Tag: creativity
-
The nymph’s reply to the shepherd

By Sir Walter Raleigh If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherds tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love. Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When rivers rage and rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complain of…
-
The passionate shepherd to his love

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That hills and valleys, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountain yields. There we will sit upon the rocks, And we will see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And…
-
Joining The Poetry Racket

There are a lot of poets out there, apparently everyone is a poet, on some level. So I thought, if this is the flavor of the week, lets take a taste shall we? With that here is my entry for poem of the week! Roses are red Violets are blue I see the likes Your…
-
UW – “…Free as the hurricane…”

Lo! In the mute, mid wilderness, What wondrous creature? – of no kind! – His burning lair doth largely press – Gaze fixt – and feeding on the wind? From his stately forehead springs Piercing to heaven, a radiant horn, – Lo! The compeer of lion-kings! The steer self-armed, the Unicorn! Ever heard of, never…
-
Sierpinski’s Triangle

Mandelbrot’s Fractals will be familiar to a few of you from a piece I did a while ago, this short piece will cover a small aspect of something similar called Sierpinski’s triangle. What is the triangle and how does it work? Simply put it is an easily constructed form of fractal, one that is recursive…
-
The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, bid thee feed, By the stream and o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the valves rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?…
-
The Tiger

By William Blake Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deep or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist…
