To the Chief Musician upon Nabla: A Tyndallic Ode

I come from fields of fractured ice,
Whose wounds are cured by squeezing,
Melting they cool, but in a trice,
Get warm again by freezing.
Here, in the frosty air, the sprays
With fern-like hoar-frost bristle,
There, liquid stars their watery rays
Shoot through the solid crystal.

 

I come from empyrean fires—
From microscopic spaces,
Where molecules with fierce desires,
Shiver in hot embraces.
The atoms clash, the spectra flash,
Projected on the screen,
The double D, magnesian b,
And Thallium’s living green.

 

We place our eye where these dark rays
Unite in this dark focus,
Right on the source of power we gaze,
Without a screen to cloak us.
Then, where the eye was placed at first,
We place a disc of platinum,
It glows, it puckers! will it burst?
How ever shall we flatten him!

 

This crystal tube the electric ray
Shows optically clean,
No dust or haze within, but stay!
All has not yet been seen.
What gleams are these of heavenly blue?
What air-drawn form appearing,
What mystic fish, that, ghostlike, through
The empty space is steering?

 

I light this sympathetic flame,
My faintest wish that answers,
I sing, it sweetly sings the same,
It dances with the dancers.
I shout, I whistle, clap my hands,
And stamp upon the platform,
The flame responds to my commands,
In this form and in that form.

 

What means that thrilling, drilling scream,
Protect me! ’tis the siren:
Her heart is fire, her breath is steam,
Her larynx is of iron.
Sun! dart thy beams! in tepid streams,
Rise, viewless exhalations!
And lap me round, that no rude sound
May mar my meditations.

 

Here let me pause.—These transient facts,
These fugitive impressions,
Must be transformed by mental acts,
To permanent possessions.
Then summon up your grasp of mind,
Your fancy scientific,
Till sights and sounds with thought combine
Become of truth prolific.

 

Go to! prepare your mental bricks,
Fetch them from every quarter,
Firm on the sand your basement fix
With best sensation mortar.
The top shall rise to heaven on high—
Or such an elevation,
That the swift whirl with which we fly
Shall conquer gravitation.

by  James Clerk Maxwell

Advertisements

The trick is slick code

The trick is slick code to manage
all the if, for, and while statements
in a optimized number of lines.
Pass a list, fix the syntax, import all the variables.
Comment your lines and indent where necessary,
leaving line breaks and whitespace
for readability.

by Monica Sharman

from https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/

Valentine by a Telegraph Clerk (male) to a Telegraph Clerk (female)

The tendrils of my soul are twined
With thine, though many a mile apart.
And thine in close coiled circuits wind
Around the needle of my heart.

Constant as Daniel, strong as Grove.
Ebullient throughout its depths like Smee,
My heart puts forth its tide of love,
And all its circuits close in thee.

O tell me, when along the line
From my full heart the message flows,
What currents are induced in thine?
One click from thee will end my woes.

Through many a volt the weber flew,
And clicked this answer back to me;
I am thy farad staunch and true,
Charged to a volt with love for thee.

 

Read more:Victorian scientists’ poetry: An anthology

“On breathing the Nitrous oxide” Poem by Humphry Davy

On breathing the Nitrous Oxide
Not in the ideal dreams of wild desire
Have I beheld a rapture wakening form
My bosom burns with no unhallowed fire
Yet is my cheek with rosy blushes warm
Yet are my eyes with sparkling lustre filled
Yet is my murmuring mouth replete with dying sound
Yet are my limbs with inward transports thrilld
And clad with new born mightiness around

by Humphry Davy

Ode to Code: A Geek Poem

Just think:
The twine of sine
and cosine, twang of tangents,
tangles of angles and twirls of tris,
the way each curve is wavelength,
like a sound is wavelength, light is
wavelength. A four forty’s tone
is blue, its hertz a wiggle,
wobble, flow from
high to low, a
nanometer’s
drunken walk
the shade of skies.

Perhaps by this was Schumann
driven mad; the way the math invades,
pervades, like A four forty in his ear
for years: a cosmic radio of audio
uncaused by any known thing.
Oh, the song was blue,
but blues were
something
Schumann
never heard.
Or always did.
Or thought he always did.

The azimuth, horizon, incidence;
The cadence, coda, recapitulation.
These are all the whirlwind tang of life:
From helices in mitochondria to lacy
fractal leaves to strings vibrating
quarks, and time we see
cross-sectioned.
Here we
have the arc
of it, the seconds. Mark.

And now, we twist our code
in loops, recurse in tighter spirals, flow
through chains of consequence — input
output GIGO FILO — at play with toys
that mimic magic, reify and
retro-fy, a Bezier here,
vector there,
a wave
of bosses, twirl
Of blues, a count of lives, all binary.

Signs, sines, sprites, twines, tangents, tunes, time. In rhyme.

By Raph Koster

from https://www.raphkoster.com/2007/01/14/the-sunday-poem-ode-to-code-a-geek-poem/

Raph has a book of his poems too! https://www.raphkoster.com/games/books/sunday-poems/

Plastiglomerate

This is how we know we’ve made it,
not by being in record books,
but by being dug up
and examined
by a civilisation
long after us,
who will not look
at the amalgamation
of rock, sand and coral
coated in synthetics
and see a rarity,
a novelty
but
a small-scale
representation
of how we shaped the earth
in the image
of our greed.

Note: Plastiglomerate is a ‘new’ rock formed when melted plastics combine with rock, sand, coral and other debris to form a geological entity that will be embedded in the fossil record, and noted as a characteristic of the Anthropocene. For more information: http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2014/06/rocks-made-plastic-found-hawaiian-beach
Creative Commons License
Plastiglomerate by Cheyenne Alexandria Phillips is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

CARBON CONNECTION

Carbon comes in many forms
Hard as diamond, soft as soot
Coal or graphite when we write
And fancy fullerine to boot.

Carbon chains are straight or branched
Or closed to form a ring
Organic compounds these are called
Parts for life they bring.

Coal and oil and fuel gas
Once mined they have much worth
These reservoirs of energy
Were once alive on earth.

When carbon joins with oxygen
It’s either two or one
The double causes drinks to fizz
The single one? you’re gone.

I mean carbon dioxide’s fairly good
Most days it is our friend
But carbon monoxide’s something else
One miss can mean the end.
–by Peter Elias

www.windows2universe.org/art_and_music/carbon.html