by Sam Roberts
Swirling in a vortex of mathematical madness.
This sadness, solemn silence of Pythagoras.
Where I pity the Surds, and absurdity,
which will unwittingly over come me.
So I pray to the paper of x
to give me the peace to rest.
But the tired eyes fight the formula
so that I might, try to see... if I can get a B.
Either that or I will just procrastinate,
illustrate and illuminate, the powers that are 10
or the standard index, of my pen.
I must pretend.... that maths = the end.
Author's Note: Currently studying for an exam that will get me into teaching. This is what I have been doing - NOT revising obviously.
Posted on 05/29/2014
Copyright © 2023 Sam Roberts
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/29/14 at 04:39 PM|
Although Math was never my strong suit, I like what you've done her poetically and mathematically, Sam. Good luck with the exam! :)
|Posted by George Hoerner on 05/29/14 at 11:50 PM|
Math really shows us what can be done with a few definitions and application of some logical set of rules. Really a cute write!!
|Posted by Jim Benz on 05/31/14 at 02:07 AM|
You have my full sympathy, but its a good poem too.
|Posted by John Harder on 05/31/14 at 05:19 PM|
You've combined the beauty of poetry and numbers in a very clever and original way. Excellent piece!
|Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 06/07/14 at 11:56 AM|