Wednesday, September 14, 2022

Mister Riemann’s Maths Lecture

‘Hello class, I’m Riemann Sphere

I feel so floored to see you here.'

'Now sit tight data and digits,

I’ll subtract numbers who fidget.'

 

‘I really hope you stay today

and marvel at my spectacle.'

'Please avoid shuffling away,

Your thoughts may be un-integral’

 

‘Never equate beliefs with facts,

please promise me and sign your pacts.'

Sayings are never set in stone.'

'Clyde Divide, turn off your smartphone!’

 

‘Please quit thrusting Chord Vector-mort, 

or I’ll divide your fun free time.’

Hey, you cut my winning game short!

I almost snapped the chord this time!


‘Urgh, since Clyde carries us away

I’ll deviate to phones, whoo hoo.’ 

‘My flip-phones died in just 3 days,

while yours live 3 long years boo hoo’.

 

‘Now let’s finish our great lecture

Hey, halt hectoring Ty, Hector!’

For Hector carried mean whispers,

to wild Boxy’s wily whiskers.

 

This pair always risk double dares.

Their dares drive them to naughty stairs.

‘Class, all but maths is subjective,

though valid, never objective’.

 

‘I love how maths is binary,

other subjects seem too blurry'.

'Their theories have lots of blots'.

'Stop daydreaming Boxy plot!'

 

Hey leave me in Diagon Alley!

There, tally charts never trick me!

Rieman rolled his eyes at her larks,

you must plot more charts Box!’, he barks.

 

‘Though scriptures preach they’re always right,

they cannot serve hipsters, wizards,

or misfits fighting for their rights'.

'Maths wins, through blisters and blizzards!'.

 

‘Looks of Maths books could be improved

but their sums all stay the same’.

Whoo, I sliced Chord Vectormort Dude!

’Exit that door Clyde, no more games!’

 

‘Sorry for thrusting y’all that curveball.'

'Now it’s clear 3 plus 1 as 4.’

‘We don’t need to argue or bawl,

we should take sums as truths, not lore. 

 

‘Well done to those writing neat notes,

those non-anomalies I dote.’

‘Ty Tangent, I love your workings!

‘Other symbols, please stop shirking!’


HA, TY KISSING RIE’S CURVE AGAIN!!!

buzzed obtuse denominators.

They can’t refrain from causing pain,

to Ty, the smart numerator.

 

‘A World where all is mutating,

and nothing stays in fine straight lines,

can sometimes feel a bit grating'.

'At least maths cuts clean as white wine.’

 

‘I love how maths never alters.

I can take them without falters.'

'Free of stomach flutters and frets,

Maths will help us to win all bets.’

 

Riemann’s speech ends in a full round,

the set’s babbles trespass their bounds.

Rie’s phrases cleanly erases,

as signs jumped to their next phases.


Thursday, July 7, 2022

A Handsome Man - Description

The man sported his black martial arts suit which served to accentuate his fine muscular physique. It was cut open to reveal his amazing abdominals. In the half light, they glimmered a mesmerising milky marble then melted to a softer silvery shade of grey, before finally fading into shadows. The moonlight created an ominous, ombre effect on his upper torso. His blue eyes gazed into the distance, as sharp, steely, and sombre as a sword. His jaw was set in a rigid, unwavering line. He had rippling raven hair, curling down his chiselled features to his broad shoulders.

Wednesday, June 29, 2022

Leaves on valleys and soil on rocky roads - Description

We crossed sloping valleys. They felt as cracked and crisp afoot as nut-butter nature valley biscuits. They were scattered with leaves as crunchy as roasted peanuts. Though the leaves dried up, they were not yet powdery as their sinewy veins firmly bound up their membranes. They fluffed and puffed up like popcorn kernels rustling on crinkly beige baking parchment. The rocky roads we reached were smothered with soil as crumbly and moist as chocolate cookie dough. The bread brown ground was spread with leaves as brown as nut-butter. They were autumnal but not yet burnt toast, rough and ready to be crumbled into breadcrumbs.


Friday, June 24, 2022

Wilhelmina’s Whimsy about a Tiny Tulip

My name is Wilhelmina Blake,

I am a poet in Line of Lakes, 

 

One morning felt tiresome and tepid,

and suddenly, I felt intrepid.

 

Saucily I stepped outside,

nothing could spoil my stride.

 

I found a tulip in a patch of green,

its crisp petals shimmered a clinquant sheen.

 

They are finely woven with golden thread.

They look like awnings for a fairy bed.

 

I wonder what sentient sweetheart would sleep there,

perhaps a fairy with a frilly sort of air.

 

She could be called miss Taffy Toole,

but others call her Frumpy Fool.

 

I feel horrified they inflict her such harm,

especially with her frothy sort of charm.

 

While she effulges like bejewelled buttons,

her bullies holler like bow wow muttons.

 

The petals might resemble fairy wings,

while they are fluttering in wispy winds.

 

Inside hides clusters of black seeds,

they shimmer like metallic beads.

 

A reed sways over with gilded fronds,

it bewitches me like fairy wands.

 

Or it could be an anemone,

which Toole uses to sweep her chimney.

 

After singing for this tiny tulip

I will sip a jolly good mint julep



Thursday, June 9, 2022

Junnu Joys and Date Dreams - Haiku

I’m a tourist y’all

My hotel’s near Taj Mahal,

where the muezzins call.

 

Starving in my suite,

I order junnu to eat.

Staff tell me it’s sweet.

 

It’s wobbly and white.

it is deffo no delight 

Nervously, I bite

 

It slowly dissolves,

my droll tongue dances and rolls 

Earth halts its revolves. 

 

My mouth melts with suds.

They are soft as jasmine buds.

Junnu beats boiled spuds.

 

Savouring the tastes,

My lids slip sink in sleepy states,

until taste abates.

 

Luring me like bait,

were treacly dates on a plate.

Their smell swells my weight.

 

Dark dates will at last,

tether my sweet tooth so vast.

I can get fit fast.

 

I reach for the fruit

I crush my cravings by root.

It brims me to boot.

 

I’m dying to dose,

so, I can rise like a rose.

Feel how morrow flows.


I’ll mount all step-walls,

fuelled by fresh date protein balls,

bought from market stalls.

 


Wednesday, May 25, 2022

Maddie's Meet Cute with Batman - narrative poem

In Gotham lives a Batman fan.

 

She’s the loudest in her clan.

 

Maddie Granger was her name.

 

Her fangirl cries fan batman’s fame.

 

SShe gushes at his great glowers.

 

He sure needs no superpowers.

 

while others fought when they were ought,

 

he was not bred of that sort.

 

The strengths he sown are all his own,

 

A selfless strong man he had grown.

 

A sharp mind is his only shield

 

What other weapon must he wield?

 

He built a belt with his own wealth

 

used to lasso, whip, sling, or stealth.

 

She marvels at his marbled face,

 

burning hotter than her flat’s furnace.

 

She desires his simmering fire,

 

It could enflame an entire empire.

 

Despite being forced to study and snore

 

She favours frolics beyond her door

 

When her whimsies swell too wide

 

She runs outside for ripping rides

 

sometimes she goes overboard

 

last night she got fiercely floored

 

She cartwheeled down Gotham past mum’s curfew

 

after slurping mum’s sickly stew

 

flapping her arms like carefree fishes

 

she did this to deter drying the dishes.

 

Suddenly, she lost her bounce,

 

after jarring joker’s pounce.

 

Before she tumbled down to dunes

 

Save me batman she sorely swooned

 

I beg you blast that wretched brute

 

Geared up in his garish suit

 

as Batman slayed this seedy prey,

 

she shoved aside some strands gone stray.

 

Her fairest face must manifest,

 

for this man who beats the rest.

 

Lizzie cheered for her Caped Crusader:

 

oh batman you outdo Darth Vader

 

You make my heart rock and roll

 

And open doors to my soul

 

Batman nodded then off he ran,

 

Her dating dreams now just began.

 

First it was his dashing gaze,

 

that got her in a giddy daze.

 

Now it was his gallantry,

 

that revved her rosy reverie.

 

Now she never felt more sure,

 

her love was deeper than before.

 

They could dine, and date and dance,

 

if he would give her a chance.

 

She hoped that on one fine morn,

 

when roses bloom or doves are born,

 

that Batman clasps her tender hand,

 

and slides a silver wedding band.

 

Once they make their wedding vows,

 

her fantasies will never douse;

 

Cause she'll have a hot husband,

 

whose love for her will never end.

 

Mister Riemann’s Maths Lecture

‘Hello class, I’m Riemann Sphere I feel so floored to see you here.' 'Now sit tight data and digits, I’ll subtract numbers who fidge...