"diffraction" poems
There was a Truth
in murk-settled water.
I'll sit at the surface
and remember past wrongs.
Stirred lake was below us,
the eels and a catfish,
but towered above
the sun shone down warm.
A dead masquerade,
you kicked for the surface.
Your body, it rippled
a silhouetted sky.
Dead hum underwater
our eyelids were liquid.
My jellyfish back
absorbed the tanned rays.
Ingest your diffraction,
a hunger astray.
A dry-land discov'ry:
it was my legs aflame.
The murk was in you.
The murk was in you.
Dear God, I was clean.
Dear God, I was clean.
A seat at the table
to pray for the lake.
But what does it matter?
Wash my hands to eat.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
August 10th, you seemed so distant
Not quite as distant as the barrel of one gun
The gun that fired the shot that would stun
The scientific world, from Rutherford to Niels Bohr
To find out esteemed fellow scientist Moseley was no more
But before that, in 1913
X-ray spectra was naught more than a dream
Before diffraction through crystals became the truth
The wavelengths needed a meaning, and there was proof
You developed a mathematical system without flaw
One so great, it was named "Moseley's law"
Mendeleev had the right idea, but not a plan
Could not arrange the elements the way that you now can
Without you, my sir, we would not have had this premium
To enjoy the elements technetium, hafnium, promethium, and rhenium
These gaps that like stars littered the periodic table
Were filled with ease, and the cosmos became stable
You had set the foundation for crystallography of x-rays
A method of determining arrangement that is still used in modern days
The first machines in use were those for which you had the design
But their widespread use you could not see as there simply was no time
For during a battle, as you made the phone set run
A bullet took your grace away, a scientist dying young
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
"I can tell you that Dada was a leftist,
anti-bourgeois, non-Art birthed from WWI
and not some aleatory root to postmodernism
off-shot from a lurid acid rain.
I know that diffraction can be seen
on horizons in the early morning hours
of summer along smooth or dentate curvatures
and that it can have hues of blue, purple and
a soft-handed massage of orange that gingerly
applies pressure to your retinas with sugar-water.
If only eyes had lips that opened and closed.
"It is said that action is the birth of Manyness
and that non-action brings one's soul back to the Sage Mind,
the universe of Oneness, the cup longing to be fulfilled and how
upon brim overflow it longs to be empty once again
because of the relationship between Yin and Yang
and how one cannot Be without the other
and why perspective can change "full" to "empty"
so that the vicious cycle can never truly, truly end.
The difference between French Vanilla ice cream
and plain Vanilla is the degree of creaminess.
Fill up a bathtub and let it soak into my skin.
"There is no way for me to avoid being prolix about the things
I speak about in normal, day-to-day conversation. Science and reason
have accursed me to traverse this reality with the utmost care and precision
of language and society has forced pseudo-logic down my throat like
a bird screeching as it is forced past my pharynx and larynx.
Its sounds are amplified, beak-blared from my nostrils, and its wings are violent,
stretched against my neck skin, creating a pale-skinned, ship anchor image from my shoulders up.
I'll try to sing for you when you reach my trapdoor, I don't wish to eat you.
"I do not believe in anything because with everything comes a something,
a reason for its being. They are, 'from reason,' 'in reason,' and/or, 'for reason.'
There is no escaping this thought.
There is no escaping criticism.
I will find the Truth, mathematically calculated to infinity
from knowable circumstance and perception.
I will know everything and I will believe nothing."
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
The calling to witness; the revelation
God igniting a match!
The genesis of time, the mioses of space
The birth of creation,
The vision of darkness shedding light;
An instant that temporarily blinded,
The single second that lasted an aeon.
The awe- inspiring presence that their father created,
The impact of his beauty,
The infinite wisdom of eternity, his glory beheld.
Only a glimpse they sighted,
The vision of a solar eclipse
A momentary lapse of reason.
His brilliance disturbed their divine grace
Yet his will was theirs, and theirs too he endowed
As it was from that moment that they started to turn
Honourably to turn, to turn
From the darkness of truth toward the light of justice,
The knowledge of eternal wisdom; supreme truth
They were able to see upon turning
Reflected unto them by the diffraction of his light,
A vast myriad of light; contained by darkness,
An equinox harmoniously co-joined
By the motion of the heavenly orbs,
Heaven created for them:
Yet things started to change
And heavens legions fought amongst one another
For inner sense, whilst others lost their innocence;
And so hell was born for the deistic
For God could not percieve the disbelief.
1997 ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
don't let yourself fall in love
with that boy who plays bass
whispers jokes that make your face go red from not being able to breathe
and immediately holds you the day you come back
don't hang onto his every word
nor take note of the way his eyes catch fire
like a sheet of paper over an open flame
every single time he tells you how much he adores to make music
don't let his mannerisms dictate you
when his arms find you on a daily basis
when you ignore the teachings about diffraction and ray diagrams
just to listen to whatever is on his wonderfully, woefully confusing mind
because soon enough
you'll be writing him poems online using a fake name
and staying up till four am
thinking about how his voice cracks and quivers when he sings seven nation army
about how excited he gets to play you something he has written
about the sideways glances he gives you when you try to get his attention
about the places his hands reside every single time he touches you
and about the way his lips tasted like starburst jelly beans and cherry pepsi on that sunny wednesday afternoon
he completely inverts your perception of the world
and now matter how much you want to
don't
fall
in
love
with
him.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Look how two can become one
How can one become home
How can home be so sweet
The reversed diffraction
The sweetest distraction
The everwanted satisfaction
Cupcakes and daybreaks
Cute bed sheets and lemon flavored sweets.
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
A moon disc moves around in space,
beaming white with shades of time
as the pupil of a cosmic eye,
an aperture of the mind.
Its clouded iris billows,
evolving mountains in the sky
as textured fields of cirrostratus
caressing what's divine.
There's a copper sclera of diffraction,
as concentric rings of luminescence
enjoy, for tonight, partaking of this essence.
Do the pinewood teeth serrating mountains
not speak for want of a tongue?
I know they sigh sometimes with longing
when they're moved before a gale.
I hear your storm has started calling,
as the wind whispers me your tale.
The rain's a heavy harmony,
strumming straight on panes of glass,
and those rivulets of running water
walk patience to the brink
as the eddies of a circling mind
whirl cogs which make me think:
*I see your face in scattered strangers,
your form behind the rippling of skirts.
I hope your restlessness will soothe itself
and you feel at home, here on this earth.*
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
SEE
Through the slits of my eyes
I see diffraction
fringes of light and dark
flood in as distraction
TOUCH
Muscles in my body
thicken into contraction
when you touch my skin
immediate distraction
HEAR
Trying to concentrate
my ears pick up a fraction
of conversations around
a welcome distraction
TASTE
Someone is talking to me
I'm in a state of inaction
chocolate in my mouth
melts into distraction
SMELL
Thinking of tomorrow
something triggers reaction
the smell of cut grass
grows into distraction
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 2:28 AM UTC
It was one of those bad weather days
You know the stormy, flying monkey type
Where you end up chasing garbage cans
And watching the world wash down the pipe
The trees were whipping everywhere
Dropping branches, clipping wires
They were also downing hydro poles
Cutting power, starting fires
The rain ripped like small razors
The hail sandblasted exposed skin
The sewers swallowed slowly
They could not let the rain come in
My windows shook like aspic
Distorting all I saw outside
My house was all in darkness
Time to hunker for the ride
The clouds moved like a time delay
Three days compressed all into one
They circled and came back again
They blocked out all hope of sun
I thought of Margaret Hamilton
Flying above the world of Oz
It was just a random thought I had
Just an image, just because
My yard was now a shallow lake
The ground could not absorb the rain
It would break for a few minutes
Gather up and start again
Each storm it seems is harsher
Than the last one to come through
I have even thought that I should
Gather animals in pairs of two
At the end of every rain storm
I was taught to look and find
A rainbow in the distance
A light diffraction in my mind
I went to my front window
Looked and saw one in the sky
At the end there'd be a leprachaun
with gold a mile high
I watched the news that evening
saw the damage that was made
And at the end of my storms rainbow
They showed a PRIDE parade.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
My mind stands as a monument, patient as a mountain
with icy peak not pestered by casual considerations
'though mourning howls through the crags
of my thoughts, and an agitated earth rumbles below.
Stoically I face the persistence of time flowing slow.
I received dreams last night, visions beyond
myself and my actions.
I saw a great man, with great compassion.
He used the last of his strength to save another
from the rushing of a tidal wave.
As others lifted his body from the ground
and spoke of his noble sacrifice,
the man thought to himself:
"I must continue to burn with light
to combat the forces of oppression."
I woke then, suddenly, and my vision
filled with spiraling blue and green
diffraction patterns, rippling across the ceiling.
A deep pleasure burned through my skull
and swept down my body, accompanied
with a high-pitched ringing, tinged with fear.
I saw a great green grassland,
a deep emerald color contrasting the
lapis lazuli color in the sky.
On the horizon stood a single mound,
a deep red clay of vital earth.
May I never forget what I have seen,
and always remember:
suffering and bliss are not two.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
We've drank from the same waters,
with tongues held out to falling droplets,
our cupped hands beneath waterfalls
storing liquid essence in earthly pools
and with parched lips tasted our reflection.
I have seen you walking on the ridge,
your silhouette an invitation to loosen
all these past-hardened inhibitions
which kept authenticity caged and hidden.
I've found your footsteps at the fork.
It seems you've gone to find the heights
and soar unhindered in the halituous
palaces of the sky, whose voluminous
halls entice with jeweled nets of diffraction.
And I wish you luck, love,
you really are something special.
But I think I'm on the other fork.
I'm off to the desert to find the oasis of the soul.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
I am many things all at once…
I am more than just a poet
I am more than that human
Who you see muttering
Those verses, rhyming and aching
Of longing and brokenness
Of depth and hopelessness…
I am more than any piece I’ve spoken
More than any poem I’ve written
I am many things all at once…
I am more than just those “titles”
More than any predefined roles and adnouns
I am more than that kid who you used to see
Climbing up a nonsensical pedestal relentlessly
I am more than that person
Who has long been enslaved –
By words and numbers written on a paper
Life worth mainly defined by others
I have always endeavored to become better
I am many things all at once…
I am more than just taints of my past
More than a byproduct of bad decisions
More than a series of apologies and resolutions
More than a prisoner of my innermost fears
Earnestly seeking for vagaries
I have yet to forget the art of letting it be
And learn playing with blurs of probabilities
I am many things all at once…
A diffraction of Schrödinger's equation
Reflecting a quantum superposition
I am many things all at once…
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 5:31 AM UTC
light dispersion
through a carved glass prism
array of colours emerging a from a single beam
diffraction
a fraction of me dies
a faction of me dyes
that's why my hair now has highlights
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC