If you are a frequent visitor to this blog, you know that Polish Nobelist (1996) Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012) is one of my favorite poets. My Romanian friend Doru Radu, who now lives in Poland, visited New York recently and during my visit with him there he surprised me with a gift -- a posthumous bilingual Szymborska collection, Enough (Wydawnictwo a5, translated by Clare Cavanagh). Here is the English version of a small poem with numbers from that collection:
Hand
Twenty seven bones,
thirty five muscles,
around two thousand nerve cells
in every tip of all five fingers.
It's more than enough
to write "Mein Kampf"
or "Pooh Corner."
Links to additional postings of Szymborska's work may be found here.
Remember also to visit the wonderful Spring 2016 issue of TalkingWriting -- with its smorgasbord of mathy poems.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Remembering Reza Sarhangi
In 1998 at Southwestern College in Winfield, KS an Iranian mathematician, Reza Sarhangi, organized the first of a series of annual Bridges conferences that celebrate the intersection of mathematics and the arts. On July 1, 2016, this vital mathematician-artist passed away. Many will celebrate the life of this warm and generous and talented man.
where you can learn a bit about Reza Sarhangi and about this year's conference in Finland.
Here is a link to an article by Sarhangi on Persian art -- indeed, it includes a poem.
Sarhangi was at the time of his death, a professor at Towson University.
Here is a link to his informative Towson webpage which I hope the university will keep alive.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
What Math Teachers Do
They ignore me. I
raise my hand -- wave it
to ask questions, to
offer answers -- but
they call on the boys.
raise my hand -- wave it
to ask questions, to
offer answers -- but
they call on the boys.
A 5x5 syllable-square of protest, from JoAnne Growney
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Revolutions and singularities
Early in June it was my privilege to hear poet Lesley Wheeler read as part of the Joaquin Miller Poetry Series on summer Sundays in Washington, DC's Rock Creek Park. Lesley read from her wonderful 2015 collection, Radioland, in which I found this mathy sonnet, a poem of twists and singularities and rich with double meanings:
Concentric Grooves, 1983 by Lesley Wheeler
Every whorl in the floorboard spins clockwise,
the grain widening round the stain, a stream
of years circling a burn-brown knot. Strum
and crackly gap. Music drowns a wheeze
Concentric Grooves, 1983 by Lesley Wheeler
Every whorl in the floorboard spins clockwise,
the grain widening round the stain, a stream
of years circling a burn-brown knot. Strum
and crackly gap. Music drowns a wheeze
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Important online sources for mathy poems
Every issue of the Journal of Humanistic Mathematics contains poetry.
The Spring 2016 issue of TalkingWriting has more than a score of mathy poems.
This blog has offered math-linked poetry online since 2010, now with over 800 posts. Scroll down to browse OR use the SEARCH box to look for poems with a particular mathematical image. The lower right-hand-column offers key-words that can be useful search terms.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Exponential power
From this week's New Yorker (June 27, 2016) from a poem by Maya Ribault entitled "Society of Butterflies" this mathy statement:
. . . I save
for retirement—to my bohemian eyes,
a fortune—though they say you need more
than a million. Immerse yourself in the exponential
power of dividends. . . .
Read the entire poem here.
. . . I save
for retirement—to my bohemian eyes,
a fortune—though they say you need more
than a million. Immerse yourself in the exponential
power of dividends. . . .
Read the entire poem here.
Labels:
dividend,
exponential,
Maya Ribault,
New Yorker,
power
Thursday, June 23, 2016
A sonnet with numbers
Sonnet: Now I see them by Michael Palmer
Now I see them sitting me before a mirror.
There’s noise and laughter. Somebody
mentions that hearing is silver
before we move on to Table One
with the random numbers. I look down
a long street containing numbers.
Now I see them sitting me before a mirror.
There’s noise and laughter. Somebody
mentions that hearing is silver
before we move on to Table One
with the random numbers. I look down
a long street containing numbers.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Wanting things proportional . . .
Here is a reflective poem by San Diego poet Ben Doller (found also at Poets.org and included here with permission of the poet).
Proportion by Ben Doller
Just want things
proportional.
Just things,
not all.
Not kings, kings
should be below:
Proportion by Ben Doller
Just want things
proportional.
Just things,
not all.
Not kings, kings
should be below:
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Women occupy mathematics
Poems thrive on imagery created from specific (rather than vague) details -- and numbers and other math terms are very specific! Below I present several samples of mathematical imagery in poems from an excellent and important recent anthology Raising Lilly Ledbetter: Women Poets Occupy the Workspace.
Here are the opening lines of "Circle of Silence" by Stacey K. Vargas:
Like an electron trapped in an unstable orbit, I am seated
in a circle of powerful men.
In an awkward moment small talk ends
and the meeting abruptly begins.
The superintendent turns to me and says,
"This was not sexual harassment."
And the opening lines of "The Typist" by Barbara Drake:
I made 87 1/2 cents an hour typing,
when I was a college student.
Here are the opening lines of "Circle of Silence" by Stacey K. Vargas:
Like an electron trapped in an unstable orbit, I am seated
in a circle of powerful men.
In an awkward moment small talk ends
and the meeting abruptly begins.
The superintendent turns to me and says,
"This was not sexual harassment."
And the opening lines of "The Typist" by Barbara Drake:
I made 87 1/2 cents an hour typing,
when I was a college student.
Monday, June 13, 2016
When parallel lines meet, that is LOVE
Bernadette Turner teaches mathematics at Lincoln University in Missouri. And, via a long-ago email (lost for a while, and then found) she has offered this love poem enlivened by the terminology of geometry.
Parallel Lines Joined Forever by Bernadette Turner
We started out as just two parallel lines
in the plane of life.
I noticed your good points from afar,
but always kept same distance.
I assumed that you had not noticed me at all.
Parallel Lines Joined Forever by Bernadette Turner
We started out as just two parallel lines
in the plane of life.
I noticed your good points from afar,
but always kept same distance.
I assumed that you had not noticed me at all.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Symbols shape our thoughts
In mathematics -- as in spoken languages -- we have learned to use symbols to shape our thoughts. Pioneering artist Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) carefully expresses this important idea in terms of chess.
“The chess pieces are the block alphabet
which shapes thoughts; and these thoughts, although
making a visual design on the chess-board,
express their beauty abstractly, like a poem...
I have come to the personal conclusion
that while all artists are not chess players,
all chess players are artists.”
During these days of celebration of the life of Muhammad Ali (1942-2016) I have refreshed my memory of his notable quotes (many of which are found here). Here is one with some numbers:
“The chess pieces are the block alphabet
which shapes thoughts; and these thoughts, although
making a visual design on the chess-board,
express their beauty abstractly, like a poem...
I have come to the personal conclusion
that while all artists are not chess players,
all chess players are artists.”
―Marcel Duchamp
This and other stimulating statements from Duchamp are available here.
During these days of celebration of the life of Muhammad Ali (1942-2016) I have refreshed my memory of his notable quotes (many of which are found here). Here is one with some numbers:
A man who views the world
the same at 50
as he did at 20
has wasted 30 years of his life.
Labels:
alphabet,
artist,
chess,
Marcel Duchamp,
Muhammad Ali
Monday, June 6, 2016
A poem, a contradiction . . .
One strategy for proving a mathematical theorem is a "proof by contradiction." In such a proof one begins by supposing the opposite of what is to be proved -- and then reasons logically to obtain a statement that contradicts a known truth. This contradiction verifies that our opposite-assumption was wrong and that our original statement-to-be-proved is indeed correct. (An easily-read introduction to "proof-by-contradiction" is given here.)
Peggy Shumaker is an Alaskan poet whom I had the pleasure of meeting at a reading at Bloomsburg University where I was a math professor a few years ago. Her poem, "What to Count On," below, has a beautiful surprise after a sequence of negations -- and reminds me of the structure of a proof-by-contradiction.
What to Count On by Peggy Shumaker
Not one star, not even the half moon
on the night you were born
Not the flash of salmon
nor ridges on blue snow
Not the flicker of raven’s
never-still eye
Peggy Shumaker is an Alaskan poet whom I had the pleasure of meeting at a reading at Bloomsburg University where I was a math professor a few years ago. Her poem, "What to Count On," below, has a beautiful surprise after a sequence of negations -- and reminds me of the structure of a proof-by-contradiction.
What to Count On by Peggy Shumaker
Not one star, not even the half moon
on the night you were born
Not the flash of salmon
nor ridges on blue snow
Not the flicker of raven’s
never-still eye
Labels:
Alaska,
arc,
contradiction,
count,
Peggy Shumaker,
proof
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Aesop's fables in verse ... the price of greed ...
The farmhouse* in which I grew up had a room we called "The Library" because of its small bookshelf with my father's books -- including selections from Kipling and Twain and Aesop's Fables. I liked to read. And a lot of the morals are now stored in my head. Recently I have found and enjoyed poetry versions of some of these in Jean de La Fontaine's Selected Fables (Dover, 2000) -- see also Project Gutenberg. Here is one about the mathematics of greed ... .
The Hen with the Golden Eggs by Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695)
An olden maxim, which expresses
How Avarice, in search of gain,
May lose the hoard that it possesses.
The Hen with the Golden Eggs by Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695)
translated by Walter Thornbury
My little story will explainAn olden maxim, which expresses
How Avarice, in search of gain,
May lose the hoard that it possesses.
Labels:
Aesop,
fable,
greed,
Jean de La Fontaine,
Walter Thornbury
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Mathy poems OUT LOUD
Here is a link to "Applied Mathematics" written and recited by London poet Dan Simpson. This link leads to several math-arts samples (including two poems -- the first is by Gizem Karaali and you may scroll down to hear my poem, "A Taste of Mathematics") recorded by Samuel Hansen. (The complete text of "A Taste of Mathematics" is available here.) This link connects to information about a 2014 YouTube video featuring a varied list of mathy poets.
Labels:
Dan Simpson,
Gizem Karali,
JoAnne Growney,
Samuel Hansen,
YouTube
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
The Man Who Knew Infinity
A few days ago I followed a broken link on the Poetry Foundation website and the site offered me this cryptic quatrain by American poet J. V. Cunningham (1911-1985) -- it is the final stanza of a poem I have posted here.
Error is boundless.
Nor hope nor doubt,
Though both be groundless,
Will average out.
– J.V. Cunningham, from “Meditation on Statistical Method”
Often on my mind these recent days has been the film I saw last week -- "The Man Who Knew Infinity" -- and I invite you to follow these links to poetry concerning its central characters, mathematicians Srinivasa Ramanujan (1887-1920) and G. H. Hardy (1877-1947).
Error is boundless.
Nor hope nor doubt,
Though both be groundless,
Will average out.
– J.V. Cunningham, from “Meditation on Statistical Method”
Often on my mind these recent days has been the film I saw last week -- "The Man Who Knew Infinity" -- and I invite you to follow these links to poetry concerning its central characters, mathematicians Srinivasa Ramanujan (1887-1920) and G. H. Hardy (1877-1947).
Labels:
G H Hardy,
J.V. Cunningham,
Srinivasa Ramanujan
Friday, May 20, 2016
In Wyalusing, counting pelicans
The number in the title of Robin Chapman's poem first attracted me to it and the mention of Wyalusing in the first line drew me further in -- for Wyalusing is the name of a small town in northeastern Pennsylvania (a region in which I lived and taught -- at Bloomsburg University -- for many years). But, of course, Google was able to tell me of another Wyalusing, a park in Wisconsin, home state of the poet, and a place advertised as having plentiful bird-watching. Enjoy:
One Hundred White Pelicans by Robin Chapman
Over Wyalusing, riding thermals, they shine
and disappear, vanish like thought,
re-emerge stacked, stretched,
a drifting fireworks' burst.
One Hundred White Pelicans by Robin Chapman
Over Wyalusing, riding thermals, they shine
and disappear, vanish like thought,
re-emerge stacked, stretched,
a drifting fireworks' burst.
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