The Particle Physics of Poetry

The big bang
     or God
should have created
equal amounts of
poetry and prose

but today
bookstores
     the few that remain
and libraries
     the few that are open
are mostly prose

Poetry is
the antimatter
of our universe

rare
elusive

which is funny
because it wants
so desperately
to be found

It should be
as common
as hydrogen
     but it’s not

Perhaps it’s fear
the fear that
prose and poetry
will annihilate each other
if they come into contact
with each other

We have to keep
poetry separate
or we’ll destroy ourselves
     shout the prosaic

Maybe it’s the poets
that are antiparticles
simultaneously
matter and antimatter

some miracle of science
     or art
that keeps them
from exploding

Putting words onto a page
the merest of matter
microns of ink
on millimeters of paper

crafted out of
the poet’s
     antiparticle
soul

Like a poetry reading
sound waves
vibrating air molecules
between the poet
and the listener

and then they’re gone
     the vibrations ceasing
as if they were never there

We’re left
wondering
how have we changed

In the particle physics
of poetry
there are still
mysteries

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the matter/anti-matter prompts at Poetic Asides.

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Improving Our Understanding

Even good students
     when they have
     obtained the solution
shut their books
and look
for something else.

They miss
     an instructive phase
          of the work.

They could
     consolidate their knowledge
          and develop their ability
to solve problems
     by looking back
          at the completed solution
by reconsidering
and reexamining
the result
and the path
that led to it.

A good teacher
should understand
and impress on students
the view that
     no problem
          is completely exhausted.

There remains
always
something
to do.

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the looking back prompt at Poetic Asides. It is a found poem.

Pólya, George. “In the Classroom.” How to Solve It; a New Aspect of Mathematical Method. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1957. 14-15. Print.

happy hour

visit our restaurant
located in the nines

even after seeing so many mixed reviews
I would have been perfectly happy

without the sauce
as the year draws to a close

to spend time with family and friends,
reminiscing about the past twelve months

having a chat
photos and videos

a killer patio
a plum assignment

with stunning views of
dinner vegan menu

select cocktails, wine, champagne,
tickets and reviews

finally heading home

/ / /

I’ve combined two prompts in this poem: a departure poem from Poetic Asides with the On Demand prompt from PoMoSco. I used “happy departure” as my word combination.

cool

there were no tornado warnings
but we went down to the cellar
the dirt floor was cool on our bare feet
and the air was cooler too
stealing away humidity’s power

this was our music shelter
where we could play Beatles 45s
and sway and dance and sing
escape the adult frowns
and wait for the cool night and fireflies

/ / /

This poem was written to the shelter prompt at Poetic Asides. I borrowed “music” from Elizabeth’s words for day nine at her blog, 1sojournal.

Every Red Light

driving makes me crazy

so every red light now
is a moment of peace

a time to sit
           to breathe
           to be

not driving
not thinking

not worrying
about the other drivers
or the time
or my destination

this red light
this time now
is for me
to be at peace

/ / /

This poem was written in response to the peaceful poem prompt at Poetic Asides. It was inspired by the writings of Thich Nhat Hanh.