A Valentine that is Technically a Sonnet

How do I love thee? Let me quantify the ways.
I loved thee when first I observed thy configuration,
And I jumped to an excited state.
Before I met thee, I was a free radical,
But thou has made me more stable.
I loved thy reaction when a jewel (joule?) I shocked thee with.
We bonded and are now at equilibrium in the combined state.

Thou makest me feel almost noble.
I love thee for the children thou hast generated,
Who daily prove the second law of thermodynamics.
I love thee this Valentine’s Day, February 14,
Which incidentally is Jimmy Hoffa’s birthday.
I tell thee how I love thee,
That our love may never be reduced.

by Lowell T. Christensen

Collected from http://jcdverha.home.xs4all.nl/scijokes/

Advertisements

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

Collected from the excellent Windows to the Universe  site

https://www.windows2universe.org/art_and_music/carbon.html

Titration

A drop at a time from the burette,
known into unknown,
waiting for the giveaway colour change;
titration on a quiet afternoon.

She wanted to be a boy.
Drip drip drip,
Pink pink pink,
Princesses, ribbons; smile.
Pretty dresses, don’t get dirty,
tidiness, helpfulness,
the good wife always…

She looked a mess, climbed trees,
wrestled with her younger brother;
went topless on sunny days
in the woods, wore jeans.

Because they were fourteen
Because they were a gang
Because women gag for it
Because it was easy

A drop at a time from the burette,
known into unknown,
the whole world in a colour change;
titration on a quiet afternoon.

By Ruth Aylet

Originally published at https://thefatdamsel.wordpress.com/issue-2-part-2/

Ruth Aylett teaches computing at Heriot-Watt University. She is also a prize-winning poet and writer, whose work has appeared in New Writing Scotland; Doire Press, Textualities; Estuary – a confluence of Art and Poetry; Ink, Sweat and Tears and elsewhere.  She has read as a Shore Poets New Poet and at many Inky Fingers events. Read more about her work here.