Maths
Maths is fun but can be boring,
You never know when tests are due,
Sometimes hard,
Never know whats coming the next day,
Sometime on the top floor! ! ! !
Theres always Algebra, Numbers, Addition, Sums
Lots of them.
More and more homework everyday,
Either online or written,
Tables set out allover the place,
Table by table,
Sat alphabetically.
Numbers allover the place,
Loads of them! ! !
poem by Sophie Hanson
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Related quotes
A Poem in Maths
Count your blessings, God-given;
Add them one by one, each day;
Subtract your pessimism;
Divide time for all your works;
Multiply your joys in life;
Get success in earthly stay,
By praying to the Lord.
Numbers are infinitesimal;
Numbers are so magical;
Numbers can have decimal;
Numbers rule the modern world.
Numbers are abstract / real;
Numbers can amuse us all;
Numbers are the ‘bricks’ of Maths!
Numberless, world is dismal.
They can count your hair, these days;
They can count the stars, some ways;
Man’s progression in Maths is base,
For putting man on Moon, or Mars?
Numbers make computers work;
Hypotheses form the science;
Integers are wonders too;
A genius in mathematics
Is a MATHEMAGICIAN!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-22-2007
poem by John Celes
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Ink, Allover My Skin
I sit here with ink allover my skin
dropped here by my dancing tears
tears that won't leave my skin
till the song has faded away
it seam each tear writes it own song
and in each song it sings
a feeling a melody of wanting pain
the pain I sing, each time i cry, in melody for you
lyrically leads to invisible ink stains
allover my tear soaked skin
what if you could see my love
in each and every tear drop
writing its only love song
would you cover me up and hide me away
be ashamed, or take me as something broken
but someone who you could love a new
Dancing Teardrops
singing allover my skin
poem by Verlecia fields
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The Natural Numbers
My numbers never ending
Stretching to infinity
But never ever reaching there
And always further off than me
Are those strange transfinite numbers
Whose names sound like some odd code
Like aleph and omega
And, as Mr Godel showed
We need these abstract artefacts
Even if imaginary
To prove all higher theorems
And ensure consistency
But there are further mysteries
That from my numbers do arise
Like never ending decimals
Irrational numbers in disguise
They too are quite invented
Just convenient in use
When my simple natural numbers
Do not serve to make a proof
Oh the mysteries of numbers!
Oh the madness of all that!
When what started off as counting
Becomes higher abstract maths.
poem by David Keig
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Numerical Tyranny
Who conspired
this needless need for
the numbers?
Now we all live in fear of
the numbers
tremble at the feet of
the numbers
live our lives according to the demands of
the numbers
Identify ourselves by
the numbers
we've sold ourselves short with
the numbers
locked ourselves in a cell with
the numbers
no one believes they can escape
the numbers
our status our worth
our health our happiness
all dictated by
the numbers
Who are you?
Are you just another
number?
For if only we could see the truth behind
the numbers:
the truth being
there is only one number
that number is one
and that one stretches on
through infinitude.
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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On The Floor
[verse]
The bed gives
Cupboard might break underneath you
Hard as I try
The table might shake
Could break a leg when I do what I do
I'm all about mine
[chorus]
Consider the love we made
When pleasure can be found
In and all around
The right place is on the floor
Why don't we get down on the floor
I won't leave you wanting for more
If we get down on the floor
On the floor
[verse]
Comfortable spot
When I get you hot
A place to lay your head
Was it Socrates who said
Good to the last drop
song performed by by Brian McKnight from I Remember You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Budget or Bud-jet
When you see it, it is just a pile of numbers or a graph or a grip or a table.
When you feel it, it metamorphoses into a monster or an elephant or a bird or a fish or a tiger or a eel or a dog or a shark or a bug or a snake or a hawk or a vulture or a rat or a whale or an ant or a cat or a.......
When you use it, it is just a machine.
when you lose it, it is a hell.
When you win it, it is just a heaven.
When you die, it is just a pile of numbers.
I Haven't Done My Homework!
I haven't done my homework Dad!
(Dad) Well my boy that's very bad!
But Dad my homework book got eaten!
(Dad) Don't lie to me or you'll get a beat'n!
But Dad it's true my book has gone!
(Dad) Now my son you're very wrong!
I saw it on the kitchen table
I do not like your silly fables
But Dad the Dog has eaten it
I saw him eat it, every bit!
(Dad) OK my son I've had it now!
It's homework time, dont want a row!
Ask your mum where it could be
I want it done before your tea!
(Mum) Oh my son you'll never guess
I put it on the floor
and the dog has eaten it
and your homework book's no more!
poem by Alex Skerratt
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The Chase
you chase the numbers
and you are at a loss
how can the numbers feel?
you are in a discomfort
in some fits
and not at ease with yourself
because you believe in
numbers and like horses you
want to capture each
with a rope of your
tired imagination
disregard the numbers and begin
to believe in the words
those syllables
even in the simplest form
of the comma,
the period.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Ode for David
Inspiration
From a lopsided table?
Words written down
Told as a fable
Strange request you have
My dear friend
Inspiration I will find
This I do intend
Wooden Table
Possess my tongue
Wintered table
Cry from my lungs
Pen striking paper
You shall be my muse
May the bleeding ink
Cry of your blues
Splintered skin
In a corner rest forgotten
Winding legs
You stand wild as cotton
Pen stroke slide
Across your lofty floor
Three legs you stand
When you should have four
Awkward table
You have no friend
Ancient table
You've reached your bitterend
Should my pen learn sea legs
I'd love you once more
But, on three legs you stand
When you should have four
poem by Kay Gardner
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Numbers Sanctify
Numbers sanctify something's influence.
They ensure the extent of dependence
We place upon our bellicose critics
And their world of detachable aesthetics.
We are now an unengaged audience.
There is a mathematics of credence,
An arithmetic of ambivalence
That has equated us apathetic.
Numbers sanctify.
A numeral suggests more evidence
Than the antiquities of eloquence,
Making us compulsively neurotic
Rather than truly expressionistic.
What terrors will come as a consequence?
Numbers sanctify.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Maths
Algebra and Geometry are the two branches of maths
Which makes us think and we are in a fuss!
It is the best subject of education
For achieving good marks we need
dedication, determination and devotion
Algebra is well known for its equation,
Geometry for its proofs and theorems.
If we practise these subjects regularly
And master these coming out with flying colours
We will be someone like Aryabhatta or Pythagoras.
poem by Green Peace
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Your dressing table in the hall
In the house in fifth avenue
I put a small pink white marble table
below a mirror in the corridor
with a bowl with flowers standing on it
that acted as your dressing table
and as a place of display
where I saw your face smiling back at me
while you were doing your hair
teasing with curling tongs
or reflections of the rows of paintings
with the wood floor fading into the distance
and now that mirror and table
is probably still there,
but you are living alone
in that big house
and will never again
smile back into my face.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Day And Date
Nests to birds and holes to foxes,
Of the olive oil and honey on my table;
But in the obscurity of darkness,
The harvest time is very great.
Unmarked graves,
The choicest wine at the beginning of love;
There is a day and a date for everyone.
Of the rich man's table and the poor man's table,
Like homes without numbers to compare with these graves;
But you need ten silver coins to reach my home.
A fig tree with leaves and the horse-walk of things,
You need a 'pencilcure' act to note my mind;
And from 'dreamontology' to 'dondoorlogy'to what is prepared.
The king and the Queen do seek for me,
But i am always missing out of their sites;
Since i do have a day and a date on my lovers heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Addition
I do not question whether I am happy or unhappy.
Yet there is one thing that I keep gladly in mind --
that in the great addition (their addition that I abhor)
that has so many numbers, I am not one
of the many units there. In the final sum
I have not been calculated. And this joy suffices me.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Numbers..
Numbers are cruel,
When the heart beats ninety per minute,
when pressure is, down very down,
High very high, fluctuating.
Numbers are cruel,
when wearing spectacles,
power can not be adjusted,
must buy a new pair.
Numbers are cruel,
when using Glucometer,
higher the reading,
must control the eating.
Numbers are cruel,
when one has thousand,
sometimes in negatives and
the other has millions.
Numbers are cruel,
when one is young and fresh,
and the other is old and in mess,
bigger the number, wiser.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Zero One Slash Seventeen Slash Zero Nine
he does not like to use numbers
and so all his numbers are letters
and all his thoughts in numbers
are written in letters including the
date when his poem is written
making it the very title of the same
and all his emotions are in letters
even though he knows that each
feeling has a corresponding number
and even the colors are numbered
in letters. Blue is the number four.
Nine is class. Forty-seven is pride.
ninety-nine is not perfect and
one hundred is too much for an
old aging man like him who likes
to arrive at zero and then enjoy
his much needed rest. He likes to
be happy and wants to sleep, so he
begins to write, one, two, three, four,
five, six.... and so on and so forth.
autistic savant, they all call him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A terse poem on numbers
Numbers are everywhere
twenty four hours in a day
seven days in one week
thirty one in the month of May.
A number on your front door
and on houses down your road
numbers on your credit card
and also of your postal code.
Numbers called out at Bingo
two fat ladies are number eight
and if your numbers come up
you'll go home feeling great.
Would you like a cup of tea?
one or two sugars in your cup?
sorry but I have to go now
that's the end time is up!
poem by Kevin Halls
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No More Homework, No More Tests
(I was going through my cousins papers after he died and found this. I decided to put this up here today... he left all his works of peoetry to me and some of them we wrote together. I may start to put up some of his poetry on here, i dunno.)
No more homework! No more tests!
We the students of the USA certainly agree,
That’s that the thing for me.
Now I am elected,
To tell you all,
It was a all around vote, we all defiantly agree,
That no more homework, no more tests,
Are the things for us students you see.
We already learn, and (devote) we hope, hours of our time.
So I hope you can agree and certainly see the point we are making.
Less grading for you, more fun for us,
So please, we beg you,
No more homework! No more tests!
poem by Jinx Natta
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I think soccer is more respected now than it ever has been. You can see that in the numbers of young kids who are playing and the numbers of people who are coming to watch.
quote by Brandi Chastain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Magic of Numbers
The Magic of Numbers—1
How strange it was to hear the furniture being moved around in the apartment upstairs!
I was twenty-six, and you were twenty-two.
The Magic of Numbers—2
You asked me if I wanted to run, but I said no and walked on.
I was nineteen, and you were seven.
The Magic of Numbers—3
Yes, but does X really like us?
We were both twenty-seven.
The Magic of Numbers—4
You look like Jerry Lewis (1950).
The Magic of Numbers—5
Grandfather and grandmother want you to go over to their house for dinner.
They were sixty-nine, and I was two and a half.
The Magic of Numbers—6
One day when I was twenty-nine years old I met you and nothing happened.
The Magic of Numbers—7
No, of course it wasn’t I who came to the library!
Brown eyes, flushed cheeks, brown hair. I was twenty-nine, and you were sixteen.
The Magic of Numbers—8
After we made love one night in Rockport I went outside and kissed the road
I felt so carried away. I was twenty-three, and you were nineteen.
The Magic of Numbers—9
I was twenty-nine, and so were you. We had a very passionate time.
Everything I read turned into a story about you and me, and everything I did was turned into a poem.
“The Magic of Numbers” from The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Copyright © 2006 by Kenneth Koch.
poem by Kenneth Koch
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