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Isotopes - Elementary Cloning!

There are not many poems on scientific themes which is a pity. When i was a Lecturer in Science I wrote some poems in 'sonnet form' to better enable my students to understand Scientific Terms and Principles. Atomic Structure and Isotopes - is a difficult topic so i wrote this poem to make it a little more accessible. The poetic discipline of the sonnet imposes certain linguistic constraints:

1. Each line has to have ten syllables
2. Each line has to make sense
3. each verse has to be self contained in fourteen lines.

Chemical Elements are nature's tools
From them everything physical is formed
From Hydrogen through to Uranium
The ninety-two natural elements.
They all consist of the same building blocks.
These are Protons, Electrons and Neutrons.
Eah successive element has one more..........
Proton (positive) balanced by one more............
Electron (negative) and variable..............
Numbers of Neutrons producing Isotopes.
Carbon - The most important element
Has six Protons - also six electrons.
Carbon-12 also contains six Neutrons
Carbon-14 has eight neutrons - SIMPLE!

Isotopes are forms of the same element.
We always had a problem with Chlorine
Its Atomic Mass was thirty-five point-five
Insread of being a nice whole number!
The Mass Spectrometer has shown us why.
Chlorine has two isotopes - thirty-five
And thirty-seven in precise ratio
Three to one - thirty-five point-five - SIMPLE!
Isotopes are nature's generous bonus.
Radioactive isotopes cure cancer
Monitor pollution and control processes.
Carbon-14 enables us to study
Biosynthetic pathways in plant life.
Daily we find new uses for isotopes.

Scientific words can cause difficulty.
The names of all the Chemical Elements
Have very interesting origins!
Helium named from the Sun - HELIOS,
Chlorine from its colour - CHLOROS - yellow
Uranium form the planet - URANUS.
But why ISOTOPE - it seems an odd word?
All Scientists study Latin and Greek.
Isotopes of an element occupy............
The same place in the Periodic Table.
The Greek for 'same place' is ISO - TOPES,
That is how we name Scientific Terms!
EXO - THERMIC means giving out some heat
ENDO - THERMIC means taking in - SIMPLE!
John Knight

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Alankar(Decor) -165

Was I Born With.....(Echo Sonnet)
The Echo Sonnet is:
a quatorzain made up 3 quatrains followed by a couplet.
metric, iambic pentameter.
rhymed with a double refrain. A1bbA2 accA2 addA2 A1A2.
composed without pivot. Because of the double refrain, the poem seems to be revolving, ending where it started.

Was I Born With....

Was I born with a goal to win in mind
Like those gifted beings that race and goal
No, no child is ever born with a goal
Nor on death can I seek one in dark blind

Birth to death this life runs in untold kind
Where and when it will end its role who knows
My goal- not this game of mystery-shows
Nor on death can I seek one in dark blind

Life and death- who the causer? asks my mind
Does my grey soul that ceaseless toll for Him
For this birth I have no great goal to aim
Nor on death can I seek one in dark blind

Was I born with a goal to win in mind
Nor on death can I seek one in dark blind
Indira Renganathan

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After The Poet's Death

His poems refuse
to mourn his passing, they
detach themselves from
books, magazines, wall hangings
and float freely
in the fair summer air.

Their refusal to mourn is
steadfast. 'He's just changed
his address, ' one of his
first poems says to the new
lyrics. 'He's done this before,
searching for a better place to live.'

'And we always go with him, '
pipes a small poem, barely
audible, maybe not
completed, hardly a poem
at all. 'We are all of us
pieces of his soul, ' booms

the lordly Epic Poem
of 24 cantos. 'We must
catch up with him, restore
his soul to wholeness, then
together, all of our words
linked, all of our sentences

looped around each other,
we will be the ONE POEM
he always claimed
to be writing.' Murmurs
of approval for Epic's speech
crescendoed over the meadow,

into a harmony of voices that
was almost musical. 'Excuse me,
oh, pardon me.' From way in back
where the sequence poems
had clustered, Sonnet XIV
was coming forward. He

squeezed through a group
of illustrated narrative poems,
and eased himself past
the pastoral poems, reclining
on the yellow-green lawn.
Lacking the familiar support

of sonnets XIII and XV,
XIV was unsure of himself.
Epic graciously steadied him,
and introduced him to the assembly,
'Dear friends, ' he began softly,
'we sonnets were with him for hours

yesterday. He was reading
us to his three children. It was
the happiest afternoon! He read
sonnets by the two Rossetti's, brother
and sister, his favorites. Then,
just as the sun dipped and lights came on,

something happened. He suddenly
collapsed.' XIV breathed deeply.
'We watched as two of his childen
covered his face with a blanket.'
For a long moment, it was
just the green air of summer.

Then an immense cry
sliced the greenness, and it bled
grief over all the poems.
The Elegies, whose gray eyes
had held little hope, were
comforted by a volume of

haiku. Pairs of Love Poems
embraced fiercely to crush
grief before it could
propagate. Drinking Songs from
the Chinese laughed harshly and
poured more wine. Wisdom Poems

fell into stunned silence. The other
sonnets joined XIV and they all
bowed their heads. A straggle of
Free Versers assembled, reciting
They sheltered the small poem, confused, bereft.

It was dusk but no shadows
obscured the outlines of trees,
bushes and flower patches. The sun
had withdrawn, but left behind was
a spiritual glow, suffusing all
with yellow-gold, an unasked for grace

welcomed nonetheless for beauty's sake.
A procession had quietly formed
on the furthest margin of the meadow.
Prose Poems, from his last published
work, carried and pushed a huge
covered arch. They were silent,

except for a choral hum, which other
poems joined as it gathered them
into the procession, making it more
spacious and resonant. A smiling Epic
and the sonnets understood suddenly
what was happening, and joined

the Prose Poems, who welcomed them.
Together, they braced the arch
and removed the cover. Cheering
resounded across the meadow. Then,
in perfect silence, the poems
crossed the threshold, and entered

the open arch. Sonnet XIV paused.
'You see, he is not dead. He
lives in all of us. We are his
life eternal.' Then he too
disappeared within, as did
every poem, quietly entering -

Daniel Brick

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Translations Sonnets Pour Hélène Pierre De Ronsard - Lovesick

Translations Sonnets pour Hélène Pierre de Ronsard - Lovesick


Help! Lovesick I am struck, ‘tis plain, I’m taken ill,
E’en hot and cold I blow, now hot and cold again.
Lift swift ice aches which snow, scald poor fired heart’s pores swill,
End pain - I've come unstuck - pour pomegranate grain.
Neat eyes which first though luck heart ambushed, reign instilled,
Extinguish love’s flame flow, dry icy, briny rain.
Live must I, yet can't, know Death spurns love's burns down drain
Although life's strong my doe, nought cures your glow, your will.
My Dear, believe me here for you I die, lie still,
Out sinew, nerve! Vain vein! No pulse may one sustain!
Unless in you they're lain, wild fever wracks the brain!
Real love's symbolic plain as pomegranate’s spill.
Jointly their seeds sufficient strength retain,
Rhyme, reason elsewhere one must seek in vain!

10 September 1987 revised 15 May 1989,26 September 1997 4 February 2009 robi3_0216_rons1_0005
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv

Je suis pour votre Amour diversement Malade

Je suis pour votre Amour diversement Malade
maintenant plein de froid, maintenant de chaleur;
dedans le coeur pour vous autant j’ai de doleurs
comme il y a de grains dedans votre grenade.
Yeux qui fistes sur moi la première embuscade,
désattisez ma flamme et désechez mes pleurs.
Il faut, vous me le pouvez, car le mal dont je meurs
est si grand qu’il ne peut se guérir d’une oeillade.

Ma dame, croyez-moi, je trépasse pour vous,
Je n’ai ni artère, nerf, tendon, veine ni pouls
qui ne sente d’amour la fièvre continue.
L’amour a la grenade en symbole était joint.
Ses grains en ont encore la force retenue,
que de signe et d’effet vous ne connaissez point.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv

Ice and Fire

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.

Edmund SPENSER 1552_1599 spen2_0004_rons1_0005
After Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv

Of Love

If Love it be not, what is this I feel?
If it be Love, what Love is, fain I'd know?
If good, why the effects severe and ill?
If bad, why do its torments please me so?
If willingly I burn, should I complain?
If 'gainst my will, what helps it to lament?
Oh living Death! oh most delightful pain!
How comes all this, if I do not consent?
If I consent, 'tis madness then to grieve;
Amidst these storms, in a weak boat I'm tost
Upon a dangerous sea, without relief,
No help from Reason, but in Error lost.
Which way in this distraction shall I turn,
That freeze in Summer, and in Winter burn?

In Imitation of the Italians 1687

After Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I xxxv
Philip AYRES 1638_1712


I See a Thousand Beauties

Here see I thousand beauties, yet none please,
Each freezes soul, none else my fancy frees.
Love, just your glance my senses can appease.
Enthralled - you’re all - Fate, Fortune Destinies.
New Love and Venus, God’s gift, His mercies,
Encleansing mind’s perverted fantasies.
Love, your virtues enflame my arteries
And send me soaring o’er the moon with ease.
My eye - save your eyes - nought consumes nor sees,
Others flicker, anger, and displease,
Used as it is to live by thy decrees,
Responding to unique, soft qualities.
Justice show, though I sin, starved for thee,
Remember the reason, - ‘tis Necessity!

14 September 1997 robi3_0556_rons1_0006
Pierre de RONSARD - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II XLIX

Je Vois Mille Beautés

Je vois mille beautés, et si n’en vois pas une
qui contente mes yeux, seule vous me plaisez.
Seule, quand je vous vois, mes sens vous appaisez.
Vous êtes mon destin, mon ciel et ma fortune.
Ma Vénus, mon Amour, ma charité, ma brune,
qui tous bas pensements de l’esprit me rasez,
et de hautes vertus l’estomac m’embrasez,
me soulevant de terre au cercle de la lune.

Mon oeil de vos regards goulument se repaist,
tout ce qui n’est pas vous lui fache et lui déplaît,
tant il a par usance accoutumé de vivre
de votre unique, douce, agréable beauté.
S’il pêche contre vous, affamé de vous suivre,
ce n’est de son bon gré, c’est par necessité.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II XLIX


She’s Winter Everywhere

All warmth withheld, she’s winter everywhere,
cold-hearted, icy, frozen hard fore’er,
caring alone for my sweet muse’s air.
Am I so mad? Why do I not despair?
What if her titles spring from great forebear,
they’re prison bars which but her soul ensnare.
My locks, Mistress, aren’t so snowy, spare,
another sweetheart could succeed, your heir.
O Cupid child heed truth: of pride, beware!
Beauty thou art, yet not beyond compare.
although lost youth I can’t recall, my Fair,
this faithful heart to scorn thus, ‘tis unfair.
So love me now despite my frosty hair,
as I for you when old would always care.

22 September 1987
Pierre de RONSARD - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book 1 44

Puisqu’elle est Tout Hiver

Puisqu’elle est tout hiver, toute la même glace,
Toute neige et son coeur tout armé de glaçons,
Qui ne m’aime sinon pour avoir mes chansons,
Pourquoi suis-je si fol, que je ne m’en délace?
De quoi me sert son nom, sa grandeur et sa race,
Que d’honnête servage et de belles prisons?
Maîtresse, je n’ai pas les cheveux si grisons
Qu’une autre de bon coeur ne prenne votre place.
Amour, qui est enfant, ne cèle vérité;
Vous n’êtes si superbe, ou si riche en beauté,
Qu’il faille dédaigner un bon coeur qui vous aime.
Rentrer en mon avril desormais je ne puis;
Aimez-moi, s’il vous plaît grison comme je suis,
Et je vous aimerai quand vous serez de même.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène I 44


Hence, from Nursing Mother

Hence wrench Love, pest, from wench’s breast, let go
Expedite to auction, take him, take!
Leave him with passing merchant ne’er to grow,
Expel him from my sight for Heaven’s sake!
No price for such an urchin seems too low,
Each tear attracts no bid to records break.
Leave off! You hear his tears! He’s heard me, so,
Anger past, find peace ‘spite my mistake.
My child I shall not sell you now, although
Over to Miss Hélène, her fond page to make, -
Unlike you’re not, like hair like eyes do glow,
Ressemblance perfect seems, a sly remake.
Joined both together grow, together play,
Repaid in time, my present pains allay.

24 September 1997 – rons1_0010
Pierre de RONSARD Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II LVIII

Qu’il me soit arraché des Tétins de sa Mère

Qu’il me soit arraché des tetins de sa mère,
ce jeune enfant Amour, et qu’il me soit vendu:
Il ne faut plus qu’il croisse; il m’a déjà perdu!
Vienne quelque marchand, je le mets à l’enchère.

D’un si mauvais garçon la vente n’est pas chère;
j’en ferai bon marché. Ah! - j’ai trop attendu.
Mais voyez comme il pleure! Il m’a bien entendu.
Appaise-toi mignon, j’ai passé ma colère.

Je ne te vendrai point; au contraire, je veux
pour gage t’envoyer à ma maîtresse Hélène,
qui toute te ressemble et des yeux, des cheveux.
Aussi fine que toi, de malice aussi pleine.
Comme enfants vous croîtrez et vous jouerez tous deux,
quand tu seras plus grand tu me payeras ma peine.

Pierre de RONSARD Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II LVIII


Dry Timber Blazes Bold

Here should the sage besotted, or the sot,
E’er read these lines and dare grey hairs to scold,
Love’s song swift snubbing just because I’m old, -
Even a cinder heap can keep heart hot!
New timber green, though blown, oft taketh not,
Easy all year dry timber blazes bold!
Lunar Diane ensilvered fleece does fold,
Aurora old Tithonus ne’er forgot!
My friend I shall not Plato imitate
Or pale become when Venus contemplate.
Unlike Icarus, Phaeton, - folly crowned -
Reader I’ll not their madness reinstate.
Judge! why should I such conduct recreate,
Refuse I these, yet my heart breaks, hopes drown.

3 June 1989 robi3_0267_rons1_0009
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II I

Soit qu’un sage amoureux, ou soit qu’un sot me lise

Soit qu’un sage amoureux, ou soit qu’un sot me lise
ll ne doit s’ébahir, voyant mon chef grison,
Si je chante d’Amour: toujours un vieux tison
cache un germe de feu dessous la cendre grise.
Le bois vert à grand’peine en le souflant s’attise,
le sec sans le soufler brûle en toute saison.
La lune se gaigna d’une blanche toison,
et son vieillard Tithon l’Aurore ne méprise.

Lecteur, je ne veux être écolier de Platon,
qui pour trop contempler, a toujours le teint blême,
ni volontaire Icare ou lourdaut Phaethon,
perdus pour attenter une sottise extrême,
mais sans me contrefaire ou voleur ou charton,
de mon gré je me noye, et me brûle moi-même.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book II I


Taking Leave

When leaving you, whose eyes subdue my state,
one night you cried out almost desperate:
« I love you, RONSARD! ‘tis my star-cross’d fate,
the Gods war ‘gainst my wishes, what a weight!
‘Tis not your age that vexes, body, gait,
mellowing with Autumn at the gate,
where fades the bloom whose summer’s had its date, -
but only the unjust cruelty of Heaven’s hate.
With sight of you, heart reason did betray.
Could I forget? Your memory gainsay?
I could not, though I would - ah, lack-a-day!
Despite my will, does counter-force waylay.
Just as ‘tis said God did all good create,
will I with His just Will co-operate. »

22 September 1987 revised 17 May 1989 robi3_0220_rons1_0007
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène Book II, xii

Prenant Congé de Vous

Prenant congé de vous, dont les yeux m’ont dompté,
Vous me distes un soir, comme passionnée:
‘Je vous aime, RONSARD, par seule destinée;
Le Ciel à vous aimer force ma volonté,
Ce n’est pas votre corps, ce n’est votre beauté,
Ni votre âge, qui fuit vers l’automne inclinée.
Je sens cela s’est perdu comme une fleur fanée;
C’est seulement du Ciel l’injuste cruauté.’

Vous voyant, ma raison ne s’est pas défendue,
Vous puissé-je oublier comme chose perdue.
Hélas! je ne saurais, et je le voudrais bien.
Le voulant, je rencontre une force au contraire
Puisqu’on dit que le Ciel est cause de tout bien,
Je n’y veux resister, il le faut laisser faire. »

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène II xii


True Love is Absolute

True love is absolute, all compromise
condemns, shares not the heart it glorifies:
while friendship sighs, and fails, whene’er one tries
to split Eve’s apple any otherwise.
I love with all my soul! Eternal ties
together knot twin spirits. Love defies
attempts at separation, Time denies.
Two halves as one love ever unifies.
Askance I shadows view with jealous eyes,
suspicious sighs in false friends recognize –
my spirit through itself identifies.
All other feelings passing whims disguise
as Love’s bright flame, light fancy which the wise
dismiss as smokescreen, childish pack of lies...

15 November 1988 robi3_0233_rons1_0001
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène Book I,56

Amour est sans milieu

Amour est sans milieu, c’est une chose extrème,
Qui ne veut (je le sais) de tiers ni de moitié;
Il ne faut point trancher en deux une amitié
Un est nombre parfait, imparfait le deuxième.
J’aime de tout mon coeur, je veux aussi qu’on m’aime:
Le désir, au désir d’un noeud ferme lié,
Par le temps ne s’oublie et n’est point oublié,
Il est pour toujours son tout, contenté de soi-même.

Mon ombre me fait peur, et jaloux, je ne puis
Avoir un compagnon, tant amoureux je suis,
Et tant je m’essencie en la personne aimée.
L’autre amitié resemble aux enfants sans raison:
C’est se feindre une flame, une vaine prison
Où le feu contrefait ne rend qu’une fumée.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524 – 1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène Book I,56


Love Holds the Key

Here, Love alone to my thoughts holds true key
Enfolding floodgates of Life’s mysteries,
Locking with self-same hand that binds and frees.
Each breath is Death, yet, dead, I live through thee.
Nor herbal remedy, drugs, alchemy,
Ease may obtain within Love’s skirmish frieze,
Life is distilled in droplet quantities
And without parley I must bend the knee.
Make me, sweet fowl, obtain the mastery
Of flight that from her sight I might with ease
Up, skywards soar, Love’s sparks and heart’s disease
Rise far above, eyes without mercy flee.
Just Heaven Beauty sells expensively,
Which, to enjoy, one must die frequently...

14 May 1989 robi3_0260_rons1_0002
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène: II xx

Amour, qui tiens tout seul de mes pensées la clef

Amour, qui tiens tout seul de mes pensées la clef
Qui ouvres de mon coeur les portes et les serres,
Qui d’une mesme main ma gueris et m’enferres,
Qui me fais trépasser et vivre derechef.
Tu distilles ma vie en si pauvre mechet,
Qu’herbes, drogues, ny jus, ny puissance de pierres,
Ne pourroient m’alleger, tant d’amoureuses guerres
Sans trêves tu me fais, du pied jusques au chef.

Oiseau comme tu es, fais-moi naistre des ailes,
Afin de m’envoler pour jamais ne la voir:
En volant je perdrais les chaudes estincelles
Que ses yeux sans pitié me firent concevoir.
Dieu nous vend chèrement les choses qui sont belles,
Puis qu’il faut tant de fois mourir pour les avoir.

Pierre de RONSARD Sonnets pour Hélène: II xx rons1_0002_rons1_0000


Another Lantern

How could another lantern light my heart
Excepting your sweet eyes where love calls out? -
Love which for most my life I’ve done without!
Each day I’d change my mistress, swiftly dart,
Now here, now there, where fortune’s smile would start.
Enlaced in no tight net, all st(r) ings I’d flout,
Lest liberty I’d lose, without a doubt
Avoiding homage to one maid apart.
My battle now is lost, but courage take
On knowing that your eyes alone could make
Useless a struggle stiff as siege of Troy.
Remember, godlike Love rash pride will break.
Judge! - Lion mercy shows, meek won’t forsake,
Raised mountains lightning shakes, won’t grass destroy.

18 May 1989 robi3_0264_rons1_0003
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I XXXVIII

D’autre torche mon coeur ne pouvait s’allumer

D’autre torche mon coeur ne pouvait s’allumer
sinon de tes beaux yeux, où l’Amour me convie.
J’avais déjà passé le meilleur de ma vie
tout franc de passion, fuyant le nom de désir.
Je voudrais maintenant cette dame estimer,
et maintenant cette autre, où me portait l’envie;
sans rendre ma franchise à quelqu’une asservie,
rusé je ne voulais dans les rets m’enfermer.

Maintenant je suis pris, et si je prends à gloire
d’avoir perdu le camp, frustré de la victoire,
ton oeil vaut un combat de dix ans d’Ilion.
Amour, comme étant dieu, n’aime pas les superbes,
sois douce à qui te prie, imitant le lion.
La foudre abat les monts, non les petites herbes.

Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 - Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I XXXVIII


From Vein to Vein

Heed how from vein to vein sweep sudden fires,
Each vessel bubbles, blood boils, cares increase!
Let April witness loss of liberties
Exiled while Aphrodite’s month suspires.
Newborn pain pangs strike as April expires,
Entrapping Destiny in life-line’s crease.
Love, soul seducing, far, wide blows its breeze,
As vainly aid I seek, who help require.
Must I surrender? Yet the poet’s lyre
Oath swears that other friends are heresies, -
Use never has a love-torn heart for these,
Rival or King no lover e’er desires.
Just as you here win an immortal fame
Rewards unjust are, for my pleas fall lame!

14 May 1989 robi3_0263_rons1_0004
Pierre de RONSARD 1524_1585 Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I LV

Je Sens de Veine en Veine une Chaleur Nouvelle

Je sens de veine en veine une chaleur nouvelle
Qui me trouble le sang, et m’augmente les soins.
Adieu ma liberté, j’en appelle à témoin
Ce mois qui du beau nom d’Aphrodite s’appelle.
Comme les jours d’Avril mon mal se renouvelle:
Amour, qui tient mon astre et ma vie dans son poing,
M’a tant séduit l’esprit que de près ou de loin
Toujours à mon secours en vain je vous appelle.

Je veux rendre la place, en jurant votre nom
Que le premier article, avant que je la rende,
C’est qu’un coeur amoureux ne veut de compagnon.
L’Amant non plus qu’un Roi de rival ne demande.
Vous aurez en mes vers un immortel renom:
Pour n’avoir rien de vous, la récompense est grande.

Pierre de RONSARD Sonnets pour Hélène: Book I LV
Jonathan ROBIN

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