Gravity and Levity

Giaconda by Rene Magritte, 1953

For Poetry Friday, over at Poem Farm, I'm posting another of my physics poems in the newly published Guys Read: True Stories, edited by Jon Scieszka (cover art below). It's titled Gravity, speaking of which I have a question. In Magritte's painting, Giaconda, are the bowlerized men falling, rising, or perhaps merely floating? Maybe they're turning in space, as they face different directions.

Gravity

The opposite of levity

Supposedly is gravity.

For levity means "lightness, mirth,"

While gravity means "down to earth."

And if it simply 

Wasn't there,

We'd float like blimps

Up in the air.

And though it's great,

I think, to fly,

The birds might hate

To share the sky.

And with your head 

Below your feet,

It might be difficult to eat.

To see your food float out of sight

Would surely hurt your appetite.

I'll bet your sleep

Inside a cloud

Would not be deep

When things got loud.

For thunderclaps

Would hurt your head

While you were sleeping

In your bed.

Let's stick with gravity instead.

I, ROBOT

I don't know about you guys, but I hate to have to prove that I'm "not a robot" every time I make a comment on a blog, deciphering those Captchas of discombobulated words. So for Poetry Friday, over at Dori Reads, I've created a poem that addresses that directly. 

I, ROBOT

To speak your mind
You have to prove
You're "not a robot"
And be approved.

Before your comment
Words are said,
You have to read
What can't be read.

But here I'll tell
The Blogosphere:
I AM A ROBOT!
I'm coming out here.

As for YOU, Please prove you're not a human:

By the way, growing up, Isaac Asimov was one of my favorite authors, not just his science fiction, but his non-fiction as well. I even wore a string tie in junior high school.

The Hedgehog

Poetry Friday is at A Wrong Spong, I mean A Wrung Sponge!

The Hedgehog

By J. J. Bell

The Hedgehog sleeps beneath the hedge—

As you may sometimes see—

And I prefer it sleeping there

To sleeping here with me!

                                         Walsall stone hippo by John Wood

Habits of the Hippopotamus
by Arthur Guiterman (1871-1943)

The hippopotamus is strong
     And huge of head and broad of bustle;
The limbs on which he rolls along
     Are big with hippopotomuscle.

He does not greatly care for sweets
     Like ice cream, apple pie, or custard,
But takes to flavor what he eats
     A little hippopotomustard.

The hippopotamus is true
     To his principles, and just;
He always tries his best to do
     The things one hippopotomust.

He never rides in trucks or trams,
      In taxicabs or omnibuses,
And so keeps out of traffic jams
     And other hippopotomusses.

Poetry Friday is over at Violet Nesdoly/Poems



New Stanzas for Amazing Grace
By Lord Allen Ginsberg 1926–1997-

I dreamed I dwelled in a homeless place
Where I was lost alone
Folk looked right through me into space
And passed with eyes of stone

O homeless hand on many a street
Accept this change from me
A friendly smile or word is sweet
As fearless charity

Woe workingman who hears the cry
And cannot spare a dime
Nor look into a homeless eye
Afraid to give the time

So rich or poor no gold to talk
A smile on your face
The homeless ones where you may walk
Receive amazing grace

I dreamed I dwelled in a homeless place
Where I was lost alone
Folk looked right through me into space
And passed with eyes of stone
April 2, 1994
Composed at the request of Ed Sanders for his production of The New Amazing
Grace, performed November 20, 1994, at the Poetry Project in St. Mark’s Church
in-the-Bouwerie. Thanks to the Poetry Foundation.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at On The Way to Somewhere with Rena Traxel