heat.
I did not hesitate to order a pair of wings.
I flew higher than any god had done before, but the heat
was so intense the wax began to melt.
Like a rocket, I dived back to earth hoping to meet water.
Splashed down into the Barents ocean.
My body, now covered in wax kept me afloat and tolerably warm
till some Russian fishermen picked me up.
They kept me warm and snug till I sat there in my boiler suit
gave me a warm coat taking me into Vladivostok if I remember rightly.
Pravda, the Russian newspaper, got hold of my exploit and printed my story on the first page, but who reads Pravda?
The local TV also interviewed me, but who looks at Russian TV?
I´m a hero in Russia but ignored by the rest of the world,
this happens when politics get in the way of a heroic deed.
She wanted a great big brand new house, among brand new other things,
and just to marry and be my spouse, she wanted great big diamond rings,
So I knew what she was about, when she wanted so much bling,
it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out, money was her thing.....
But you can't squeeze blood from a turnip, my ol' daddy use to say,
don't build bridges that burn up son, you'll need them again someday,
You're never too old to keep learnin', work hard to pay your way,
Keep a job and keep on earnin' son, ya know, Rome wasn't built in a day...
Well, she just wasn't the one for me, so she went on down the road,
and as far as I could see, she could carry her own dang load,
Yes, I'm so glad she's free, and she left my humble abode,
because she inspired this song to be, another one seeking gold,
But you can't squeeze blood from a turnip, my ol' daddy use to say,
don't build bridges that burn up son, you'll need them again someday,
You're never too old to keep learnin', work hard to pay your way,
Keep a job and keep on earnin' son, ya know, Rome wasn't built in a day.
On CD from Nashville...call 502-290-7524...if no answer...please leave message..thanks!
She spoke of his fathering as something
way different from her mothering style
they both stood to applaud him when
he received the diversity of Science award
for his research. That day I applauded and stood
proud saying what tomorrows have we
that the science of now is the way of tomorrow.
Yet every compliment is a smirk from
the frustrations of human loneliness.
Echo's the lonely parrot
who's never been companioned and he
only knows the ways of humans.
Must then the selfishness of man cause him
to be lonely and in need.
Far from the natural ways of belonging.
Strange and lonesome.
Far reaching to create the character of a loner.
Find him some one to love and appreciate said his
loving mother: once she realized that he has
been worked and structured to be seen as
lonesome and evil.
" The Mad Scientist" will not be nurtured
he shall be loved and loving as Godfearing as
we have raised him!"
then we shall worry of those who envy him? those
who then shall be in opposition of his togetherness: that
they might smear his name to gain his woman's hand. Divide
them due to there position and maybe dispositioning.
Wishing to be where someone is in there
found position without
appreciation of what he or she has losted to gain.
From what position might we stand to deter those
who wish and envy?
Stabilzation to be normal! Love makes the world go round!