A rare poem using Computing (IT) terms (and a good one!):

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binary code
binary system



you one
where I

where I am one

we do

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After Reading a Child’s Guide to Modern Physics

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.

Space is My Mistress

Space is my Mistress,
and she beckons my return.
Since our departure I think of you
and yearn to fly across the heavens arm in arm.
I marvel at your figure,
defined by the edges of continents.
You gaze at me with turquoise eyes,
perhaps mistaken for ocean atolls.
You tease me to fall into your bosom,
sculptured by tectonic rifts,
only to move away as if playing some tantalizing game.
Time and time we turn together,
through day, and night, and day,
repeating encounters every 90 minutes with a freshness,
as if we have never seen our faces before.
We stroll outside together,
enveloped by naked cosmos,
filled with desire to be one.
So close,
you sense my every breath,
which masks your stare through visor haze.
We dance on the swirls of cloud tops,
while skirting the islands of blue.
You know my heart beats fast for you.
Oh, Space is my mistress,
and when our orbits coincide,
we will once again make streaks of aurora across the sky.

Don Petit, 2012

don petit

Love is Chaos

(It’s relative, generally speaking)

The angle of incidence – the collision
The angle of reflection— the realization
Burned by the egregious refraction
Of searching eyes

What is the (anti) matter

Stretched between magnetic fields
Of Reason and Desire
How will the equation balance—
One side must invariably be solved

A centripetal force inveigling —
Explain entropic delusions
and test assumptions of reality.

—by Prasanta

Poem submitted as part of  community poetry prompts at

Poems about IT: Number 2

Broken Controls

existing firewall rules
are ineffective to prevent

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
the heart’s assets
have been sieged, and the brain
no longer

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


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?

Love Is a Lot Like Physics

Love is a lot
like physics:
it takes study

to understand
how masses —
yours, his —

attract; how his body
heat conducts and
your heart rate

accelerates before
either has had time
to evaluate impact.

You think you
understand velocity,
assume his speed

at takeoff matches
yours. You fail to
account for force

or Newton’s third
law of motion.
The outcome of that

one wrong electrical charge
leaves all the circuits
broken. You begin to

oscillate, fall from orbit,
finally calculate the variables
of just so much hot air.

— Maureen Doallas, author of Neruda’s Memoirs

Poem submitted as part of  community poetry prompts at