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Linda's Shasta Daisy

White

White

Yellow

Displaying

Burbank's creation

Pick—he loves me, he loves me not. 

Shasta Daisy - Fibonacci form

Bill GROGAN (re-observed)

Bill Grogan's goat,

was feeling fine.

Ate three red shirts,

right off the line.

Bill took a stick,

gave him three whacks,

And tied him to,

the railroad tracks.

The whistle blew,

the train grew nigh;

Bill Grogan's goat,

was doomed to die.

He gave three moans,

of mortal pain,

Coughed up those shirts,

and flagged that train.

******

A Boy Scout campfire song that is square in syllables, lines and verses—4x4x4. A cubic poem?

Nau•til•us: an Approximate Creature

Nautilus, chambered. 

Mathematics? Not really. 

By nature only. 

Smells more like…

Ah…normal distribution

(Of golden spirals). 

You could look it up. 

FIBONACCI? Not really. 

Logarithmic coil?

Not exactly. Else

One or the other would fit. 

Only nature fits. 

The Found Boat—A Précis

Spring rain; river overflows, shallow lake fills. 

 

Riding a log, two girls explore the flotsam, 

Find boat; old, damaged, half sunk, ruined, mostly.

They shout out, show teasing boys, schoolmates the wreck.

Delighted boys drag the hulk home, repair, seal. 

Girls watch the project day by day; at last done. 

Boys and girls launch, try it out by twos, threes, more. 

Success. No leaks. Make lunch and sail down river. 

An abandoned house appears.  Going ashore—

They explore, eat lunch, play games, dare each other—

To strip. They all do. They dance, sun shines...time stops. 

Married Love

I

know

she wears

college girl's

skirts and sweaters with

a barrette in her shoulder length

hair—just like the college girls of fifteen years ago—

and hasn't kept up with the times the way others have and she has a low-pitched, well-bred

voice that many people think is subtly insulting—

her confidence and homeliness

not often seen—met

together

in one—

plain—

face

Is it Magritte?

Extrapolate

 

When we drink, we get drunk. 

When we get drunk, we fall—

Asleep. When we fall a—

Sleep, we commit no sin—

When we commit no sin,

We go to heaven. So—

Adapted from

George Bernard Shaw

Mathematical Shaw– 

6x6 square

Dry time

Bergman Numbers

... there are no uninterest—

ing positive whole numbers—

“because if there were, there would—

be a smallest one, and the—

property of being the—

smallest uninteresting

number would be…be? You see?”

Thanks to Prof. 

--- George Bergman

 Emer. Prof. Math. 

        UC Berkeley

*Poetry&Mathematics—A square: the number of syllables in a line equals the number of lines.

Going

Where - are we going?

When - are we going?

Why - are we going?

We - are going - soon

I'm ready - at noon*

*Poetry&Mathematics—A square: the number of syllables in a line equals the number of lines.

REASON

Reason: It saves austere

and transparent phrases 

from the filthy discord

of tortured words—opens 

congealed fists of the past. 

All is new—the bright sun 

Mathematically square. Adapted from

Poet Czeslaw Milosz

The Carrion Crow (Haibun poetry)

The Carrion Crow

Crows abound in the 

neighborhood and around the 

yard. Often in early morning a 

great, noisy caw-fest occurs. 

A carrion crow

sat on an oak, fol de rid-

dle, lol de riddle…

Only tiny oaks sprout here and 

there, as planted by industrious 

blue jays. Crows sit in the 

neighbors' incense cedar, 

redwoods and other 

miscellaneous, unlooked-after 

bushes. 

Watching a taylor 

Shape his cloak; Sing heigh-ho 

the

carrion crow, fol…

Crows are very smart, it's 

known. They can pick latches, 

love to collect small shiny 

objects and are good thieves. 

Wife bring me my old, 

bent bow, fol de riddle, lol

De riddle, hi ding…

Crows in this neighborhood are 

urban crows. It may be  this 

makes them smarter than their 

country cousins. Nevertheless 

they are well nourished and 

sleek for living on the city 

streets. 

That I may shoot

Yon carrion crow; sing heigh-

Ho, the carrion…

Crows often crack a walnut by 

dropping it repeatedly from a 

street light standard. There's 

an instance in town where a 

house down-spout was clogged 

with too many shells. A crow or 

crows opened nuts while on the 

roof. 

The Taylor he shot

And missed his mark, fol de 

rid-

dle, lol de riddle…

A crow across town enjoyed a 

left-over, smashed-flat-in-a-

parking lot, bag of French-fry 

and hamburger leavings; held 

the paper down with a foot and 

picked it clean. 

And shot his old sow 

Quite through the heart; sing 

heigh-ho 

The carrion crow,

Fol-de-riddle, lol de riddle, hi 

ding do.

Wife bring brandy—in

A spoon for our old sow is

In a swoon! Heigh-ho…

The Pines of Rome