Science in poetry
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There are the rushing waves
mountains of molecules
each stupidly minding its own business
yet forming white surf in unison
Ages on ages
before any eyes could see
year after year
thunderously pounding the shore as now.
For whom, for what?
On a dead planet
with no life to entertain.
Never at rest
tortured by energy
wasted prodigiously by the Sun
poured into space.
A mite makes the sea roar.
Deep in the sea
all molecules repeat
the patterns of one another
till complex new ones are formed.
They make others like themselves
and a new dance starts.
Growing in size and complexity
masses of atoms
dancing a pattern ever more intricate.
Out of the cradle
onto dry land
here it is
atoms with consciousness;
matter with curiosity.
Stands at the sea,
wonders at wondering: I
a universe of atoms
an atom in the Universe.
"The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms."
Islands: "O for God's sake
they are connected
Bin Ramke is well-versed in the sciences; he even studied math with R.L. Moore (of the Moore method) in undergrad.
Susan Somers-Willett wrote a lovely book called Quiver that had a lot of science in it.
Those are the main ones that come to mind at the moment.
His Lobachevsky is another goodie:
Let no one else's work evade your eyes
Remember why the good Lord made your eyes
So don't shade your eyes
But plagiarize, plagiarize, plagiarize
Only be sure always to call it please 'research'"
LEPROSY (To the tune of "Yesterday," by the Beatles)
Bits and pieces falling off of me.
But it isn't the toxicity;
It's just neglect of injury.
I'm not half the man I used to be.
Can't feel anything peripherally
From swollen nerves, hypersensitivity.
Why don't leprae grow in vitro? We cannot say.
In vivo they grow very slow, once in 12 da ... ay ... ay ... ays.
Hard to get,
But the stigma hasn't faded yet.
Don't keep an armadillo as a pet.
Clofazamine and Dapsone--don't …
(Unfortunately, the rest is behind Harper's paywall...)
Neutrinos they are very small.
They have no charge and have no mass
And do not interact at all.
The earth is just a silly ball
To them, through which they simply pass,
Like dustmaids down a drafty hall
Or photons through a sheet of glass.
They snub the most exquisite gas,
Ignore the most substantial wall,
Cold-shoulder steel and sounding brass,
Insult the stallion in his stall,
And, scorning barriers of class,
Infiltrate you and me! Like tall
And painless guillotines, they fall
Down through our heads into the grass.
At night, they enter at Nepal
And pierce the lover and his lass
From underneath the bed – you call
It wonderful; I call it crass.
Perhaps someone can giv me a definitive poem.