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I Am Argon
My atomic number is eighteen
I’m a gas many scientists have seen
I’m the most common noble gas on the Earth
One percent of the atmosphere, for what it’s worth.
Similar to Oxygen is my solubility
I’ve never made a compound stably
I’m pretty mellow, I’ll never react
But I can be a current through which Mercury will pass
Argon-39 is often used for ice-coring
A hobby most people find very boring
I am Argon, hear me roar
I’m always ready to tell you more.
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By Kellie Holt |
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A noble gas for sure
Argon is the word
Aside from what you’ve heard
Non metal is the class
This I can assure
Found in 1894
It’s stable as a rock
With the initials Ar
It’s toughest on the block
In the 3rd period
Of the periodic table
Having atomic number 18
Its color you can’t label
People say it’s cool
People say it’s great
But the truth of the matter
Is its outer shell
Contains just 8
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By Brittany Thomson |
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Inactive
Try and figure out who I am.
I am inactive.
You can’t have one of my electrons.
And I don’t want one of yours.
I have 18 electrons and protons.
I have 22 neutrons.
You can’t see, smell of taste me.
I am the 3rd element in group 18.
I am the in the 3rd period.
I am number 18.
My atomic mass is 39.948 g/mol.
I am found in the atmosphere.
Lord Rayleigh and Sir William Ramsey discovered me.
I am abbreviated Ar.
If you haven’t figured it out by now I am Argon.
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By Elyse Rossi |
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Argon
Saves wine from staleness
Dries bad blood in surgery
Kills Oxidation
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By Kellie Holt |
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Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.
Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
PP2
PP2
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By mike |
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Argon-Ar
Noble gas
An inert gas
Filling incondescent light bulbs
Argos |
By Chris D. |
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Argon
Not a deadly gas it truely
is in light bulbs
not radioactive either
its floating high
Floating high...
floating by...
floating high is Argon
floating high...
floating by is Argon
Floating in emptyness
floating in empty space
is so gotta be Argon;
floating
floating away and
the light bulb breaks
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By Rg |
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Argon is an element, heavier than air.
Called a noble gas,
used in the atmosphere.
And 39.948 is it's atomic mass.
It's in the same family,
with Neon,
and Helium,
but not Zenon. |
By J.F. |
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Ar, with an atomic number of 18,
Argon is a gas that can't be seen.
A nonmetal that's easy to surpass,
39.948 is its atomic mass |
By Erin Brown |
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Argon is an element
that roams around in air,
Luckily for us there isn't
much of it in there.
Were its concentration higher,
it would get into our lungs,
displacing all the oxygen,
and turning blue our tongues.
We would go into asystole,
and start to decompose,
from the zenith of our dura,
to the nadir of our toes.
The economy would suffer,
with the labor force all gone.
We would blame the politicians,
though the culprit be argon.
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By Douglas Woolley |
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To be third,
yet noble enough to be called so.
This blue,
colour of royalty, sir, baron,
this hue.
Coloured or colourless,
ask the light?
But colours have no smell,
not blue.
Red rose, green apple, purple grape,
but blue is argon's light. |
By Claire St-Laurent |
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Roots
I went looking for my past
friends, long left behind
in that climb up and away fast
from things that used to bind
You startled me in my flight,
looking at me as if to say:
They feed you, straightened your sight
and will come a dry lonely day
you finding your roots 'are gone'. |
By Roger Blenman |
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Argon Haiku
Noble gas Argon
You sit gracefully at rest
Your valence shell full. |
By Fish |
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