"modulus" poems - Hello Poetry

I wanted to know what was real knowledge, so I went to the wisest master, God, Not to learn things of school or college, But to go where no foot has ever trod. . God said," I know what you seek, child, But if real knowledge is what you wish to gain, You venture into mountains dark and prairies wild, And go through joyful hurt and honoring pain." . I was ready to put up resistance, Said God," To men you shall speak, Who are the wisest of this existence, And at the end you shall get what you seek." . And so I went to the Physicists, On whose principles this world exists, They asked, “Pascal’s law, Bulk modulus, Doppler effect, can you tell?" I said," No sir, but like Newton, even I wondered why the apple fell." "Sacrilege!" they said," You inelastic plastic, may your soul rest in hell." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Then I went to the scholars of Chemistry, Who are the wisest in mankind's History, They asked me," What about Dalton's law, KTG, inorganic Benzene, can you say?" "Nothing, sir, but I wonder about molecules and atoms, night and day!" "Sacrilege!" they said, " You miserable molecule, May in hell your grave lay." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Then I went to the supreme Mathematicians, Whom I consider as God's own magicians, They asked me," What on methods of solving DEs, LMVT, can you speak?" "Nothing, sir, but I work on theorems of Euler, the mathematician Greek." "Sacrilege!" they said," You rootless equation, may you end up in the Devil's steak." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Indeed, I felt sorry for their and the future generations' plight, But at the end of the road, I realized God was right, It’s not about knowing Pascal's, Dalton's or Euler's shouts, Its knowing how to live life to your fullest, every time you breathe in and breathe out.

0

Nov 25, 2015

Nov 25, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC

Upthedownstair

SACRILEGE!

I wanted to know what was real knowledge, so I went to the wisest master, God, Not to learn things of school or college, But to go where no foot has ever trod. . God said," I know what you seek, child, But if real knowledge is what you wish to gain, You venture into mountains dark and prairies wild, And go through joyful hurt and honoring pain." . I was ready to put up resistance, Said God," To men you shall speak, Who are the wisest of this existence, And at the end you shall get what you seek." . And so I went to the Physicists, On whose principles this world exists, They asked, “Pascal’s law, Bulk modulus, Doppler effect, can you tell?" I said," No sir, but like Newton, even I wondered why the apple fell." "Sacrilege!" they said," You inelastic plastic, may your soul rest in hell." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Then I went to the scholars of Chemistry, Who are the wisest in mankind's History, They asked me," What about Dalton's law, KTG, inorganic Benzene, can you say?" "Nothing, sir, but I wonder about molecules and atoms, night and day!" "Sacrilege!" they said, " You miserable molecule, May in hell your grave lay." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Then I went to the supreme Mathematicians, Whom I consider as God's own magicians, They asked me," What on methods of solving DEs, LMVT, can you speak?" "Nothing, sir, but I work on theorems of Euler, the mathematician Greek." "Sacrilege!" they said," You rootless equation, may you end up in the Devil's steak." But I remembered God's words and moved on. . Indeed, I felt sorry for their and the future generations' plight, But at the end of the road, I realized God was right, It’s not about knowing Pascal's, Dalton's or Euler's shouts, Its knowing how to live life to your fullest, every time you breathe in and breathe out.

40

My clothes are familiar and I blend in well the shops are quiet and do not sell I drive on regardless each day the same way a sagas myth is here to stay the welcoming inn a buzzing hive clothes unpeel and emblazoned I rise in short sleeved blue Jim Jams with clogs of noir to follow tiled pathways and stairwells on high scale the walled harbour and tide gloves now cover along with gauzed hair levy labelled with cóem and time a mask of no air a visor upon my stare gloves that give birth in a pair entering the abode the door is unsealed la dévastation is revealed with each breath mists my brow stifled sounds and blurried spectres angels wings unfurled amorphous canoes float among modulus forms each suspended on ripples that care moorings avail the fare pure is the air each a lifeline engaged in dance the lines waver a harmonious swell take gauntlets and bib many hands take hold the canoe is in white water capsized and adrift what’s up is down and down is sound the turbulence unfolds blue now runs red muscles unwind eyes now a veiled dreams on thin air eyes are the story telling their all prepare, engage, and consider action stations now all the canoe revives eddies are restored the brows repose the eyes belighten a canoe is transformed the moorings are loosened our chance to assist the derrick is grasped air finally comes forth a canoe breaks loose a belling arises and then one more steers an outstretched hand the lines are gathered the harbour protects all a poem is written an eloquent enigma each number makes news a zero the grail summoned by home the inns light fades with the distance a refreshing shower a cooling drink a warm meal tired eyes, fasten shut the canoes float past my eyes open but nothing stirs I mouth in silence 'yield thou viral hold'

0

May 9, 2020

May 9, 2020 at 7:32 PM UTC

kevin-wright-2

The harbour protects all

My clothes are familiar and I blend in well the shops are quiet and do not sell I drive on regardless each day the same way a sagas myth is here to stay the welcoming inn a buzzing hive clothes unpeel and emblazoned I rise in short sleeved blue Jim Jams with clogs of noir to follow tiled pathways and stairwells on high scale the walled harbour and tide gloves now cover along with gauzed hair levy labelled with cóem and time a mask of no air a visor upon my stare gloves that give birth in a pair entering the abode the door is unsealed la dévastation is revealed with each breath mists my brow stifled sounds and blurried spectres angels wings unfurled amorphous canoes float among modulus forms each suspended on ripples that care moorings avail the fare pure is the air each a lifeline engaged in dance the lines waver a harmonious swell take gauntlets and bib many hands take hold the canoe is in white water capsized and adrift what’s up is down and down is sound the turbulence unfolds blue now runs red muscles unwind eyes now a veiled dreams on thin air eyes are the story telling their all prepare, engage, and consider action stations now all the canoe revives eddies are restored the brows repose the eyes belighten a canoe is transformed the moorings are loosened our chance to assist the derrick is grasped air finally comes forth a canoe breaks loose a belling arises and then one more steers an outstretched hand the lines are gathered the harbour protects all a poem is written an eloquent enigma each number makes news a zero the grail summoned by home the inns light fades with the distance a refreshing shower a cooling drink a warm meal tired eyes, fasten shut the canoes float past my eyes open but nothing stirs I mouth in silence 'yield thou viral hold'

71

my tolerance for incompetence is obviously under modulus intense tensive stress pressed upon me it's no nominal anomaly. insomniatic consequences collect with compounding interest astounding acts of disrespect compress my lack of patience. I'm barely present in the moment often engrossed in intellectual opus enough with the hocus pocus this stone just won't produce water it's hopeless. open minds let locusts in and closed ones pay the pope in sin good folks cope with life on the inside, too shy to reveal they know the solution.

0

Nov 3, 2017

Nov 3, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC

Concoxide

Young's Modulus

my tolerance for incompetence is obviously under modulus intense tensive stress pressed upon me it's no nominal anomaly. insomniatic consequences collect with compounding interest astounding acts of disrespect compress my lack of patience. I'm barely present in the moment often engrossed in intellectual opus enough with the hocus pocus this stone just won't produce water it's hopeless. open minds let locusts in and closed ones pay the pope in sin good folks cope with life on the inside, too shy to reveal they know the solution.

20

an owl with colors on this branch with frequency and modulus in bright heights and a wingspan in flight airing tidal scoop with nocturne where in spring or fall now in awe of love

0

May 9, 2020

May 9, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC

poetman

barn owl

an owl with colors on this branch with frequency and modulus in bright heights and a wingspan in flight airing tidal scoop with nocturne where in spring or fall now in awe of love

17