Pining for Pi

Oh how may a speak

Of the beauty of pi?

Its uses not bleak

But abound to the sky.

 

Irrational digit

I cannot escape

To calculate widgets

Of circular shape.

 

A mere estimation

Three point one four

But to my exclamation

You’re so much much more.

 

Pi, you’re so tasty

I’ll take any flavor

But not be too hasty

The pumpkin I’ll savor.

Riddle Me This

To me you speak and from me you hear
voices traveling from far and near
You poke me and prod me, I don't complain
I'm not alive and so must abstain
Bought with gold, you pay to keep me live
-without me you could not survive
You come when I call, who's master now?
If only I could I would take a bow.

What am I?

Fireside Poem

Raise me to thy throne, Oh God
and let me see thy face
let me know thy love divine
and feel thy kind embrace

Help me heal my brother, God
to raise him from his pain
to bring to him thy love divine
and find solace in thy name

Help me speak kindly God
and treat all near me well
that our souls might fill with love
and we'll raise our children well

Oh dear mine hair doth grow a frightening mess.

It looks like blind men tried to fashion it.

I cannot mask it even with my dress.

Yanking and pulling, I'm now in a fit.

Alas it is for naught to work this day.

How I wish I could change this wretched hair.

Perhaps I'll cover it with a berret.

I want to pull it out, but do I dare?

I'll cut that which doth give me much pain.

The times I fret over my hair is past!

No time to think if I am insane.

At last I raise the blade and swipe it fast.

This boyish look doth please mine eye to play.

I art most beauteous this day!

What am I supposed to do with such a lengthy break?

Wasting time here makes me ache.

I am bored and have nothing to say 

For I just sit and watch time pass away.

A new thought now,

without any rhyme schemes or rhythm patterns.

I write only because I am told to.

Yet perhaps I am compelled to write,

simply filling the void of thought with brainless actions.

It is time to fill that void with something more productive than poems.

17 hours of Whack-a-mole anyone?  Anyone?

Anyone.

Or we could prepare ourselves for the new semester

For planning makes my joy bubble and fester.

My schedule looks so nice and neat.

Yet somehow it's still incomplete.

Where are the assignments that fill my life?

For I find no life when there is no strife.

And now the end is drawing near.

We hope you will be a dear,

and always tolerate our pointless words,

Remember to always feed the birds.

Today I have no inspiration

For which to write a poem.

I feel no sensation.

This surely is a problem.

I want to write something witty

But nothing comes to mind.

Surly I am one to pity.

My life remains undefined.

Yesterday is history.

Tomorrow is a mystery.

But today is a gift...

That is why it is called the present.

-Master Ugway

(Kung Fu Panda)

Naps

Oh the power of a nap,

They just rejuvenate you in a snap!

And though a few mintues is the cost of this bliss,

those are a few mintues I am sure not to miss.

But still a problem comes, that you can surmise,

From them, I can just never get the will to arise!

My Perfect Prince

Do you ever wish
when the moon is full
that your future prince charming
will be monotonous and dull?
Do you hope he'll have 7 hairy fingers and 21 chunky toes
and a contagious fungus growing on his nose?
Have you said to yourself: self, do you know what I need?
I need my Prince to have a plump sluggish steed!
For who needs to ride off into a golden apple sunset?
The man I find will be colorblind I bet
I want a man with hair the color of muddy rain
and a smile that proclaims to the world: "I'm completely insane!"
Do you ever say, I hope he has a beard grown out to his knees
and if it's possible, could he have 4 double chins please?
Many men have come and gone with the hopes of being the one
when I see them I shout "Get out!" and go to fetch my gun
Some day, I have confidence that he will come
until then I examine my thumb.........

I sat reading poetry on my iPod,

While my son played in the mud.

Perhaps I should plant some sod,

For having only brown dirt is a dud.