MathPoems

Mathematical Poetry
A special collection by Alisha Erin Heavilon
2001 - 2002

Passion About Math

Oh, second year Algebra!
A plague upon my soul!
Anything - anything!
to save me from
that hole of bitterness!
Counting down the minutes-
49...48...47...
...46 and a half...
Oh, when will the bell ring?

Classroom Time

Tapping your pencil
On the fake wooden desk.
Writing notes to friends,
Staring at the clock.
Whispers to a neighbor,
Planning for the weekend,
Sleeping on your books.
All to make the time pass faster
In dreaded Algebra II.

But nothing works.

Grading Algebra Homework

Everything off your desk,
But take your homework out,
I'm passing out red grading pens,
(Don't call them seventh grader to my face.)
Check your homework,
Turn it in,
And get ready for another quiz.

Algebra Alliteration

Heaven help the wanderer,
Who winds his way,
Into our weary world,
While we wait and wish,
Wondering when we will be free.

Algebra II, Third Hour

The pounding, pounding in my head,
The screaming torrent in my mind.
Make this raging madness end-
There is no other peace to find!
Let me breathe! and let me live!
Don't condem me to this hated hole!
Rescue me from this abyss-
It's sucking out my soul.

My Name Is Alisha

My name is Alisha,
I'm sitting in class-
It's all about Algebra;
It's a Nazi with gas.
Every morning I come here,
Though it's not what I want,
I dread every visit,
It's my most hated haunt.
I shriek and I scream
Inside, in my head,
"Don't make me go there!
I'd rather be dead!"
But still I'm kept coming,
It's my ill-fated lot.
Whoever invented this Algebra
Ought to be shot.

Sail Away

a parody of the song "Sail Away"

Sail away, away from this Algebra!
Far off from misery!
There is something safe that's not Algebra,
And it's calling to me.

I woke up this morning like so many others,
I drove to my school feeling glum.
I arrived there quite early with Ash and Malinda,
A new day again has begun.

Sail away, away from this Algebra!
Far off from misery!
There is something safe that's not Algebra,
And it's calling to me.

Now I'm sitting here sadly, with nothing to help me,
And I'm trapped in this class for an hour.
And all that I want is a minor disaster
Or intervention by some divine power.

Sail away, away from this Algebra!
Far off from misery!
There is something safe that's not Algebra,
And it's calling to me.

And it's calling to me.

Unrequited Love

Unrequited love
'Tis such a sad,
Ill-fated thing.
While every day
I see my dreaded
Algebra II teacher
Enjoying and adoring
The amazing student
That I am-
I sit and count
The slow passing minutes
And wish to be
Somewhere else.
'Tis such a sad,
Ill-fated thing.
In English it's the same.

Worksheets

Last week's math was a chaos,
First with the ISTEPers taking their tests;
And on Tuesday the Twin Towers fell in New York;
And on Thursday I was in the ER.
Friday I spent in a wheelchair-
But they still made me go to the class,
And all the while we did worksheets.
Worksheets, and worksheets, and then we did more.
Have I mentioned how many we did?
But all that was last week,
And today we're back to the norm-
Grade homework, take tests, and do book work.
And all that I wish is for just ONE worksheet...
But this time...without the disasters.

Sweet Oblivion From Algebra

The only way to survive
This torture of fifty minutes,
Is to sell a candy bar to yourself,
In hopes that the sweet chocolate
Will bring your mind to oblivion,
And steal you away from this horror.
But I think it will take more than one.

A Student In Algebra

Hello...
Someone needs help here.
So how do you know
What this thingy is?
Well, how do you?
I don't know how to do it.
How do you know what it is?
What?
So this...this is a...?
Well that's dumb.
Dang pen.
Dang pen.
Start working before I bite you.
You don't understand what you're talking about anyways.
You make me what to cry.
You make me feel bad.
I need help.
Ok.
So the answer is...
Four.

for Becky; from her personal discourses while recieving help in class from Heather

Heather's Graph Paper

I just heard the strangest word,
In Algebra today.
It wasn't time to leave (and how I grieved)
But someone shouted, "Yay!"
I looked at her in horror,
And I stared at her in shock,
She sinned the greatest sin of all-
My heart fell like a rock.
She was glad to hear we'd have to graph
On our homework assignments today,
And as she smiled and clapped her hands
My face turned slowly gray.

Unprepared For Algebra II

I need a piece of paper,
I can't do my math work,
My teacher's staring straight at me,
I do not dare to shirk!
Becky, lend some paper!
I'll need a pencil too!
What's my name, and what's the date,
And the answer for number two?

ode to graphing
by Becky Korty

I color on my fingers
I color on the wall
I color in my book
But I never do them all

Princess Algebra
by Heather Allen

She loathes the subject
But yet she is the best.
She writes instead of works.
She is the best at what she does.
But she loathes it all.

The Subsitute.

No more can we endure this
Hardship that won't pass,
It's robbing us of breath,
And we understand, at last,
That what we have on normal days
Is really not so bad.
If only I had known before,
I could've been so glad!
Yet now I suffer in this hole,
Relief is distant for this POW...
Oh, give us back our dear Miss Berke
You evil, heinous cow!

Scum of the Earth

The scum of the earth
That is dredged from below
Is transforming and changing,
And starting to grow.
No longer the chains
Of the darkness are weak-
But seeking new chaos
And havoc to wreak.
O how cry the suff'rers,
Losing hope at the last
Of ever escaping
This Algebra class.

You Know You've Been In Algebra II Too Long When...

- your calculator has bite marks on it
- your pencil eraser starts to taste good
- you call your teacher by his or her first name
- you teacher comes to your desk to help you before you even ask for help
- you've mastered the free-time mind puzzles
- you write poetry about Algebra
- going to gym actually sounds like fun
- no one expects you to get your homework done
- you can predict which outfit your teacher will wear each day
-the 7th grader stories stop being funny
- you plot ways to escape through the ventilation system
- you think of hanging yourself from the blinds
- your imaginary numbers talk to you
- you illustrate your math assignments
- you actually work in class
- you stop goofing off and listen instead
- you actually do your homework in class, and the bell rings before you can finish

...a bit of Biology...

The Alimentary Canal
By: Alisha Heavilon, Becky Korty, Heather Allen, and Mr. Johnson

Into the mouth the yummy food golus,
And is formed by the tongue into a big bolus!
Down the esophaus, past the closed epiglottis,
Into the stomach with whole lot mucus!
Juices and pepsin join into the froth,
All mixed together, they make a great broth!
Churning and churning, and then the appearance
Of the pyloric sphincter, giving chyme clearance!
Now into the duodenum, it's time to absorb!
With help from the liver, that's shaped like a gourd!
The pancreas decreases the acid amount,
And chyme's tickled by villi - too many to count!
After the cecum, the colon sucks out some water,
And the appendix does nothing, it simply won't bother.
The feces are left; they're stored in the rectum,
Out through the anus, the toilet collects 'em!

Second Hour With Mr. Johnson
By: Alisha Heavilon, Becky Korty, and Heather Allen

Every morning, at precisely nine ten,
We're back for some Bio 2 classics,
Like the placement of the poop de jour
Of Mr. Johnson's cute kitty named Alex.
We also hear lots about his drunken, hick neighbors,
And when he's had cat fur on his butt.
He tells us about his stoned, deadbeat cousin
Who lives in a barn: he's a nut.
He shows us his awesome, interesting movies,
And complains when his website is down,
He tells us about his shopping adventures
Whenever he goes into town.
He's had popurri all over the bathroom floor,
And smashed the drive of his CD-rom,
He always goes racing on his computer at home
Except when he gets a call from his mom.
Kangaroos are his favorite animal,
And he really loves Chocolate Spice,
He doesn't hate anyone-
He's just not always nice.
He coaches crosscountry,
And he's really fast.
So when are we getting
To the point of this class?

Lung Volume
By: Alisha Heavilon, Cassie Ream, and Amie Mullikin

Tidal volume is an average breath,
That keeps us alive and far off from death.
We inhale and exhale, normal and quiet,
The pons and medulla are all that require it.

The vital capacity is the maximum air,
That can be forced into the lungs with no room to spare.
When doing hard work, this forced breathing is handy
While walking, or running, or just eating candy!

The residual volume is the air that remains,
Without it, your lungs would collapse with great pains.
You cannot get rid of it; it won't go away,
And that is why we're all here today.

How We Breathe
By: Alisha Heavilon and Cassie Ream

Vascularized invaginations; the lungs are how mammals breathe,
It's where O₂ enters the blood, and CO₂ gets to leave.
It starts in the nostrils, where air's filtered by hair,
Then the pharynx, and glottis, and larynx down there.
Through the wonderful trachea that's completely cartilage-lined,
Then the bronchiand bronchioles - they're all you can find.
The dead-end of the lungs are the small alveoli,
And then into the blood the O₂ must fly.
It's taken to cells, in exchange for their wastes,
'Cause keeping that garbage appeals to nobody's tastes.
Then the carbon dioxide is transformed into bicarbonate ions,
And back in the blood they crazily fly on.
Back at the lungs the carbon dioxide has to move down,
The concentration gradient and diffuse all around.
Then it's exhaled with a happy, little sigh;
If we didn't all do this, then we would die.

/ Writing /