Circles on the ceiling, circles on the wall,
Red circles, blue circles, big circles... small.
Circles on the sidewalk, circles in the sky,
Pizza circles, cookie circles, cake circles... Pi!
The calendar tells us that today is March 14, also known as 3.14. For math fans and for poetry fans, too, it's time to celebrate: 3.14 is the beginning sequence of Pi (the mathematical symbol above).
Pi is a special number that helps us measure the area and the circumference of circles. No matter the circle, Pi is always the same number. The digits in Pi go on forever, and they never repeat. We can use calculators and computers to try to find an end or a pattern for Pi, but the plan will turn out to be pie in the sky (that's an idiom meaning a good plan that is very likely to frustrate us and very unlikely to succeed).
Many mathematicians simplify the situation, stopping at 3.14159 when they're working with Pi. Here is Pi using more digits: 3.14159265358979323846... yikes! You get the general idea. Pi is a weird and wonderful number. Let's move on to our first poem, a weird and wonderful math rap:
Many mathematicians simplify the situation, stopping at 3.14159 when they're working with Pi. Here is Pi using more digits: 3.14159265358979323846... yikes! You get the general idea. Pi is a weird and wonderful number. Let's move on to our first poem, a weird and wonderful math rap:
Pi Rap
and a 1,4,1,5
you'd have the start
of the greatest number alive.
If Pi were reduced
to a mere 3
the circles of the world
would be hexagonal, you see.
What may seem minor
just might be big,
so grab some pie
and do some trig!
-- author unknown
All this talk of Pi is making us hungry for... pie. There are poems about apple pie, alligator pie, grasshopper pie, shoo-fly pie, and four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie, but our favorite imaginary pie poem comes from our favorite fictional bear, Winnie-the-Pooh:
A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
Why does a chicken? I don't know why.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie,
A fish can't whistle and neither can I.
Ask me a riddle and I reply
Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.
--A.A. Milne
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