Primes are divisible only by themselves.
They don’t like to socialise
To produce a few composites
Pure they remain
Like a pope in a rain
You are the only one
Who can conjugate with a prime
The result, I’m afraid, is one and the same.
Eratosthenes once threw a prime on a sieve
It bounced back and created a scene
He concluded that it was pristine
You can, of course, add two primes
Surprisingly, it produces not a prime
But every other number on a dime
So, let’s just say
they are not worth your time
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Author:
Srini (
Offline) - Published: November 8th, 2023 05:35
- Comment from author about the poem: This is my first attempt at poetry. Mathematics, in my opinion, has more aesthetic than all the art in this world put to gather. This poem came into being when i was struggling with a particularly complicated maths problem. The problem remains un solved but the poem is finished.
- Category: Humor
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
It must have been one hell of a rain storm.
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