One of my teachers -- I think it was Mr Smith in "College Algebra" during my freshman year at Westminster -- gave me these words to remember:
When confronted
with a statement
that seems true
for all positive integers
the wise student
uses mathematical induction
as her proof technique.
Mathematical language can heighten the imagery of a poem; mathematical structure can deepen its effect. Feast here on an international menu of poems made rich by mathematical ingredients . . . . . . . gathered by JoAnne Growney. To receive email notifications of new postings, contact JoAnne at joannegrowney@gmail.com.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Bridges in Coimbra
Newton's binomial is as beautiful as Venus de Milo.
What happens is that few people notice it.
-- Fernando Pessoa (as Álvaro de Campos) (1888-1935)
translated from the Portuguese by Francisco Craveiro
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Little Infinite Poem
Little Infinite Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca
For Luis Cardoza y Aragón
To take the wrong road
is to arrive at the snow,
and to arrive at the snow
is to get down on all fours for twenty centuries and eat
the grasses of the cemeteries.
For Luis Cardoza y Aragón
To take the wrong road
is to arrive at the snow,
and to arrive at the snow
is to get down on all fours for twenty centuries and eat
the grasses of the cemeteries.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The wind, counting
Who can ever forget
listening to the wind go by
counting its money
and throwing it away?
listening to the wind go by
counting its money
and throwing it away?
Monday, July 18, 2011
Finding a square root
Here is an old poem (1849) by George Van Waters that offers instruction on finding a square root. This process was part of my junior high learning at the Keith School in Indiana, PA lots of years ago but I suppose the algorithm is seldom taught in 21st century classrooms. (In case the poem's directions are unclear, additional instruction is offered here.)
Friday, July 15, 2011
I have dreamed geometry
Descartes by Jorge Luis Borges
I am the only man on earth, but perhaps there is neither earth nor man.
Perhaps a god is deceiving me.
Perhaps a god has sentenced me to time, that lasting illusion.
I dream the moon and I dream my eyes perceiving the moon.
I have dreamed the morning and evening of the first day.
I am the only man on earth, but perhaps there is neither earth nor man.
Perhaps a god is deceiving me.
Perhaps a god has sentenced me to time, that lasting illusion.
I dream the moon and I dream my eyes perceiving the moon.
I have dreamed the morning and evening of the first day.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Seeking a universal language
Is mathematics a universal language? Not only is this universality often postulated but also it was said -- some decades back -- that devices were broadcasting into space the intial decimal digits of pi, expecting that other intelligent beings would surely recognize the sequence of digits. Robert Gethner examines this arrogance in a poem.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Ancestry -- what counts
Etheridge Knight began writing poetry while an inmate at the Indiana State Prison and published his first collection, Poems from Prison, in 1968. His poem "The Idea of Ancestry" shows us what a man in prison finds time to count:
The Idea of Ancestry by Etheridge Knight
1
Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare
across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know
their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,
they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.
The Idea of Ancestry by Etheridge Knight
1
Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare
across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know
their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,
they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Mathematicians at work
About her collecton, The Scottish Café (Slapering Hol Press, 2002), Susan Case offers this note:
This series of poems is loosely based upon the experiences of the mathematicians of the Scottish Café, who lived and worked in Lvov, Poland (now L'viv, Ukraine), a center of Eastern European intellectual life before World War II, close to the area from which my own ancestors emigrated to the United States. A book, known as the Scottish Book, was kept in the Café and used to write down some of their problems and solutions. Whoever offered a proof might be awarded a prize.
Here is "Fixed Points," the opening poem from Case's collection:
This series of poems is loosely based upon the experiences of the mathematicians of the Scottish Café, who lived and worked in Lvov, Poland (now L'viv, Ukraine), a center of Eastern European intellectual life before World War II, close to the area from which my own ancestors emigrated to the United States. A book, known as the Scottish Book, was kept in the Café and used to write down some of their problems and solutions. Whoever offered a proof might be awarded a prize.
Here is "Fixed Points," the opening poem from Case's collection:
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Mathematicians divide
One of my fine graduate courses at Hunter College was a "World Poetry" course taught by William Pitt Root. One of our texts was Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness (W W Norton, 1993), edited by Carolyn Forché. In this collection is found "To Myself," a poem that confronts fear, by Abba Kovner (1818-1987), a hero of anti-Nazi resistance. Kovner dares to open the poem with the word "Mathematicians."