Chemistry for the Non-Chemist

Ode to OChem
Oh the glassware, shiny clean,
Even better found, when with benzene.
KBr plates, scratched and dull,
Solids, nujol, in mull.
How the tranquil sodium sulfate doth lay,
To form the decahydrate, it's known to play.
But forget not, into a flask bestowing,
How else can we know, if it's free-flowing?
Now watch yourself, for Mrs. Hinshaws shout,
The times run down, we're done, get out!

pH Strips
The unknown awaits me,
I haven't a clue!
Will this small orange papers life
End in red, yellow, or blue?
Approaching, ever nearing,
The drip --- it has dropped.
Ah, alas, it is the undoing
Of suspension and fear
I now can determine,
From acid or base need I steer clear!

Distractions
There lies the table, clean with no mess,
Waiting for books, homework, possibly some stress.
calmly seated, pencil ready, my brain is almost there,
The solutions are within my reaching, each compound drawn with care.

Then comes in my bench partner, named Jacob, full of news and life,
Fifteen minutes I must wait, as he relays some trivial strife
Then it's over, his earplugs in, I'm ready to begin,
The pencils down, the thought it's there... then someone new comes in.

His major it is physics, his mouth it moves quite fast,
A friend met on my mission, with15 minutes to pass.
But then he's gone, some task to complete,
And I am left once more, left to some OChem feat.

I've managed one molecule, benzene, it's almost done,
But alas, a wardly friend, looking for some fun.
I am not rude, I answer back,
And for some time conversation doesn't lack.

By now my hour has run out, into the second I'm now moving,
And after all this time, one fact, I feel like proving.
The study area, Fishbowl- its name we can deduce,
If ever homework I feel like doing, It needs be I become a recluse!

Thirsty?
A beaker is simply a cup.
It holds liquids, it holds ions,
From it surely one may sup.
But one must be wary, one must be sure,
Of the contents held within, of the contents, are they pure?

The liquid could be acid,
Halogenated it might be,
A carcinogen hypothetically,
Some sort of base possibly?

Will it tear you inside out, will it make you scream?
Will it cause you much bleeding, will it produce many steams?
For as a beaker is simply, is surely, only a cup.
You can never be too sure if death,
Lies on the other side, as you sup.

A Popping
I strode across the room and to myself said:
"Why do ears pop?"

they are not part
of a percussion band.

Ears are not full
Of fizz in a can.

Even small sugary rocks
do not involve ears in their making.

Nor are they a father figure.
or a grandfather for the taking

The truth is this:
A Eustachian tube

The pressures are off,
And so it moves.

Adjusts if you will
To the many air tides

And makes you quite normal,
From the ears to insides.

What are Your Questions?
The questions they come, the questions they go,
Some are quite clever, others quite low.
But the best of all, the ones up on top,
Are the ones that make laughter, and even breath stop.

Poetry from the last few months.

Yay!! I'm finally on the blog! This is kinda long so... uh, sorry.

The Only Reasonable Explanation
I dedicate this poem to Josh for finally getting me on the blog.

He's been kidnapped by pirates!!
Swarthy, stinking, seaworthy, swashbuckling pirates.
Its the only reasonable explanation
He was minding his own business when they ambushed his apartment on the third floor.
Glass shattered as a peg leg kicked in the window.
His roommates heard the rustling and rumbling,
Shouting and Parrot's squawking,
Heave Ho's and Avasts!!
However, by the time they got out to the living room they had cleaned up,
Cleared out,
Sailed off.
Not a shard of glass was left behind.

Soon he stood aboard a magnificent vessel charging across the ocean blue!
(You may wonder how the pirates and their kidnappee got out to the ocean.
I don't know.
I'm just stating the facts here.)
The ocean waves crashed and sprayed as the bonny sea breeze filled the majestic sails.
The Jolly Roger smiled as the sounds of Yo ho hos and Shiber me timbers filled the salty sea air.
However, all he could hear was his knees knocking, heart racing,
The thumping of boots
The captain approached his new prisoner.
Hush filled the deck as the ruffions watched in awe.
He glowers down and with a sneer bellows,
"Off the plank with him!!"

As he stood at the edge of the plank,
staring at his soon to be watery grave below,
He remembered how he ought to be at poetry night.
This wouldn't have happened if he'd been there
Too late was his lesson learned,
that you should be at the right place at the right time.
And most of all.
All those who skip poetry night become shark fodder.


The Refrigerator Door

I set the milk on the counter and shut the refrigerator door.
I notice they're staring at me.
Well, some of them.
Others are gazing into each others' eyes, lost in their own little world.
Holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into their sweetheart's ear.
All of them smiling. Always smiling.
Knowing their reality is better than their dreams
Their lives are full of magic, all is beautiful.
Their perfect joy captured in a photo,
Like the dozens of photos that greet me each morning
As I drown my frosted mini-spooners...
And I'm out of milk... ::sigh::

Petrogliffs

The best way to chop the emense charcoaled log was to throw it off a thirty foot sandstone cliff.
At least thats the way it appeared.
The two lumbered slowly to the highest peak
Shifting and skidding with sand filled shoes
With log raised high
And a mighty warrior's cry
The blakened timber flew threw the air
Soared, spiraled, and...
The stump didn't so much as splinter
Leaving not but a sooty mark on the rusty rocks.
At that moement savegery struck.
Darkened hands donned the signs of warriors
Ebony stripes crossed heathen cheeks
Crumbling chuncks of cedar create
Epic battles, lightning strikes,
Swirling smoke round a roaring fire
Beating, thundering, bursting from the stone.
A petrogliff is worth a thousand words.


Laundry Day

There it is.
A horrendous mountain.
A smelly eyesore by your bedside.
You've tried to ignore it
Pretend you don't want to wear your favorite blouse.
Pretend that you're not down to two pairs of socks.
However, you can pretend no longer
It has to go.

You awkwardly amble down the stairs,
Hoping all the good machines aren't taken.
Dark side versus light side.
Thick bloo goo that smells like an Irish spring globs to the bottom of the washer.
A dollar later tha machine is working its magic.

Sudsing and swirling in a vicious vortex of towels, t-shirts, and jeans
Later you aid a soggy migration to a warmer climate.
The rumbling, tumbling, tossing, and turning lightens until at last you unload.

Hot, steamy, fresh, delicious.
It makes you think of warm blankets on a stormy night,
The crisp clean air of a summer rain,
Teddy bears in creepy commercials?...

Pressed, folded, stowed away.
All is in order.
For two weeks, anyways.



Death of the Coulter 750

I love you my dear robots
You greet me every night
And like a choir of R2D2s
Sing me sweet lullabies

pSHHH... errr, tsh tsh tsh, clicka clicka clicka, beep
Tap, snap, chunka, thump,
whir, purr, hum, rumble, ERRK, GRIND, EEEEE!

I rouse from my night dream
Like a mother stirring to aid her howling infant
Wondering whats wrong this time

I lift your cover, open your mechanic soul, and gaze deep within.
Wires and tubing
Gears and slides,
They usually dance in a seamless waltz.
They now lay still in a pool of blood.

Precious analyzer, you're too beautiful to die.
May I be your Dr. Frankenstein and bring you back to life?
No... I must face the dawn alone.



ICA

The first step to overcoming an addiction is admitting you have a problem.
Hello everyone. I'm Jill Schuler and I'm addicted to ice cream.
Can you blame me?
So cool and creamy like...
NO! No more!

I tell myself I shall overcome this.
I tell myself I won't buy any, not this week.
And then I glance down the frozen food isle.
Its like a party down there.
Everyone is laughing and smiling.
I glance side to side to ensure I'm not caught...
Not that it matters, I'll only be looking.
It can't hurt to look.

I notice the vanilla, chocolate, Neapolitan.
I can resist. I don't need them.
But suddenly I notice the moose tracks.
The moose is a very majestic creature.
Its as if its guarding the Caramels praline.
A worthy cause. It does look particularly valuable in all its golden splendor.
Rocky Road, the pathway to bliss.
Peanut Brittle, brittle like my will to resist.
Macadamia Crunch, Fudge swirl, Cookie Dough,
EVERYTHING BUT THE!!!

Its as if a light from heaven shines upon each pint.
That might just be the light from the freezer...
Meh, same diff.
Well.... I guess I'll be better next week.


The Cell: A Biological Prison

Blast! A Blast!! A lymphoblast to be precise.
You are hereby declared to be a juvenille delinquent of the blood stream.
You are hereby sentenced to be trapped forever in the prison
To spend the rest of your life surrounded by cells.

The cells are everywhere
Nucleus lobed in ugly blebs
Cytoplasm so blue that no smile could ever cheer it again.
Basophils with granules as black as its soul

How alone a lymphoblast must feel, so young.
Its nucleus still smooth
Its nuclei still clean and fresh.
It should still be back in the marrow
Where life was safe and calm.

Why did it rush into the fast lane.
Endopoies into the turbulence of the arteries and veins.
Up through a needle, smeared on a slide.
Stained and illuminated.



Snakes

As I sat upon the shore
To view lake, rocks, and sky
An old sunbathing serpent
Happened to cross my eye.

Many a time before
I've come across a snake.
Sneaking, slithering, startling,
They made me squeal and shake.

But spying this simple reptile
Before he spotted me
Made me really wonder
Why I each time did flee.

His head no bigger than a nut
Would crunch beneath my heel
If I but took a faulty step.
How would that make him feel?

Many a snake may cross our path
May make us dread and fear
But our fear could be overcome
If we'd learn, think, see, and hear


Interrupted Dreams

Draped across the couch in the soft silky darkness
I let a smooth summer breeze of cool dreams waft over me.
Sweet, refreshing, delicious.

A sudden blaring erupts the still
Delirium strikes
I flail like a fish on a line
Searching frantically to stop it all.

I mutter into the phone and let their words sweep over me.
Sentences form from their words,
Soothing my racing heart.
The fog over my mind seems to thin as I realize whats happening.
They're trying to tell me something.
I can feel it.

But sleep starts to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
Becons with promises of calm, peaceful loveliness
Its words are more clear than the prattling of whoever this is.

I mumble and mutter until they finally release me.
I collapse in a weary relief.
Sweet sleep, let me return to your embrace.


That's probably enough poetry for one evening... Back to work with me!

Snakes

Our most recent club night theme was snakes, and these were my contributions:

Hiss
Sibilance of slither:
Sunlight playing on his scales
Shining chords of light.

Dust

On thy belly, pressed as close to earth as skin can be,

a forced embrace of thy mortality

Licking dust until the day to dust thou shalt return,

Tasting ev'ry day the death that comes

And does the bitter venom of this fate

squeeze out the life still nascent in thy birth?

And as thy path twists serpentine away,

dost thou take warmth or coldness from the earth?

Wrath

There is a writhing in your eyes,

coiled deep inside those constricted pupils,

that no tail of snake can match,

and I freeze in fear for the strike.

Desert Snake

Shed this skin, so dry--you're itching to be free

and feel the green caress of grass.

Wind 'round rocks and sit, silent, scale on stone;

raise your head and taste the thirsty air.

Touch

without wings, free of fingers, snake senses all