Poems about IT: Number 2

Broken Controls

existing firewall rules
are ineffective to prevent
intrusion

distributed denial-of-service attack
is launched,
flooding the heart –
causing malfunction,
disconnecting communication channel
with the brain

the heart left open,
love virus gets to work
spreading new sensations
which take deep roots,
taking over controls
in a matter of minutes

by the time
incident report is lodged
and root cause analysis
completed,
the heart’s assets
have been sieged, and the brain
no longer
rules

In computing, a firewall is a network security system that monitors and controls the incoming and ongoing network traffic based on pre-detemined access security rules.
Distributed denial-of-service attack is an attempt to make a machine unavailable to its intended users, e.g. by “flooding” the bandwidth or resources of a targeted system, eventually causing the system to crash. 

Poem by Anna at https://whatthewomanwrote.wordpress.com/2016/01/28/broken-controls/

 

The Migration of Darkness by Peter Payack

 

 Each evening, shortly after sunset,

darkness covers the land.

Having mystified thinkers for millennia,

the mechanism for this occurrence

has now been identified: migration.

Darkness, it has been found, is composed

of an almost infinite number of particles,

which roost and reproduce up north

where they have fewer natural enemies:

Forest fires, lampposts, lasers, blazing sunlight,

torches, candles, lighthouses, limelight, and electricity

are relatively rare in the polar regions.

  Peter Payack

The full poem is at http://peterpayack.info/id4.html

 

The Computation by John Donne

For the first twenty years since yesterday
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on favors past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last.
Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two,
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you,
Or in a thousand more forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life, but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal. Can ghosts die?

 

John Donne is one of the great poets. Who can resist sharing one of his poems?

Miroslav Holub — a reflection on accuracy

In science and mathematics, accuracy is key. In this poem, Mirslav Holub (an immunologist) reflects on accuracy. This poem was translated form the Czech by Ewald Osers.

Brief Reflection on Accuracy
Fish
    always accurately know where to move and when,
    and likewise
    birds have an accurate built-in time sense
    and orientation.
Humanity, however,
    lacking such instincts resorts to scientific
    research. Its nature is illustrated by the following
    occurrence.
A certain soldier
    had to fire a cannon at six o’clock sharp every evening.
    Being a soldier he did so. When his accuracy was
    investigated he explained:
I go by
    the absolutely accurate chronometer in the window
    of the clockmaker down in the city. Every day at seventeen
    forty-five I set my watch by it and
    climb the hill where my cannon stands ready.
    At seventeen fifty-nine precisely I step up to the cannon
    and at eighteen hours sharp I fire.
And it was clear
    that this method of firing was absolutely accurate.
    All that was left was to check that chronometer. So
    the clockmaker down in the city was questioned about
    his instrument’s accuracy.
Oh, said the clockmaker,
    this is one of the most accurate instruments ever. Just imagine,
    for many years now a cannon has been fired at six o’clock sharp.
    And every day I look at this chronometer
    and always it shows exactly six.
Chronometers tick and cannon boom.
Mirslav Holub      

 


	

Ions Mine, by J. J. Thomson

J J Thompson discovered the electron, and won the Physics Nobel Prize. He also wrote good verse!

In the dusty lab’ratory,
’Mid the coils and wax and twine,
There the atoms in their glory,
Ionize and recombine.

Chorus: Oh my darlings! Oh my darlings!
Oh my darling ions mine!
You are lost and gone forever
When just once you recombine!

In a tube quite electrodeless,
They discharge around a line,
And the glow they leave behind them
Is quite corking for a time.

And with quite a small expansion,
1.8 or 1.9,
You can get a cloud delightful,
Which explains both snow and rain.

In the weird magnetic circuit
See how lovingly they twine,
As each ion describes a spiral
Round its own magnetic line.

Ultra-violet radiation
From the arc of glowing lime,
Soon discharges a conductor
If it’s charged with minus sign.

Alpha rays from radium bromide
Cause a zinc-blende screen to shine,
Set it glowing, clearly showing
Scintillations all the time.

Radium bromide emanation,
Rutherford did first divine,
Turns to helium, then Sir William
Got the spectrum every line.

Sung to the tune of “Oh my Darling Clementine”

Pratiksha – The Wait

SONYA KASSAM

It was not the distance but the direction
That kept me from you
Searching through cosmic marvels
Within each duality
Though I did hear your call
And I know you heard mine
Why else would I be drawn towards you?
Irresistible, though the magnetic pull was no more than zero
(and no less)
Spinning through void within void
Where energy is enslaved by vibration
(and also conceived)
I uttered the name of your sound
The separation between you and I was devoid of space
Even time did not dare
All I had to do was wait
If only I knew how…

IMG-20170611-WA0000

***

Last Sunday, I met Shirish ji and found out that he paints as a hobby. Exactly one week later, early this morning, I messaged him to ask if I could see his paintings and perhaps use them as inspiration for my poetry. As I was falling asleep (for a…

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Postdoc

Truly a poem from the Laboratory, and one many young scientists will empathise with:

grammardog

Stretched thin by anxiety,

here is worry as a constant cycle

of panic, tears, and resignation.

Lean, rudderless years –

disappointments

interrupted only by self-loathing,

punctuated with the occasional beer.

Trapped in a folk song –

all alone

and out of money for gasoline.

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