04 The Real Theory Of Relativity Poem by Lori Boulard
04 The Real Theory Of Relativity
In the hours before dawn I like to eavesdrop.
Muffled by their worn leather bindings,
the writers converse-
Shakespeare pleads a play
Marx will have none of it
Confucius murmurs a truce, lost
amid the gossip in Periodicals.
Unencumbered by weather or phases
of moon, hypotheses and antitheses
bounce and rebound
off the cold, flat walls next to the stairs.
Morning lifts a hand, hushing
their voices into proper behavior.
'I hear that poet has a new one out, '
whispers Wordsworth, drifting off to sleep.
Einstein rises from his slouch in the corner.
'New is relative.'
What, no mention of E=mc Hammer? Who? Seriously though, here's something into which one is able to sink the ole mental masticators. Just the way I like 'em. Are we talkin' the general or special theory? At any rate, my mendulla oblongata is throbbin' now. Hail, hail, the ganglia's all here!
Lori, great scene development and visual images. Really interesting with a great ending... relatively speaking, of course. Awesome poem! ! Brian
a sharp piece of writing, Lori. clever, ironic, very fresh in what it's saying. i'm glad i spotted this and hope to read more of your poems here.
Lovely piece. A unusual meeting of the poets, seen in your own way. A pleasure to read this. Love Ernestine XXX
Enjoyed this. Very creative and unique, with a fitting ending. -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 6:33:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Thanks for drawing all these characters together in one place, Lori, and for allowing us to listen to their random, characteristic ramblings. A highly enjoyable piece of writing. Regards to you, Lori.