"bunsen" poems
10 Things I Wish I Could've Told You...
but never did.
1: I used to fantasize about us listening to that song that always reminded me of you and we'd be laughing and singing and we wouldn't have a care in world except where we were gonna buy our french fries. I'd feel as free as the snowflakes that never fell while we coast down the boulevard.
2: I snuck out of class one time to text you. I thought I was super cool for doing something bad... but then I had to do the entire science experiment with my phone in my jacket sleeve. I came pretty close to lighting it on fire with a bunsen burner, actually.
3: I remember how you could make anything hilarious. Whether it was laughing about overrated jokes from the internet or ironic things we probably shouldn't even be laughing about, you'd turn the situation upside down because that's the way you liked to see the world. You taught me that just looking from another perspective could make the ocean and sky switch places.
4: I lost sleep of worrying about you - I would awake in a cold sweat worried that my biggest nightmare would come true.
5: I would always push accusations of this happening to the back of my mind, but little did I know that when I thought I was protecting you I was really protecting myself.
6: I miss your laugh
7: I miss your smile
8: I miss the way you cared about everyone. Your heart was so big that all the 7 billion people on this earth could have a piece of it, a chance to taste the love and sweetness that resided in there, and when all the sugar saturated in the bottom you always knew how to shake it back up again, but man did they take every last piece. They took it all so that you were left with an emptiness that you had to fill with something else. And you filled it up, but it wasn't with love.
9: I can't live in a world without you
10: You were the first and only person I turned to for a very long time, and you were the only person who I could really trust. You gave me a piece of your heart too, except that I cherished mine. And to this day, I wear your heart on my sleeve.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to memorize all of the different
lab equipment.
They never tell you to memorize the constellation
of freckles spattered across the bridge of your
lab partner's nose, but you do it
anyways.
You learn about Marie Curie and radioactive decay, but you
find you are more interested in the way his smile starts small
and grows to light a fire in your cheeks.
You blame it on the Bunsen burner.
You study polyatomic ions and how they act as a single unit, and it
reminds you of how he winks at you right before quizzes
and you find you can't focus on anything at all.
You blame it on the lack of breakfast.
You test over periodic trends and ionization energy, but all
you can think of at night is the way he taps his fingers
and maybe it's why you can't sleep at night.
You blame it on a restless mind.
In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to be careful when handling
Erlenmeyer flasks.
They never tell other students to be careful when handling
your heart.
They never tell you how much easier it is to clean up the mess
from a shattered beaker than it is to clean up the mess
from your shattered heart.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
for KA
There is something in this for both of us. We have chemistry, let's be lab partners. Help me with problems like which would make a better poem: a pandemic, a wolverine, or a broken heart? You know I only chose you because you enjoy my fondling your blond *** as you lean over the Bunsen burner, because we have flammable *** on the periodic table, but this is more serious than calculations or ******* As a poet, I need to access the deeper moaning of reality, but you are a screamer, not a moaner. Let's experiment anyhow. Lift that skirt and let's explore something elemental, make a new molecule, feel the reaction. Help me probe the fundamentals of creation and I may love you, though surely not enough, as we are both non-valent. Even though we may never bond, we are in this together, partner. Lift your beaker to my lips. Outcomes are never certain.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
The quiet shuffle of
Those two people in the hall.
The sound of the chalk pieces falling
As my teacher grinds it
Into the board.
The shouting of the man teaching next door.
The ruffling of papers when my teacher tells us to take one out.
The jangling of keys out in the hall.
The clicking of calculator keys
(Even though I'm in Chemistry).
The squeaking of various doors.
The three people who all just cleared their throats
At the same time.
The unevenness of the bell tones
(One's a concert A).
The flower resting in it's
Bunsen burner vase.
I love being an
Introvert
And noticing.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 11:12 AM UTC
And see, this cold ice
that lives in the test tube
is so in love
with the Bunsen burner
and coming near
it exclaims in intense love:
*“O flame – eternal flame mine –
O my roaring blue flame, my hot love
Oh see how I melt
whenever near you!”*
“Oh, cool it,” says the flame
*“It’s just a phase
you’re passing through”*
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:40 AM UTC
Dear underclassmen,
You will learn so much.
You’ll learn that when seniors tell you the main stairs are only for upperclassman they’re lying, that freshman Friday isn’t a thing, and elevator passes aren’t actually real.
You’ll learn WWII started in 1939 and it was the bloodiest of them all.
You’ll learn that sometimes, things don’t have to be ****** to be painful.
Sometimes sterile wounds heal the slowest.
High school will teach you to love with a vigor you didn't see coming and to hate with a passion you never saw possible, and you’ll find that after feeling them both so deeply, it sometimes becomes impossible to tell the difference between the two.
You’ll learn about drugs- that they don’t always come in little ziplock bags or orange pill bottle.
You’ll learn that often times, they don’t come in powder or pills at all- they come in words on a page or in blue eyes staring at you through wayfarer glasses that are so clouded you find yourself wondering how they can even see the world around them.
You’ll find your drug- everyone does. You’ll know you’re addicted because to you, it's what keeps the earth spinning on its axis; it's what puts the stars in the sky; it's what you see when you hear the word love.
You'll get addicted to something, and you’ll lose it, and you’ll move on.
You’ll learn that things can change in the blink of an eye, which is just as fast as we are to post our emotions in 180 characters or less, just as fast as we are to scrutinize others for who they love, what they wear,
and what they’re addicted to.
Things change as fast as the speed of sound: 186,282 miles per second.
I learned that in chemistry.
I also learned that Fleen Dog wasn't kidding when he said if you lean in too close to a Bunsen burner your hair will catch on fire.
I've learned that if you don’t stay in the inexhaustible realm of school dress code, you’re a delinquent, but if you wear hoodies everyday, you’re a scrub. If you don't, you're a try-hard.
I've learn that for some reason the word try-hard is an insult.
I've learned that stares can be so heavy you can physically feel the weight of their eyes pushing down on your back as they watch your every move, but more importantly I've learned that those stares only matter if you actually let them.
You’ll learn that often times- there is no correct answer and sometimes you just have to choose what you believe is the most right option because it’s better to guess than to do nothing at all.
You'll learn that even in science, not everything is black and white,
that sometimes the best way to learn is by diving in head first, and if you feel your skull crash into the bottom of the pool, know that you will resurface.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
I drew pants out of my backpack
like a well bucket brimming pennies.
Legs upon legs tied together
in a campfire circle and sitting
on moss'd rocks, listening to rock
music, drinking Rolling Rock,
and nothing else. I pulled up
on inseams to a single black
pocket liner sixteen cents richer,
but the fire. Oh, that fire, flames whipping
weaker than slave drivers weaker
than the wind bailing low-lying
lake water to the faux Dover beach
mound of sand by the mud shore
like the crayfish were drowning.
The sand was like trampled
"welcome" mats worn-in by sidestepping
horseshoe players setting down
their tin cans by the mound.
A pitching machine on the pitcher's mound.
Machines have made the big leagues.
I quit baseball when Coach Seth castrated
my half-friends with a robot.
Some took red stitches to the face,
the lucky ones. But the fire—if you could consider
a Bunsen burner-esque flame a fire—turned
our burnt sienna bottles into burning-out beacons,
tiki torches between pine trees, street lamps
kicking off in four hours, a box of matches,
and a lightning bug's ***
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
Smokey the Bear tried
to warn us
not to play with fire
nor matches
Never any carelessness
so near the flames
A Bunsen's burner
licks the glass
cesium
rubidium
I listened
till the dare
undid the bear
Consumed us
with its hunger
for the science
and the gases
instability
of it
Flicked us out the window
of a sunny day
Cricket dry
the grass
Knee deep in *** butts
in litter
by the underpass
Flames trespass
explode beyond us
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 1:50 AM UTC
There was once a boy I sat with in science,
He couldn’t tell the difference between a Bunsen burner and a kitchen appliance.
I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me,
This forced upon seating arrangement made neither of us happy.
I found him arrogant, a pain in the ***
He had no motivation and didn’t care for a pass.
Yet others still saw him as something of a god,
I still couldn’t stand this full of himself sod.
He questioned me why? I gave zero *****
And I told him, you’re rude and clearly lack wits.
He seemed so surprised, not knowing what to do,
He simply replied "I’ll work on you"
And too my amazement he started to try,
I couldn’t understand for the life of me why?
He asked me questions about my life and my day,
Seeming genuinely interested for what I had to say,
And we started to work more together in class,
Maybe he’s not such a pain in the ***
My respect began to grow for him,
As what I see now is far more genuine.
Then one day he sat down and said,
Looking down at the table his cheeks turning red,
"I had to work really hard for you,
You weren’t another beggar lined up in a queue,
But I’m glad you made me work for this friendship,
With all of your sassy comments and giving me lip,
Because I feel like now you like me for me,
Not the pretty boy most people see."
I replied with something I never thought I would say,
I’m so glad I was made to sit with to you that day.
-NCx
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
Pew, Pew, Barney, McGrew.
Trumpton's poor firemen are cyanotic blue.
Had to tackle a blaze at Windy's mill.
The local teens all held a rave.
Teenage gals and teenage boys with no regard,for flour and mills.
Wanted to manufacture wicked pills.
Chemistry sets and bunsen burners, thought they'd cook some rocking earners.
Boom, boom, bang the mill is exploding.
The mill's all full of smoke.
Firemen are trapped.
The kids are in a manic panic.
Theyall escape.
Teenage party people.
For heaven's sake.
Listens and learn, before you choke to death or burn.
The firemen they got rescued by their team commander,
His name was Lucky Lee.
In the fresh air the comical funny firemen breathed fresh air.
So glad to be free.
And the poetic woman will create poetic positivity.
The glass is full up with various optimistic stuff.
(c)Livvi
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
Let us all be equal now which is a sequel to let us all not,
son of some gun don't you want me to run with the idea of a nuclear family where each has enough to get by on and we all get a living we can try out and live on? equality under the sun.
Every Autumn that strips the trees bare I am there letting leaves through my fingers to fall, where I wear the crown of a fool, they never taught nature at school nor *** education or pollution just adherence to rules and now the rules have all broken as we are all taken to the next stop on the road, but
the next season explodes exposing even more roots and the roads are all clogged up as we are all bogged down and the leaves are still tumbling down.
Down is recurring, a nightmare, unnerving but it's down where we go where the nights hang on low to the light in our eyes, dampened and cramped we are stamped disapproval ripe for removal and the leaves come tumbling down.
They burn bunsen burners to turn liquid to gold or that's what we're told, sows ears and purses, pockets full of curses and it's my mind full of verses that fires my sight
The quality of mercy being equality is strained and we the minority are being drained of all will, will the sequel be better, will we all get an Oscar an Emmy or doesn't anyone care?
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 7:01 AM UTC
In a room filled with glass and fire.
fantastic colored fluids to stare and admire.
Bunsen burners orange and blue flame .
Tubes that spiral around like a game.
Steam and popping bubbles.
Brewing danger and trouble.
Potions here and potions there.
So many you lose all care.
Lavender, licorice and lilac.
Smells good, but the liquids black.
Another red and shiny like a rose.
But it smells like piled compost.
On a table, glass tubes build a cube.
Just like a machine built by Rube.
4 places to pour liquids in.
Through the tubes they mix and spin.
A single spigot on the side.
Are you brave, open wide!
Pretty colors in the cup
Go ahead drink it up!
If you do, I'd like to see!
You are more brave than me.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
Suddenly, I fall asleep without knowing,
I started wooing in little knowledge that,
there is fire on the mountain.
The picture was failed to be captured, because I was capsized into
the palace full of candy,
forgetting that am the king of integrity and dignity
people knew.
They were voices I head at the back of my dream
As much as I slept, scripts of pages were randomly flipped.
They were scripts of consolation and recirculation of what I heard,
But It was not for the rebellion i fought.
It was a rat in my house I knew for the past many decades,
I thought perhaps I would be one of them but it was a precision.
I was abide. Thus, I was split from goats as a sheep,
Not knowing the principle, that circulates
As it goes like, “ blood is thicker than water!”
friendship grew like a frame of a Bunsen,
the bond was as strong as a stone,
And it was unbreakable.
As voices faded, I never knew that I was in another dream of a dreamer.
Again I was lost like a coin, I was no where to be found
As I was a dream chaser, not only that, but a breaker.
The senses came back to normal as i was out in one’s dream as a dreamer,
A picture which was failed to be captured flashed in my mind.
Again the picture failed to be captured,
because of the voices at the back of the dream.
It was an invade, no sound to be recognized because they were tip toes
Of people I intend rarely to know.
I do not think so, if they are the one I saw in the dream, the funny part is that I was in another dream as dreamer .
Maybe it was a rat in my house I intended to know,
Which wiped the beauty of the joy .
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 10:53 AM UTC
miss petherick
miss ******
miss dawson who forced the showers
spit & dribble
latin & greek
sisters
i remember all of them not with fondness
not with happy days
she wore a tie you know
het blouse were white & sternly sharp
terrified we went in after games to run
naked whether warm or cold
some had flat stomachs
better quality knickers
dawson had a diary to check when
we said excused it was our time
so we could keep them on
if we cheated she poked our skinny arms sharp
&
we were scared & ran through by the wall hoping
the water would miss
us
she disapproved of me
i feel
i disapproved of her
i remember cold days
divided skirts
ice on the field
the line between genders
dawson brought fear
she wore a tie you know
navy blue
i failed in games in greek & latin
was interested in art & liked bunsen burners & wooden stools
****** dawson wore a tie you know
miss jackson had a pony tail
i bet ****** dawson hated that
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 1:43 AM UTC