A short tale of Geo, Hyper, and Parallel
and how they attempted to fool Euclid, and Descartes,
by sneaking off from school and across its yard
Once upon a late Spring Evening,
the classroom suddenly seemed vacated,
Euclid was up at the board,
talking about this and that,
turning around, discovering his best was a miss,
he turned seeing that Calculus,
was dozing on the back row,
notorious for being an instigator,
yet, he was there.
Euclid called for the truant officer,
sending him to look,
with him finding the trio,
down by the duck pond.
He thus asked of Geo,
why he was not in school,
Geo me try,
he did reply,
queried of Parallel,
oh, do you want me,
to hand you a line,
last was Hyper,
with the look of his eyes,
the officer knew he was in space.
By the neck,
the trio was hauled to old Descartes,
the principal and who had the rule,
saying to Geo Me try,
next speaking,
about Parallel Lines,
seeing that Hyper
was in space,
time was a waste.
Where ever we go in life,
we will encounter this trio,
Geo Me try,
Parallel Lines,
and Hyper Space,
they will always play with our minds,
thanks to Ms Stein and her roses,
we still can rhyme.
Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts
9/07/2008
Spikes Cemetary 9/6.08
As thoughts ramble thru this ancient Sabine forest,
Of Hickory, Oak and Pine,
As kin and neighbors of long ago,
Gather upon this hallow ground,
Stories transpire over cups of coffee boiled,
Filtered thru Grandpa's last sock,
Worn thing with age, as his skin roughen,
From years spent in mule's paths,
A teamster with his team,
Harvesting Pine and Blackjack Oak,
Stopping only to fill his pockets,
With morsels of Hickory Nuts,
For our youthful tongues,
To tingle our senses of life's abundant wonder.
We this day are gathered round this communal fire,
Feeding upon someone's homemake cake,
It is of this feast we do partake,
Where once by an ancient sea,
A multitude was fed upon loaves and fishes,
Ever so grateful of this sacrifice,
This lamb, given, to give us solace,
We sit, ramble round as this Sept wind,
Whistles thru the tall pines,
Whose straws flutter and spiral down,
From the crown, as wings of quail,
Rustle from the Dogwood,
As the lamb ascends,
We, stand upon hallow ground.
Of Hickory, Oak and Pine,
As kin and neighbors of long ago,
Gather upon this hallow ground,
Stories transpire over cups of coffee boiled,
Filtered thru Grandpa's last sock,
Worn thing with age, as his skin roughen,
From years spent in mule's paths,
A teamster with his team,
Harvesting Pine and Blackjack Oak,
Stopping only to fill his pockets,
With morsels of Hickory Nuts,
For our youthful tongues,
To tingle our senses of life's abundant wonder.
We this day are gathered round this communal fire,
Feeding upon someone's homemake cake,
It is of this feast we do partake,
Where once by an ancient sea,
A multitude was fed upon loaves and fishes,
Ever so grateful of this sacrifice,
This lamb, given, to give us solace,
We sit, ramble round as this Sept wind,
Whistles thru the tall pines,
Whose straws flutter and spiral down,
From the crown, as wings of quail,
Rustle from the Dogwood,
As the lamb ascends,
We, stand upon hallow ground.
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