Martian Sunset - from Pathfinder

Poetry for the Sciences

This is the Tale of Frederick Wermyss
Whose Parents weren't on speaking terms.
So when Fred wrote to Santa Claus
It was in duplicate because
One went to Dad and one to Mum-
Both asked for some Plutonium.
See the result: Father and Mother-
Without Consulting one another-
Purchased two Lumps of Largish Size,
Intending them as a Surprise,
Which met in Fredericks's Stocking and
Laid level Ten square Miles of Land.

- From New Statesman and Nation (London) Jan 14, 1950.
In refference to critical mass.

Well up beyond the tropostrata
There is a region stark and stellar
Where, on a streak of anti-matter,
Lived Dr Edward Anti-Teller.

Remote from Fusion's origin,
He lived unguessed and unawares
With all his anti-kith and kin,
And kept macassars on his chairs.

One morning, idling by the sea,
he spied a tin of monstrous girth
That bore three letters: A. E. C.
Out stepped a visitor from Earth.

Then, shouting gladly o'er the sands,
Met two who in their alien ways
Were like as lentils. Their right hands
Clasped, and the rest was gamma rays.

- From The New Yorker 10 November 1956.
In refference to Dr. Edward Teller's theories on anti-matter

Three jolly sailors from Blaydon-on-Tyne
They went to sea in a bottle by Klein.
Since the sea was entirely inside the hull
The scenery seen was exceedingly dull.

- From The Space Child's Mother Goose, verse by
Fredrick Winsor. (New York Simon and Schuster) 1958.
In refference to the Klein bottle.

Little Willie, full of glee,
Put radium in Grandma's tea.
Now he thinks it quite a lark
To see her shining in the dark.

- Little Willie, (New York: Doubleday) 1953.

O Roentgen, then the news is true
And not a trick of idle rumour
That bids us each beware of you
And of your grim and graveyard humour.

We do not want, like Dr Swift
To take our flesh off and to pose in
Our bones, or show each little rift
And joint for you to poke your nose in.

We only crave to contemplate
Each other's usual full dress photo;
Your worse than 'altogether' state
Of portaiture we bar in toto!

The fondest swain would scarcely prize
A picture of his lady's framework;
To gaze on this with yearning eyes
Would probably be rated tame work.

No, keep them for your epitaph
These tombstone souvenirs unpleasant;
Or go away and photograph
Mahatmas, spooks and Mrs Besant.

- From Scientific American February 22, 1896

In Refference to the possability of photographing the human skeleton using X-Rays. The Mrs Besant of the poem was a prominent English theosophist (spiritualist) of 1896.

Twinkle, twinkle, pulsing star
Newest puzzle from afar.
Beeping on and on you sing-
Are you saying anything?
Twinkle, twinkle more, pulsar,
How I wonder what you are.

- From Physics Today 22 (1969) Written by Jay M Psachoff

This page is in it's earliest stages. As of now, most of the poetry was gathered from A random walk in science Crane, Russak & Company, Inc. 1973

© 1997, 1998, 1999

John Pile : johnpile@geocities.com

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