"physicist" poems
Nikola Tesla
respected physicist
Thomas Edison’s
dubious nemesis.
Electricity
was his toil
was famous for
his Tesla Coil.
Radical dreamer
of free power
J.P. Morgan
made things sour.
Lovingly
nature’s servant
proposer of
alternating current.
Humble inventor
that transformed homes
famously stated
he loved all tomes.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
The most obnoxious part about
being a communications major,
is having to tell people you're a
communications major, it's having
to explain to concerned strangers
what I plan to do with that-
The major question is the new,
What's your sign?
The future physicist asks
with crooked smile, plastic cup
in hand, and *** in his eyes.
My answer elicits a sigh, a smirk,
and what do you plan to do with that?
He asks the way one asks a child
******* on their parents car keys.
So I tell him:
*I plan to hang my degree in my
guest bathroom-*
Why?
*Because I don't give a **** about what
other people think of it.*
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
a physicist
a man of culture
a man of love and hospitality
lonely walks around the streets of his desert planet
in friendly but ruthless roads
roads full of light and talks
seeking his future and his past
feels lost in the magic of tomorrow
and tangled by the uncertainty of yesterday
yet he is committed not to give up
he won't fail
but he won't succeed
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
The Standard Model is full of sticky, quirky Quarks,
perky little Fermions, and the Boson Higgs,
the reigning King of Mass of towering might;
who, by spontaneously falling off in any old direction,
gives ad hoc Masses to nearly all, and to all a birthright.
And for all normal matter in creation,
the Boson Higgs is the physicist's salvation.
Alas, we could have learned more,
but a Weasel ate through the Collider core.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
A skeptical, theoretical physicist,
Composed poetry frenzidly all night,
Got enlightened, went beyond limits,
Made peace with the equation ultimate!
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 9:43 PM UTC
We slump on the couch when we return like lifetimes
have passed before us.
We have to, even though it was only a seven minute walk
to the dining hall, because 1) the food was just
“weird consistency”
(which we tend to say regardless), 2) the light
in there yawned indifferently to us (when does it not?), and
3) the reassuring clink of our forks on our
plates wasn’t even there this time it was
hiding underneath slop
and smothered on top by the intruding sound waves
(who asked?)
of our next-table neighbors’ lives.
You made a sly remark about seconds to catch
a glimpse of youthful ****
She’d gone to get some more baby carrots and cucumber slices
to put in her salad maybe
(who knows? who cares?)
Either way, her youthful **** would make the food taste like
something to you. And you
described them to us when you sat down again so
the slop would taste like something to us
(there’s pride in that type of generosity, don’t forget) and
(congratulations)
we had the faint impression of
some sort of
****** there, but
we didn’t tell you
(it’s easier that way).
A cup, a squeeze, a kiss on her ******* yes that could feed
our hunger for a night. And tonight was a night
like any, so her ******* led us to talk
of women, and women led us to talk of
love
(and the blooming one for the poor *******
as we who lost withstood the vicarious twinge of
an addling ****** very different from
the first.
This one led us to pine for sweets, but the ones we found
were dry, so we left the table, left the dining hall, looking around at
the others: the lonely, the couples, the blessed
lonely couples, and the fortunate friends
huddled against everything with open laughter, enjoying
the weird consistency like drunk theoretical physicists before
they discovered bubbles and inflated eternally meaning
when they safeguarded a
zoo with a pistol they didn’t know how to
use, in Soviet Russia.
(So you see?) We have to slump on the couch
when we return like lifetimes
have passed before us.
No one even bothers to pick up a guitar, we leave all four of them
strewn on the floor like
dead wooden boxes because
Dylan or Young or Cash (or whoever)
is already in the living
room. Any
bubbling, inflating, theoretical physicist
(any drunk, pistol-packing zookeeper, for that matter) will
tell you that.
So we slump, comfortably uncomfortable,
(at least we’re trying!)
feeling their (our) strings plucking. No sounds, no voices.
Because we don’t need
to hear this that.
Not right
now. (Not right
now).
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
It's not the memories that hurt.
I seldom find myself lost amongst those painful reveries.
No, it's much deeper than that.
It's not logical or tangible.
It's an inexplicable feeling,
Or lack there of.
A void.
Deeper than conscious thought.
It's molecular.
As if the atoms that create my existence mourn your presence.
Perhaps they grew fond of the way our forms were intertwined.
Vibrating in unison to an unheard melody.
They moved together in harmony.
They united for a time only to be torn apart by shallow egos and petty differences.
That's where the perpetual longing originates from.
They grieve your absence with an incessant hum that whispers your name throughout my body. Pleading with me to fix this.
Sigh.
Sounds better than admitting I actually miss the *******
It's not me, I swear, it's my ******* atoms! Do I look like a physicist to you!? I don't know how to reinvent the atom!!
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
If all a top physicist knows
About the Truth be true,
Then, for all the so-and-so's,
Futility and grime,
Our common world contains,
We have a better time
Than the Greater Nebulae do,
Or the atoms in our brains.
Marriage is rarely bliss
But, surely it would be worse
As particles to pelt
At thousands of miles per sec
About a universe
Wherein a lover's kiss
Would either not be felt
Or break the loved one's neck.
Though the face at which I stare
While shaving it be cruel
For, year after year, it repels
An ageing suitor, it has,
Thank God, sufficient mass
To be altogether there,
Not an indeterminate gruel
Which is partly somewhere else.
Our eyes prefer to suppose
That a habitable place
Has a geocentric view,
That architects enclose
A quiet Euclidian space:
Exploded myths - but who
Could feel at home astraddle
An ever expanding saddle?
This passion of our kind
For the process of finding out
Is a fact one can hardly doubt,
But I would rejoice in it more
If I knew more clearly what
We wanted the knowledge for,
Felt certain still that the mind
Is free to know or not.
It has chosen once, it seems,
And whether our concern
For magnitude's extremes
Really become a creature
Who comes in a median size,
Or politicizing Nature
Be altogether wise,
Is something we shall learn.
2.3k
*"Oh my, I don't feel
that I can go on much longer.
These old man's heels
have in the past been stronger. "*
And then,
down a black Hole
to seek the last truth;
defeating blunders of mind,
but too long in the tooth.
And then,
back out, returning to the open.
Auburn leaves beneath lie still.
Wind stirs, orange spirals woven.
"It's a universal fractal spill."
And then,
*"Recursive, it's recursive;
my whole existence has thrived.
One end is subversive,
the other end is contrived."*
And then,
the black Hole opens wide,
******* grabbing, attracting--
uncontrived, unaware of requite.
One old soul the Hole is extracting.
And then,
...
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
here's the way i see it.
i'm an artist, a writer, a gambler, a fighter, a scientist, a scholar, a critic, a failure, a dramatist, a dreamer, a peddler, a nuisance, a bassist, a wanderer, a magician, a follower, a therapist, a liar, a professional, a healer, a pacifist, a chisel, a storyteller, a mathemetician, a physicist, a cook, a puzzler, a loser, a programmer, a lawnmower, a supporter, a musician, a tape-deck, a mirror, a survivor, and a dude.
i'm not very good at any of it.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
soft
sweet
blue
bayyyybeeeeeee kitty
pink nose
black whiskers
sandy tongue
green eyes
smooth fur
im not playing..
im not playing...
ATTACK!
im not playing.. i'm cleaning..
i'm cleaning, i say!
ATTACK!
cuddle
caress
crazy cute
cats, i say, CATS!
what once was an autonym has now become a species nickname
biskits
not the kind with butter and jelly
the kind with paws for feet
the kind with purr eruptions
boeboe, executive chef
macmillyun, geometric artist
professor pinenut, astrometrics physicist
ridiculous or brilliant?
how could you name your cuddly companion nothing more than something totally great?
laser eyes
can haz cheeseburgers
oh.gee meme
im not sure that anyone else takes the cake (fish, of course)
beating the canine, every time
instinct and balance
not to mention wit
theres not competition
other than size (which they don't seem to grasp)
i hope that when i die
i can meow next
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
Galileo Galilei--
Physicist, mathematician,
Astronomer, philosopher--
You angered the Roman Inquisition
And later the Pope and Jesuits as well.
Your scientific observation
That the earth moves around the sun
Was deemed a heretical revelation!
Spreading ideas "contrary to scripture"--
A risky endeavor and path to take--
Guaranteed life imprisonment
Or a gruesome burning at the stake.
Under pressure you recanted:
"The earth doesn't move around the sun."
They say that under your breath you muttered,
"And yet it moves." You lost, yet won.
Though you lived under house arrest
For years until the day you died,
Your scientific contributions
To benefit mankind cannot be denied.
It's sad when dogma and ignorance attempt
To force dissenters into compliance.
It's sadder yet that in this century
Too many people still ignore science.
Our thoughts aren't shaped from cookie cutters;
Beliefs don't all fit the same mold.
Praise to the thinkers who soar to great heights
And break authority's stranglehold.
Praise to those who dare to defy
Petrified positions or views--
Who challenge our mind-set and open our eyes
To truth and awareness, despite jeers and boos.
- by Bob B
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
I have never believed in the principles of physics because they do not apply to girls like me. Girls who disobey Newton's straight-mouthed rules with scarlet leaps of blind faith, girls with hopes soaring past our pastel heavens, never weighed down by any mystical force of gravity measured by dead men. The audacity of the physicist's rotten rules anchoring themselves into thick velvet skin-- as if to stifle the daydreams that keep twirling unpredictably even if acted upon by an unbalanced force. There is no way to silence my momentum, I will keep blooming-- slender hands outstretched toward the flickering sun, past all of the white numerical lies and formulaic cages that ache to confine me. What a perfect contradiction, that a soft-spoken girl can rise at the break of Einstein's miscalculated morning, illuminating the sky with the poetry of her defiance.
She, who loves gracefully without friction. She, whose bones cannot be broken by the laws of heat. She, who keeps herself warm when the cold mathematical wrath of their graves fails to keep her quiet.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
1.
thar once was a big tree
grew high in the middle of the field
it sheltered from rain; became fine-home to blue-birds
till the cutting-folk came and slew it.. down.
2.
enver was a man who had great luck at the table
this gent won a ton of coins hands-down
which attracted the rabble from all round
so this pore-man from denver lost it once again..
3.
gently rowing splendid
along the fyne shore
to reach
make sure ye have two oars!
4.
peter was a pyper, had a girl named jessie
hardly went to market
when the livestock all got tired
he played a tune, all lively-like.. they all got up to dance!
5.
jolly molly had a dolly, that she called polly
they went by train to Swiss-towne, Bern
to order two cups of strawb-lolly
but once there, they broke stride and ordered two hot-chox.
6.
there once lived a physicist who brought earth-pendulum to life
Léon Foucault was he named and born unto this day
born in 1819 in gay-Paree and died in 1868
he set about wide-views of rotation right upon its head!
S T - 18 septemba
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Sudden discovery, a small deviation.
If only it wasn't him - drawing me in.
Deceived of weightless conditions
I found myself to be gravities victim.
Due the laws of universal attraction
within my orbit his force was in effect.
Falling for him never was inhibitable,
therefore I fell and dissolved to
dark matter
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 1:34 AM UTC
a chemist in love:
I think you must be acidic
(and I merely litmus)
because the way you kiss me
turns me red;
a biologist in love:
I think you must be ipecac
because the way you touch me
makes my stomach flip;
a physicist in love:
I think you must be seismic
because the way you love me
makes me shake;
a physicist in love;
I think you must be seismic
because the things you say to me
make me shudder;
a biologist in love:
I think you must be ipecac
because the way you touch me
makes my stomach turn;
a chemist in love:
I think you must be acidic
(and I merely litmus)
because the way you kiss me
fills me with dread.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Equipped with a mind of its own. So intelligent, independent. How lovely could such a thing be? Any one can honestly step a foot outside of their own comfort zone and could right away, catch a pretty being out the corner of their eye. But tell me, could anyone right off the bat spot someone with a pretty soul? A mindset of the wonders, so amorous that an aura of bliss surrounds She?
Could one glance, one move or one word overwhelm the physical structure? Can it possibly defy human qualities? Can She, possibly be? One glance, can easily tense muscles.
One move can without stress, shoot these sensations down your nervous system. One word can alter brain waves and deplete your speech in ways that your tongue becomes a foreign language.
Such a thing, such an emotion could not be solved by any physicist nor chemist. No medicine or research can overthrow something so powerful. It’s as simple as can be, but yet so dangerous and no one is immune.
A crush. That’s all that’s needed; so viral and contagious. Once you pass by the She who has this in their DNA, it causes for no turning back. You’re caught. You’re done. You’re stuck with this illness ‘til death. And that’s the thing. Everyone is bound to catch this disease eventually. There is that one person out there that matches your DNA. I guarantee that the person will infest your immune system ‘till death do us part. You just need to wait, don’t rush, stay patient.
If you overjump, you’ll ultimately hurt yourself for forcing your body into this sickness because of just a pretty appearence. It’s false, and straight up lethal. You’ll just know right off the bat when you found your matching illness. Your body will initiate, then your mind will, of course, follow.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
The meta-critical physicist ****** a
****** cyst over in a Starbucks bathroom,
only the prickly ***** picked
a ****** to do it in,
leaving in his wake beside the cake
floating in a rancid lake
What looked to be a
Big Mistake
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
What becomes of the broken-hearted?
I guess it matters who they are.
An artist? Masterpieces.
An existentialist? Epiphanies.
A physicist? Reality.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
You could tell
by Mamie’s face
she was sick
of shish kebabs
in fact it seemed
that the whole Moroccan holiday
was kind of getting
to her sensibilities
from the standing
on the two brick toilets
to the shish kebab
food misadventure
let’s go walk
on the beach
she said
before I throw up
with this crap
and so you walked
with her down through
the path to the beach
the moon and stars
above in a black
patchwork sky
the sound of the sea
rushing in and out
and the voices
of the others
getting less
and less
and she said
looking up at the sky
isn’t scary that sky
why is it scary?
you asked
it’s so vast
like it goes on forever
she said
I think Pascal found
the immensity
of the night sky
disturbing
you said
Pascal?
Is he on the coach?
Is he on the tour?
she asked
no he was a mathematician
and physicist and inventor
and Christian philosopher
in the 17th century
oh right
she said
boring ****
come on let’s get
on the beach
and lay down
and stare
at the sky
and stars
and that bright moon
and then we can snuggle
up close
and we’ll see
what comes
and she pulled you
onto the beach
and the damp sand
eased itself
between your toes
and the smell of the sea
hit you
and the sounds
and the wind
from off the sea’s shoulder
and she pulled you
down on the beach
beside her
and you lay back
and looked up
and the vast sky
seemed to press down
on you both
and she laughed
and said
it kind of makes
you seem small
and insignificant
doesn’t it
she said
you felt her hand
in yours
a soft pulse
of her being
right there
like a small beeping drum
and she turned
and looked at you
and smiled
and her smile was captured
by the moon’s glow
and you said
we need to remember
this moment
this being here
this newness of being
and she laughed
and said
don’t get too deep on me
and she leaned in
close to you
and kissed you
and her tongue
entered you
and the whole sky
seemed to witness
the moment
seemed to want
to embrace the kiss
the bright humanness
in her moonlit face.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:42 AM UTC
**** she your momma
misspelled your name
shoulda been Raygun
or Learjet
I sure wish you were a
physicist
so you could help me write my
General Theory of Poetry
teach me calculus
so we could prove Newton
was all wrong
but I posit a theory:
you must be an electrician
of the human body
well my circuitry is all ****** up,
if you read your way crack back to my
October, my doc told me I was a dying
and he didn't want to doctor me no more
so you see my bits done byte me good,
but named me a "dead" line in human fashion,
Nay, by May Eighteen, got finish my theorem,
cause I'm black hole'd and ******* myself
so have Leah bring a coffee refill,
let's get to collaborate,
I will operate in the ether of fudge factors,
you, will solder circuitry thru modern chemistry
and I will have my theory but no answers
but then I can give up this hopeless
poetry gig one lazy time and just
live your New York dreams
Read http://hellopoetry.com/raygan-keller/
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
This is like Schrodingers cat.
The trees bend and sway to impossible feats, but the moment I notice them, they stop.
What an amazing world we live in that is able to produce such absurd and seemingly unrealistic mechanics.
Oh what a day in the life of a quantum physicist must feel like.
Does he experience life the same as I, the "artist," based solely on creative expression and abstraction, or does he live in a purely mathematical realm where theorems and equations are the only facet of creation and intelligence?
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 11:49 PM UTC
My mind is ecstatic,
as I try to organize it.
Plentiful, a full attic,
men and women, animals and plants.
What use is it?
If not as a Physicist.
I look for skylight and I look for lamps.
The Ignorance is looking for truth.
There is no care for future children.
We all come from sea,
We all come from sand,
People war for Peter Pans.
Men die for other Man’s hands.
A strain of man is my pain.
The Sky and The Earth in my hand.
Forever I be in the age of Aquarius.
For a child we all are, we all are Ignorance.
The borders are our limits,
The ponds needn’t separate our spirits.
Nations rise again and again
But the world keeps on turning.
**** for belief if you wish,
But I will die for mine.
The Ignorance is looking for truth.
The hated is looking for love.
He takes but does not give,
He receives but does not plead.
How can one man see,
Without raising his eyes to the sky?
(and the Sky does not see at all).
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:41 AM UTC
It took years for the physicist
and the meta-physicist
to reluctantly agree.
They took opposing alleys:
One looked into matter
and arrived at its intrinsic energy.
The other looked at energy
and saw matter as incidental analogy;
just a random criss-cross
of cosmic puissance.
They made much ado
in arriving where my good old
three-band radio
catapulted me years ago.
Since my teens;
she had faithfully been
my worthy companion.
With sweet melodies,
thoughtful talks,
rousing commentaries....
she kept me company
through thick and thin.
For a scanty eternity,
she was the only tie with humanity
in my plain, flat life;
lonesome, sickly and solitary.
We knew each other closely;
fondly and dearly
and I would talk to her,
some would say foolishly,
and though strangely,
she always responded readily.
For years sixteen
that Philips machine
was with me
and I saw
into her inherent energy
that underlies every material entity.
#
When she died suddenly
without warning....abruptly,
I knew a friend had gone
but the essence lived on.
We had perfect camaraderie:
She was all intricacy;
body, battery and circuitry,
and the spark that came from me;
ah!!! my art of tuning adeptly.
Though I got newer models and makes,
the heart still beats with a dull ache
for the one who began as mortal matter
and bonded timelessly with my being;
...merged and mingled...
as an undying memory,
in what they call
my imperishable, impregnable spirit.
Nov 15, 2019
Nov 15, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC