Teaching and writing mathematics have influenced JoAnne Growney to write poems that use mathematical imagery in a variety of ways.  Included here (below) are "Good Fortune" and "Changing Colors.   You may also wish to link to "San Antonio, January, 1993" or "Can a Mathematician See Red?" or "A Mathematician's Nightmare" or "My Dance is Mathematics" (a poem to honor algebraist Emmy Noether).   These latter poems are included in a lovely little collection of mathematical poems, My Dance is Mathematics; a printing error caused the second printing to be recalled by Paper Kite Press, but paper copies are availble from JoAnne and the poems are online HERE. 

         Another way to celebrate math-poetry links is to browse an article, MATHEMATICS IN POETRY, published Ocober 2006 in JOMA.  Elsewhere on JoAnne's page you may find THEIR math poems--which includes titles and links to some of my favorites of OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS that use mathematical imagery --and Math forms poems--which includes math-poetry ideas related to poetic structure.  My constant regret is that I do not have time to maintain these pages as I would like to--please contact me with your queries or suggestions.

Good Fortune

is good numbers—

the length of a furrow,

the count of years,

the depth of a broken heart,

the cost of camouflage,

the volume of tears.

Changing Colors

Blue

yoyo—

awkwardly

stopping / starting,,

rising / plummeting,

seeking self-control.  Please,

mother-friend-lover-child, don't

pull string.  Let me collect myself.

I climb high above the treetops,

soar with the golden eagle,

linger on fleecy clouds.

My path encircles

other orbits —

powerful,

yellow

sun.

In this poem the numbers of syllables in consecutive lines

are consecutive positive integers.     Here we have

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8--8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.

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Geometry Demonstration

Yesterday, some visitors

interrupted geometry class —

angry voices raged around the room,

unwilling to stay caged within my head

while I spoke enthusiastically

of axioms of incidence,

placements of parallels,

numbers of degrees

in the angles of rectangles.

Wake up.  This is not difficult —

no hungry mouths to feed, no

bleeding wounds to heal.  Adopt

a polygonal attitude.  Examine

an assumption.  Abandon the postulate

that says, don't ever question.

You were not born knowing.

Your mind won't get dirty

on a tangent of hyperbolic thought.

Open up.

Let one eye watch

the parallels

that meet.

Shift to a point

of perspectivity.

Draw those lines

that cross

at your heart.

My students ignored these stirring voices,

so I dismissed them and went on—

rightly coaxing obtuse angles

to square up

and respond.

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