My Geometry!

I know that's not pleases you!
So skin and delicate! ! !
like something invisible. Naked!
Only what remains is the contour!
That you make.
And what we can do with a line? Only one?
Ask to mathematician!
He said that i have all geometric lines.
Form, size and others things.
Ask the astronomer too!
was him who has mapped the stars and planets, he said, that i have,
Left some surface still, that you did not pay attention.
That could be draws over there.
New design!
New hands. OH!
Even to me its was a surprise!
But, they sees my empty design and lines
And! dont blame me!
Was so good! ! ! !
Expose my entire space. So reveal.

[...] Read more

poem by Mirna Morgan
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A Song

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
and I sat near.
the handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car,
and you'd shift the gear.
we'd find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we'd repair
To where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Brodsky
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Britain's Slough and Upton

Brief Synopsis:

Just prior to German air raids on Slough
in World War Two, Thames Valley was
progressing with a new industrial plan,
which could have brought distress to
the peaceful rural land...John Betjeman,
the poet, wrote rhyming words to disapprove;
what more could a disappointed Laureate do?

'Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough,
it isn't fit for humans now'. John Betjeman.

But Slough today is a pleasant town,
where every amenity can be found...
and yew trees surround the graveyard
of the Norman Church of renown.
'Twas here ~ in his own Slough garden
Sir William Hershall of astronomy fame
built the world's large telescope,

[...] Read more

poem by Joyce Hemsley
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I Dream of a Perfect School

I dream of much,
For my child,
They should be trained,
And not run wild.

They should learn French,
And Arabic too,
They should learn English,
It’s long overdue.

They should learn karate,
And self-defense,
Gymnastics, Soccer,
Not sit on a bench.

They should learn Art,
To sing and perform,
They should learn drama,
For this is the norm.

[...] Read more

poem by Aisha Sherazi
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Stories Made Up

Retirement requires careful planning, I shall have to
keep quiet all the time; fine, it shall force me to write
when ideas keep flowing in my head, today in class
we learnt that French Kings – Clovis and Louis the
Fourteenth - have been cut from the curriculum
making space for international events

Brains have no space for boring historical facts, might
as well abolish history as subject since history is stories
made-up to exert autocratic power over subjects; today
has been a total mess – no going with the flow, but no
problem – tomorrow is another day as Scarlet O’Hara
eloquently declared in Gone with the Wind

I learnt to look for political articles on BBC Afrique, seek
for jewels of wisdom amongst political intrigue - finding
none, I am so much wiser, no time is ever wasted, just
knowing what we detest helps us to know preference,
I am ready for Retirement, knowing that my title of
Bookworm, Poet and Spy

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

Carl Sagan in Cosmos
Added by Catalin Popescu
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A poets dream

Hippocrene (hĭ p'ə -kren‘) is a fountain on Mount Helicon, Greece, sacred to the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration.

Mnemosyne (nemoz'ini) is a titan who is the personification of remembrance. She is the mother of the nine muses: “All nine muses have a science or an art to protect. Cleo protects the stories of heroes, Urania astronomy, Calliope elegies, Melpomene the tragedies, Euterpe flute playing, Erato love poems, Tepsicore choir lyrics, Thalia the comedies and Polyhymnia dance and music.”
“The Muses love to sing and dance. They are superior in musical competitions and any one who dares to challenge them will always fall short, just as those who question their importance.”

In a dream I drink from fount Hippocrene.
The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
Encompass me while I quench. Nine muses
Guarding their arts from human abuses.
'I'm not here to challenge or to question;
Nor I seek material possessions.
My presence among you in this dreamy
State is caused by my love of poetry.
And you, Erato, muse of all love poems
I'm a sleepy poet asleep at home.
It's known by some you sing beautifully.
Would all you muses’ sing a song for me?
My thirst is quenched from draft of drinking cup.
Please! Please sing for me before I wake up.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Mark Antony

Whenas the nightingale chanted her vespers,
And the wild forester couched on the ground,
Venus invited me in th' evening whispers
Unto a fragrant field with roses crowned,
Where she before had sent
My wishes' complement;
Unto my heart's content
Played with me on the green.
Never Mark Antony
Dallied more wantonly
With the fair Egyptian Queen.

First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted,
Thence fear surfeiting made me retire;
Next on her warmer lips, which when I tasted
My duller spirits made active as fire.
Then we began to dart
Each at another's heart,
Arrows that knew no smart,
Sweet lips and smiles between.

[...] Read more

poem by John Cleveland
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I Am The Living Bread: Meditation Eight: John 6:51

I kening through Astronomy Divine
The Worlds bright Battlement, wherein I spy
A Golden Path my Pensill cannot line,
From that bright Throne unto my Threshold ly.
And while my puzzled thoughts about it pore
I finde the Bread of Life in’t at my doore.

When that this Bird of Paradise put in
This Wicker Cage (my Corps) to tweedle praise
Had peckt the Fruite forbad: and so did fling
Away its Food; and lost its golden dayes;
It fell into Celestiall Famine sore:
And never could attain a morsell more.

Alas! alas! Poore Bird, what wilt thou doe?
The Creatures field no food for Souls e’re gave.
And if thou knock at Angells dores they show
An Empty Barrell: they no soul bread have.
Alas! Poore Bird, the Worlds White Loafe is done
And cannot yield thee here the smallest Crumb.

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Taylor
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Aurobindo 29-Savitri-Book -2

An appreciation on Savitri
Book II The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds
Canto V The Godheads of the Little Life
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'At first was only an etheric Space:
Its huge vibrations circled round and round
Housing some unconceived initiative:
Upheld by a supreme original Breath
Expansion and contraction's mystic act
Created touch and friction in the void,
Into abstract emptiness brought clash and clasp: '
Lesson carrying lines each...can't be skipped..

'Parent of an expanding universe
In a matrix of disintegrating force,
By spending it conserved an endless sum.
On the hearth of Space it kindled a viewless Fire
That, scattering worlds as one might scatter seeds,

[...] Read more

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Every Insight, The Big Bang, And The Thought That Follows, A Universe

Every insight, the Big Bang, and the thought that follows, a universe.
Every image that flashes across the moonscape like a silhouette
in reverse of the dark matter and starmud that surrounds it,
a black swan among the white when there's snow on the river.
Worlds bubbling out of the mouth of a fish through a hole in the ice
that looks like the third eye of a glacier taking a long, hard look
at whether it was worth opening all those lakes
and then filling them like eyes with the runoff of its own tears
as it disappears into a more fertile approach to letting go of itself.

I could always see a human shape hidden in the landscape
and I wanted to free it so I scraped and gouged
and dug my way into it like a dog unearthing the fossil
of a distant ancestor that ran with the wolves.
Even now when their ghosts howl it's a sad ballad
of the lyrical hills going mad by themselves
and sometimes it breaks my heart like water
in the cleft of a pseudomorphic rock to write picture-music
in striated cuneiform on the cliff faces to sing to themselves
like a lost people with more legend than life in its veins.

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Gratitude, Addressed To Lady Hesketh

This cap, that so stately apepars,
With ribbon-bound tassel on high,
Which seems by the crest that it rears
Ambitious of brushing the sky;
This cap to my Cousin I owe,
She gave it, and gave me beside,
Wreathed into an elegant bow,
The ribbon with which it was tied.

This wheel-footed studying chair,
Contrived both for toil and repose,
Wide-elbowed, and wadded with air,
In which I both scribble and doze,
Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,
And rival in lustre of that
In which, or astronomy lies,
Fair Cassiopeïa sat:

These carpets, so soft to the foot,
Caledonia's traffic and pride,

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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As Much As I Love The Stars

As much as I love the stars, I know
the spirit must seek its lost radiance
in the midst of the filth of this world,
even when its third eye is trying
to wash it off in tears it really means.
Under the half-closed eyelid
of the pine cone pagoda in oceanic meditation
is a fire-seed waiting for immolation
like an overdue urn about to give birth.
And do you see how the moon
feathers the waves with silver,
and the breathing waters so much
like the flesh of a woman undulating
under the caress of an unaccustomed hand
shines back like fish swimming through a starmap?

As above so below. Same with inside and outside.
Astrophysics is psychology. Noumena, phenomena.
Are you looking for a unified, field theory of your mind?
Study that small sacred syllable of a black ant

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poem by Patrick White
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This Is The 21st Century

(...if you could only see what Ive seen with your eyes)
A wise man once said
A flower is only
A sexual organ
Beauty is cruelty
And evolution
A wise man once said
That everything could be explained with mathematics
He had denied
His feminine side
Now where is the wisdom in that?
I came just as fast as I could
Through the dirty air
Of your neighbourhood
Your name on a grain of rice
Hangin around my neck
And a head like lead
This is the 21st century
I heard everything they said
The universe demystified

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song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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Drumshanbo Hustle

I was talkin' to the judge
Just before we left the countryside,
Paper in his hand,
Tryin' to find a way.
Goin' by the book,
"man, you oughtta make a serial."
Ripped the pages out
'fore they pull the final curtain down.
I remember the day
Just like the drumshanbo hustle.
We couldn't hear no birds,
They were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
An easy way to bring the money in.
You were pukin' up your guts
When you read the contract had been signed.
Prostitution on the run,
'ceptin what it was last night.
Tryin' to drain you dry,
Couldn't get too much rope.

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paddy's Letter, 1857

I've had all sorts of luck, sometimes bad, sometimes better,
But now I have somebody's luck and my own,
For I stooped in the street and I picked up a letter,
Which some one had written to send away home.

The old adage says, "What you find, you may keep it,"
And as most of these old sayings are very true,
I straight broke the seal, and then having read it,
The contents of this letter I tell unto you.

Dear Dermot, I hope when this letter gets to you
'Twill find you in health, as now it leaves me;
But I hope you're more happy than I am in Australia
If not, it's small comfort that you have, achree!

Hard fortune's been mine since crossing the line,
Though that same I ne'er saw, for we crossed it at night;
But they say 'twas laid down at expense of the Crown,
To divide the wrong side of the world from the right.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Galaxy

words by jason mraz & d. stevie journey, jr.
music by jason mraz
Here I am I'm sitting alone again I'm staring up at the sky which at this lonely moment is my only friend suddenly as I gaze upon the night I notice the stars began to shake and dance and fall into the darkness
They exploded down. I knew what I had to do. I ran up to the top of the hill and took ahold for you
The sweetest star that fell and yes I held on to it close to the numbness in my heart
And I kissed a star. I wrapped it up inside a golden bow and I ran away just to find you.
This was your gift a star that I kissed.
The galaxy that lived inside your eyes was in need of a brand new shining light.
I wished to the dark sky up above that all I had was to be captured and willingly turned over to you.
I know you better now and at this I smile. I simply gave to you the symbol of what you are to me.
You are the star that shines and explodes with light and I love and embrace all that I can.
Take this blindness away from me and let me bask inside your golden sea.
I never ever knew such simple astronomy could ever come to me by ways of the heart.
Call me to be one of those strangely dressed wise men who follow the stars to their love
You are such a perfect star to wish upon and I love you and yes I'm hopeful
Of what this lonely night may lead me into. I'm wishing upon you now.
Free me and let me indulge in my view a most beautiful you.
A keeper of starlight..
the way I feel: I'm feeling happy finally. I've no room for sorrow and I feel lit inside.
It's something I cannot hide. Oh maybe I've never felt this way before. Not for real.

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song performed by Jason Mraz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blight

Give me truths,
For I am weary of the surfaces,
And die of inanition. If I knew
Only the herbs and simples of the wood,
Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain, and pimpernel,
Blue-vetch, and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras,
Milkweeds, and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew,
And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods
Draw untold juices from the common earth,
Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell
Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply
By sweet affinities to human flesh,
Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,—
O that were much, and I could be a part
Of the round day, related to the sun,
And planted world, and full executor
Of their imperfect functions.
But these young scholars who invade our hills,
Bold as the engineer who fells the wood,
And travelling often in the cut he makes,

[...] Read more

poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Dreumshanbo Hustle

Transcribed by ear by David Chance
Notes from David Chance:
I transcribed these lyrics from the version performed on the Irish TV show Talk About Pop October 11, 1973 (sometimes dated September 11, 1973)...different from the P. Stone lyrics, but perhaps enough to help... For the guitarists here, the generic chord progression is G-Bm-C-D7...
See also the version released on The Philosopher's Stone
I was talkin' to the judge
just before we left the countryside,
paper in his hand,
tryin' to find a way.
Goin' by the book,
Man, you oughtta make a serial.
Ripped the pages out
'fore they pull the final curtain down.
I remember the day
just like the Drumshanbo hustle.
We couldn't hear no birds,
they were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
an easy way to bring the money in.
You were pukin' up your guts
when you read the contract had been signed.

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slow Train

Sometimes I feel so low-down and disgusted
Cant help but wonder whats happenin to my companions,
Are they lost or are they found, have they counted the cost itll take to bring
Down
All their earthly principles theyre gonna have to abandon?
Theres a slow, slow train comin up around the bend.
I had a woman down in alabama,
She was a backwoods girl, but she sure was realistic,
She said, boy, without a doubt, have to quit your mess and straighten out,
You could die down here, be just another accident statistic.
Theres a slow, slow train comin up around the bend.
All that foreign oil controlling american soil,
Look around you, its just bound to make you embarrassed.
Sheiks walkin around like kings, wearing fancy jewels and nose rings,
Deciding americas future from amsterdam and to paris
And theres a slow, slow train comin up around the bend.
Mans ego is inflated, his laws are outdated, they dont apply no more,
You cant rely no more to be standin around waitin
In the home of the brave, jefferson turnin over in his grave,
Fools glorifying themselves, trying to manipulate satan

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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