Science grows like a weed every year.
quote by Kary Mullis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Butterfly Weed
Oh lady bug, you've done a good deed.
Setting your table on the butterfly weed,
You're the custodian of all you survey,
On butterfly weed, till the end of the day.
Oh beautiful monarch, where do you feed,
I see you too love the butterfly weed.
You and the ladybug would be poor indeed,
If it was'nt for the butterfly weed.
Oh hummingbird whose throat seems to bleed,
What do you here on the butterfly weed?
All hummingbirds, good advice heed,
We love the orange butterfly weed.
God's smallest creatures, go by one creed,
To congregate on the butterfly weed.
Let the south wind blow, and spread your seed,
So that there will be millions of the butterfly weed.
5/31/03 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The question grows more troubling with each passing year how much of what yesterday's science fiction regarded as unspeakably dreadful has become today's award-winning research
quote by Theodore Roszak
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seaweed Shovelling Song
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Green weed, red weed, still alive and dead weed
Lying in a pile on the shore
Brown weed, pink weed, smelly kind of stink weed
Who on earth could ask for more!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Dry weed, wet weed, aint-been-troubled-yet weed
Glinting in the morning sun
Thin weed, thick weed, slimy kind of slick weed
Every bucket weighs a ton!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling man!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Strange Question Indeed
A young man under thirty his memory seemed gone
I thought for a moment he's having me on
When he asked me what year 'twas he did not even smile
Then methought he does not seek his amusement through guile.
I told him 06 yet it puzzles me so
That the year he is living in he does not know
Can people in their mid twenties suffer from the onset of alzheimers disease
That at such a young age his memory is starting to freeze?
But then I thought with him there could be something else wrong
Maybe last night he did overpuff on his bong
'Tis not good for the memory this stuff wizzy weed
Either way the young man of help did seem in need.
He had not been drinking as he walked a straight line
And health wise he is one who looks rather fine
And though to have a poor memory is never a sin
He seems too young not to know the year he is living in.
He looked in his mid twenties or a year or two more
And one I had never lain eyes on before
From one of his age a strange question indeed
The affects of alzheimers or too much wizzy weed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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There Is But One May In The Year,
There is but one May in the year,
And sometimes May is wet and cold;
There is but one May in the year
Before the year grows old.
Yet though it be the chilliest May,
With least of sun and most of showers,
Its wind and dew, its night and day,
Bring up the flowers.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Slavery is a weed that grows on every soil.
quote by Edmund Burke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arrogance is a weed that grows mostly on a dunghill.
I love having my hands in the dirt. It is never a science and always an art. There are no rules. And if it comes down to me versus that weed I'm trying to pull out of the ground that doesn't want to come out? I know I'll win.
quote by Matthew McConaughey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The weed that grows by the riverbank will not suffer the effect of draught.
The Weed
There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.
The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send
the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.
Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.
The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.
But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.
She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.
The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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There does not exist a category of science to which one can give the name applied science. There are science and the applications of science, bound together as the fruit of the tree which bears it.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, less than the weed that grows beside thy door.
quote by Adela Florence Nicolson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Misago Beach
On Misago
Beach there grows
Sargasso weed-
I'll hold fast to your name
Though your parents know!
poem by Yamabe no Akahito
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Undersea
Under the sea grows weed and fishes of grandeur,
The sharks are the small monsters to be amateur.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Never Smoke Weed With Willie Again
I always heard that his herb was top shelf
I just couldn't wait to find out for myself
Don't knock it till you tried it, well I tried it my friend
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I learned a hard lesson in a small Texas town
He fired up a fat boy and he passed him around
The last words I spoke before they tucked me in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I hopped on his old bus, the Honeysuckle Rose
The party was Vegas, it was after the show
Alone in the front lounge, just me and him
With one parting puff grime creeper set in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
Now we're passing the guitar, telling good jokes
I know ones a coming cause I'm smelling smoke
No I do not partake, I just let it pass by
With a smile on my face and a great contact high
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
In the fetal position with drool on my chin
I messed up and smoked weed with Willie again
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are two kinds of truth: the truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science, and the second is art. Neither is independent of the other or more important than the other. Without art science would be as useless as a pair of high forceps in the hands of a plumber. Without science art would become a crude mess of folklore and emotional quackery. The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous.
quote by Raymond Chandler
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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~Science 101~
Some have said that Poetry-
'Tis a Science...
Where words are layered and connected-
Together-
Like our bones-
A comparative anatomy-
With embellishments-
Similar to marbalized stones...
Living close to the sod and moss-
Nary a word or even its loss-
Usually i am lead into the dale-
Where nature grows flower 's-
Underneath its green veil-
And live out their youth-
In the Spring-
With Summer in between-
With a science to it all-
Dying come the Fall...
Dedicated To: Broomfield, Co.
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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