Poetry Challenge

I have often been surprised that mathematics, the quintessence of truth should have found admirers so few and so languid. Frequent consideration and minute scrutiny have at length unravelled the cause; viz that though Reason is feasted Imagination is starved; whilst Reason is luxuriating in its proper Paradise, Imagination is wearily travelling on a dreary desert. To assist Reason by the stimulus of Imagination is the design of the following production.

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This was written as a justification for a poem, some years ago.

Perhaps modern readers might like to supply an alternative (loosewire?)

I like a challenge,I can do a measurement poem for you when I
get ready.I cannot help your lack of---------that you address
to me.I am surprised that you would lower your coat of arms to
the blade of my -------. Shakespear was a student of my
gemini body of work.Woe to the ------ that dare Impose on the turf
of the Moor of loosewire HEAR YE HEAR YE -There for,Where as
Loosewire has been ---------- to a match of wits,in the Land far way
he shall gather the words for that day.The match is so poor,the
Challenge he adore.Such an outward task,the cannons shall Blast
to announce to the world.

ALARM, ALARM Awaken the Knight, Awaken the Knight--
Loosewire is Coming--Loosewire is Coming--
He Make A Proclaimation then to sleep.
Las,the population Weep
That battle is so Steep
Las the population Weep
He douth need a word Deep

E-Male--E-Male--E-Male--
No Response--No Response
The Tea is lost.
The Tea is Lost.

When you awake in defeat,have a cup of coffe MATE.
The Tea is Lost.

Pity no one else is interested.

The poem I refer to was written in 1791 by a schoolboy who was later the author of one of the most famous poems in the English language.

http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/ascii_files/geometry_poem_letter.html

Pity The unknown Poet.
Someone Wrote
Nary a word,
Nary a Quote.

Living up to your expectations. (Loosewire)

Did I live up to your expectations.

What is Millman Theorem.

Do you prefer Rime or Rhyme?

At the risk of being OT, here is some verse for you. I penned these while at a friends cottage a couple of years ago. They are loosley based on the meter of some Tennyson classics. Can you guess whitch ones? Also, can you guess what took most of our time that weekend?


#1
He clasps the mug with crooked hands;
Off in his own imaginary lands,
Amidst the other drunks, he stands.
The sticky floor beneath him crawls;
He gazes at the spinning walls,
And in a heap he falls.


#2
Smoke and putrid air,
And another last call for me!
And may there be no whining from the bar,
When I get the drink in me,

Too much I slide as I pass into sleep,
My mind spins round the room,
The spark that drew me like a feckless creep,
Departs this gloom.

Dim light and beery smell,
As my vision goes dark!
And hope there’s no madness in Hell,
For whence I embark;

For when we’ve passed out of this grimy place,
The drunk may bear me far,
I hope I’ve not left in disgrace,
When I have closed the bar.


#3
Half a litre, half a litre
Half a litre downward.
Into the Valley of Delirium
Stumbled the Six Drunkards.

"Forward, the Gout Brigade!
"Charge for the Tyson Trophy!" he said:
Into the valley of Delirium
Stumbled the Six drunkards

"Forward, the Gout Brigade!
Was there a man dismayed?
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to overdo or die.
Ill-advisedly manly to Delirium
Stumbled the six drunkards.

Empties to the right of them,
Empties to the left of them,
Empties behind them
"Nose tokes only!"
Then sneezed with snot, Oh hell,
Badly their heads did swell,
On to relieve their Baldder,
Into the inky gel
Stumbled the six drunkards.

Flash’d their dinkies bare,
Flash’d as they pissed in air,
Splashing the rocks out there,
Farting and belching, while
The passer’s by wondered;
Plunged into the cabin’s-smoke,
Right through the screen they broke;
“Cock-sucker, quit pushin’”
Reel’d from the sudden poke
Sputter’d and blunder’d
Then three fell back, and out
Not the six drunkards.

Empties to the right of them,
Empties to the left of them,
Empties behind them
"More tokes? Holy!"
While ‘nuther of them fell,
They drank another spell,
Come to the true Delirium.
Time to ring the bell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six drunkards.

When will their headaches fade?
Oh, the wild night they made!
The passer’s by wondered.
Honor the binge they made.
Honor the Gout Brigade,
Noble six drunkards.

I was anwsering( studiot) loosewire reference,read the whole post,
strange it ended up in math,don't know what his thinging was.

Did you have to type that poem or just copy from file.

Mr. Transistor

Mr. Transistor sat strong and sure
his sturdy die with bits unpure
spent most his life with but one thought
he had a say what went on and not
then one day he thumped his chest
to claim status above all the rest
from far away across the board
a big IC gave such retort
"Of course, you make think this mean,
but you're just a cog in this big machine.
You prance, you dance with confidence bold
but all you can do is what you're told."
The very one once so proud and sure
was hit with truth too raw to endure
bzzzzzzzzzzt....poof..were his last words.

strange it ended up in math,don't know what his thinging was.

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edutainment of course.

Good poem about op.

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who got his foot stuck in a bucket
Instead of lie stagnant,
he glued on a big magnet,
stepped on a beam and unstuck it.

How about an entry by you Studiot?

I'm a lousy poet.....

"First day at school"
-------------------

Who are U?
Volta I R ....

Miss Watt matched up Volta with Ampere
While Mr Siemens sported a Mho

Then with some resistance
Ohm pushed Volta onto Ampere