Alcuin - 0293
Awhile pray pause who, passing by the way,
Lines cue, are fed into sped changeling's clay.
Can you spring from my fate what your's may be?
Unwound my clock, soon your's locked history!
In spite of this world's gifts, Time's ticks won't stay.
Now here, then there sped, bed from care carefree.
About my fads, what gads on you today,
Leaves cause to trace if grace was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, space race of what Life was to me
In yours may stay, int-urned? All slips away.
No mor[t]al s[l]ips defy Eternity.
Awhile Bede's rosary I beaded, lay
Learning as priority, salvé!
Charlemagne advised and poetry
Unfettered formulated in my see.
Ideal 'truths held self-evident' decay,
Now mocked by some as mere apostasy.
Although some style me saint, to dry bones pray,
Let well alone! To your redemption pay
Complete attention free from falsity.
Unwarranted are myths through whose haze see
Insight of 'truth' to stem their own dismay,
Near teamed tears stream for yesterdays deemed key.
Avoid crass mediocrity, display
Less pride than tolerance, life's roundelay
Clipped short can't be rebought, rethought may be,
Urge surge repeat from peat. Cacophony
Is static silenced soon, life's bubble bray
Night stifles, casket covered carelessly.
Approach existence as poetic play
Link, ink, and think, don't sink, although you may
Chaos encounter, surface foam, froth, flee.
Untie knots individuality
Insists upon through fear of castaway.
Nudge fast past selfish immaturity.
Apart from withered spoon I sleep. Make hay!
Live for today, rank tyrants disobey!
Come dusk what husk explodes with energy
Unbounded by Time's set inconstancy?
Importance lies where wor[l]dy interplay
Nets little save self echo's breviary.
Against Time's tide none ride, leaves green today
Lack lustre, sapless soon, roll over play.
Creation calls destruction, mystery
Unendingly recycled, constantly
Insipid aftertaste, lost flavour, grey.
No favour sways fickle sickle's fealty
Alas! Ball questions not life's 'Yea and Nay',
Lets bounce pronounce directions for role play,
Checked, Chance advance swift mated, Fate's decree.
Useless to appeal, squeal 'gainst spiel's fee,
In debt all ultimately must repay,
Nature's 'jeux sont faits', recoups fling's spree.
'Are there still Gods who souls with feathers weigh? '
Life's stings some cling to - just for one more day.
Chance led my dance, the rest is best set free,
Unsightly glance, dust in dust locked. Agree!
If reply lies decoding D.N.A.
Nature's template still shrouds secrecy.
(30 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alcuin - 0293 2005 Version
Awhile pray pause who, passing by the way,
Lines read, reflections fragile, seedling's clay.
Can you wring from my fate what your's may be?
Unwound my watch, soon your's spun history!
In spite of this world's gifts, Time's ticks won't stay.
Now here, then there sped, bed from care carefree.
And can you for my fortune care today,
Leaves turn to trace if I was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, the trace of what Life was to me
In yours may stay, int-urned - all fades away,
Naught human may defy Eternity.
"Are there still Gods who souls with feathers weigh? "
Life's stings some cling to, just for one more day.
Chance led my dance, the rest is best set free,
Unsightly glance, dust in dust locked. No key
Is there unless, perchance, through D.N.A.
Nature's template may decoded be.
(16 March 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alcuin - 0293 Acrostic Sonnet Initial Version
All pause and rest, who, passing by the way,
Lines read. Reflect how frail is human clay.
Can you learn from my fate what yours shall be?
Unwound my watch, run down soon yours - you'll see.
In spite of this world's gifts, old Time won't stay.
Now here, tomorrow wed to history.
And can you for my fortune care today,
Leaves turn to trace if I was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, the trace of what was Life to me
Is likely to remain? All slips away,
Naught human can defy Eternity!
The Day of Judgement none can e'er delay,
And yet some ask: 'are there still Gods to weigh? '
(8 March 1990)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bright Buckets
Bright buckets bulge with sand and shells today,
brimmed by children busily at play,
intent on building, digging time away
upon the beach, sand castles they inlay
with scalloped decorations castaway
by last tide’s currents, scattered anyway
along the tattered margin of the bay.
A tiny grain of sand was yesterday
caught up within the complex interplay
of forces ‘yond our ken which ever weigh
upon the stream of consciousness to sway
more than a moment’s notice in their way
regardless of the influences they
appear to have upon our day to day.
Our meditations led far, far away
to rock formations which Time’s Go games play
until the grain by wind or water spray
from bedrock blown, is worn down, dust or clay,
key silent witness to life’s chaos fray.
What change of scene, and what has been, what may
yet be that grain stands witness to Time’s stay...?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Daughters Of The Queen
The coach stands
Waiting just outside
Just in case the queen
Should want to take a ride
But she stays
Safely locked away
She knows the world outside
Can be so cold and grey
Daughters of the queen
Come outside and play
Slip into the nighttime
Before it slips away
Her castle
Looms into the sky
Behind those walls
Youll never see
A fear fall from her eye
She seems content
To live her life all alone
But locked inside
Those castle walls
Her heart has turned to stone
Daughters of the queen
Come outside and play
Slip into the nighttime
Before it slips away
Daughters of the queen
Come let me hold your hand
Isnt it about time
You need to feel a man
Today her majesty has gone
In deaths repose
Its much too late
She lies there all alone
Alas the dreams
Inside her heart
Sleep forever silent
Imprisoned by the dead
Daughters of the queen
Come outside and play
Slip into the nighttime
Before it gets too late
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bubble Bray - 0822 - Current Version
Time's muzzle mocks ambitions. Day by day,
through life's incessant dream theme ebb and flow,
efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
none may control, - coincidence at play
enacts a chance dance time mime stop and go
whose pattern frame spins into vertigo
flaking dates and energy away.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
cannot be reined, restrained, nor string nor bow
fires through some causal bull's eye to echo
sense sustained. Profane, with bubble bray,
most blow hot, cold on stage, then sink unheard
before they even feel flow's ripples stirred.
(9 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dry Day
Life as you know will end someday
Since every single day is never the same
Yesterday was a dark age following in today
What a surprise because today was a dry day
You got nothing to do but get wasted
Listen to me brother, don't get me arrested
We gotta break free from this stupid law
What a surprise because today was a dry day
All along as the clock ticked by I waited
It seemed as if the time was all destined
A moment of space without you I stay
What a surprise because today was dry day
Grieving low all past long when I'm high
Help me grace, love will relieve the pain
Let us explore the world as the drunk one said
What a surprise because today was dry day
As past enfolds into this mystery today
I look behind back in those days
Suck glorious moments filled us held today
What a surprise because today was dry day
poem by Siddharth Shah
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Prepare Each Day - Daughter of Hope
D ay warms to day, to night dark night succeeds,
A nd strings the Present as a row of beads
U pon Time’s rosary. The Future feeds,
G athers life’s leaves, by instinct led, or chance, -
H ere crops a leaf, another lets advance,
T here leaves alone, preparing renaissance.
E xistence swings upon a string. Hope breeds
R esponse entrusting tide which won’t recede
O r stagnant stale. We should evolve as reeds
F or whom the gales of life, each happenstance,
H old meaning but no menace, may enhance
O ur sense of being part of Life’s full dance.
Prepare each day, play role repair which brings
Enlightenment whose harmony rhyme sings...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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What Lies Beneath?
From pulp to palpitation cycles spin.
Some trace a line or two, leaves from life's tree
imprint upon collective memory -
the music of the spheres, a melody
transcending time itself and its oubli,
provide emotions and tonality
which, although evanescent, all would win,
to find oasis of serenity, -
cool shade not shadow of humanity, -
amidst the desert of incessant din
of universal static all would flee.
The flotsam of time's bark one need not pin
down too precisely. Much dexterity
excludes from fields of vision feelings free
which life enrich with spice we sense, not see, -
like perfume on the winds of change to key
ambiance of death or dance, chance we
must find to take, create to breathe, as in
a trance we dream we age by Fate's decree....
or else we drown in ephemerity.
Page turns before most even may begin
to taste their birthright - inner harmony.
Page turns before most balance yang and yin,
they hungry hang in fear and equally
protest vain light and night's eternity.
Between expectancy, acceptancy,
receding hairline space defines 'to be'
against a background continuity
where change - to which when young they felt akin -
turns traitor, turns on former guarantee
to formalize a fress integrity
based upon another Benjamin
before whose might old generations flee.
Few understand what lies beneath life's skin,
can cause, effect, decode with probity,
can probe, decipher mo[ve]ment's mystery,
can step by step retrace through history
their story sense endowed. Most men agree
to hide behind their own effrontery
rather than face their ‘present’ destiny
whose cards tomorrow's possibility
can for today's success deal seamlessly.
Few understand to start is to begin
to undermine all false security.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Some Find - 0846 - Initial Version
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
Efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Life is an incessant ebb and flow.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
None can control, - coincidence at play
Enacts a dance whose patterns few do know.
Some find a key, avoiding stop and go,
Channel energy to colour grey.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
Music invent, according string and bow,
Instinctively enjoy a vertigo
That is unknown by most, whose bubble bray
Turns to empty echo, sinks unheard.
Has she a heart whose strings can still be stirred?
(28 June 1997)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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They Gave Their All
I may not understand the wars
Or the fields of rotting corpses
I've read all the poems
Of wars from the past
And cannot imagine
The life lived back then
A blood soaked battlefield
Death wading with glee
At those that have fallen
For the right to be free
So many souls lost in time
Fighting a cause, humanity blind
Dare I say, what I read?
In between the lines
A poet soldier
Who needs to be free?
Do I have a right?
To question their fight
They gave their all
In what they believed
Teardrops fall as I continue my rhyme
But what I do understand
Is that they fought through all the wars
So that we can be free
To choose our lives
And live to be
What we want to be
All the bloodshed fields
The entire hero's lost in wars
I bow my head, and pray to thee
Thank you all
For letting me breathe
To learn and discover
The meaning of me
Tears trickle down
As I cry for your loss
You never got the chance to be free
You never found your path in life
You never came home to your loved ones, friends, and family
So what gives us the right?
The generation of today
To say how boring
Our life is today
When those in war
Never had a full life
They gave it all
So we could be free
To live a full life
I thank the hero's
Of past, present and yet to be
What so sad for humankind
Is that war is our history
Perhaps in the future
We can see peace and harmony
Perhaps dare I say it
A world weapon free
poem by Kaila George
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Ballade Of Truisms
Gold or silver, every day,
Dies to gray.
There are knots in every skein.
Hours of work and hours of play
Fade away
Into one immense Inane.
Shadow and substance, chaff and grain,
Are as vain
As the foam or as the spray.
Life goes crooning, faint and fain,
One refrain:
'If it could be always May!'
Though the earth be green and gay,
Though, they say,
Man the cup of heaven may drain;
Though, his little world to sway,
He display
Hoard on hoard of pith and brain:
Autumn brings a mist and rain
That constrain
Him and his to know decay,
Where undimmed the lights that wane
Would remain,
If it could be always May.
YEA, alas, must turn to NAY,
Flesh to clay.
Chance and Time are ever twain.
Men may scoff, and men may pray,
But they pay
Every pleasure with a pain.
Life may soar, and Fortune deign
To explain
Where her prizes hide and stay;
But we lack the lusty train
We should gain,
If it could be always May.
Envoy
Time, the pedagogue, his cane
Might retain,
But his charges all would stray
Truanting in every lane -
Jack with Jane -
If it could be always May.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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I am just a Child of Beloved nature!
I am not that,
I am not this,
I am that words can't say,
Just like unpredictable,
I Live like child of the nature,
Having sunshine in my mind,
Having cloudy sky too,
Just like a child playing with mother,
I see stars in her sky reflect in my eyes,
Those stars also brighten my dreams!
My need she fulfills,
For my questions she responds with great answers,
I am loving my mother,
I dance with her jumping with frogs and flying with butterflies,
Singing with birds,
mew with kittens, playing with puppy,
Seeing all of them as my own,
I am the child and never like to live more than that!
Life is not real for me,
Just flow of time make me sleep, dream and awake,
Work is my play, problems are quiz,
Whole life is not a puzzle,
Only wonderful play of rainbow of colourful light,
Pain or happiness are momentary,
I feel everything temporary,
Self is that playing with self alone,
Self is that ever like to live like a kid,
neither born nor die,
Never aging truth beyond time is me!
I am a part of its play,
I have to play a role,
I learn to act and play my role,
years after years roll,
I too roll life after life,
Yet remain as kid for ever!
I complain about my pain,
She has that ever soft hands to wipe tears!
When I am sad, she sends birds to sing for me,
when I am mad, she has that teacher to correct me,
She is my beloved mother, I am her loving kid!
I am learning what I am,
She teach me well with all love!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Iron Bars Of Mine
I stand behind these old iron bars,
To see the things, that I can see
I see a world that is changing everyday,
A world, that will not wait for me.
Behind these iron bars where I must lay,
Behind these bars where I must stay.
In this world where I am alone
Its a world that I helped build,
I make not the laws for how I live,
Time for me, she is held still.
As tomorrow is the same as it is today,
And today is the same, as yesterday.
Behind these bars, its where I am
It is the place where I sit and lie,
My destiny for me has already been chose,
For this is the place where I will die.
When the youth of mine turns into old,
When the dewdrops of dreams turn into snow.
The world that I made out of iron and stone
Where freedom and life is locked away
Where life is a waste, and living a haste,
It is where myself alone will forever stay.
Days and years for me, I have no care.
My only solitude, is sleep and prayer.
My day for me; she will someday come
When from my bars I am allowed to leave,
I will welcome that day with open arms and hope,
As those iron bars, will close behind me..
And for that day I will constantly pray,
As I leave those bars, for the bars of my a grave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Efforts Unrewarded - 0846 - Current Version
Time mocks priorities as, day by day,
efforts, unrewarded, dream vain show.
Existence: an incessant ebb and flow.
effects link subtle causal interplay
none may control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose pattern steps few know.
Some keys, decoded, avoid stop and go,
channel energy to colour grey.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
music invent, according string to bow,
instinctively enjoying vertigo
unknown to most, who coast with bubble bray
turned to empty echo drowned unheard.
Late offers elegy for early bird.
(7 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Let It Go
Ever felt this way
That's okay
Because this day
It too shall pass away
What makes your joy to stray
What makes your heart to say
I want my life to end today
Did your lover ask you to stay
Or ask you to find you way
Don't cry your heart away
This too shall pass someday
What do you need but lack always
Do your desires oft seem to fly away
What aches your heart and numbs your days
Did the ones you love die and turn to clay
Hope is nothing some do say
But I tell you this as I run in rain to play
That whatever happens come what may
Hope is what gives your life its days
Let go of pain, of guilt, of hurt, and yesterday
You'll feel lighter, trust me when I say
When in time your hairs are gray
And you unwrap the beauty of your life in a memory play
Look behind and find this poem and pray
That God blesses the poet who told you this that day
That what is today is not what will be alway.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Countdown
Countdown begun, one way, no leeway where
One can reverse time’s wave to save the day.
Useless to look for aid. Hopes fade, links fray.
No energy remains, there’s none to spare
To challenge fate, anticipate, prepare
Dynamic options, open interplay.
Only stray souvenirs of heyday far away
Which weigh - nostalgia validates despair.
No space to trace another future where,
Bets placed win race, no need to piper pay.
Errors, time squandered come to roost today.
Grey before, behind, mind unaware.
Uneasy lies the frown that bares barred head
No light, no flight, and no delight ahead...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Firewalls
Adapt to writing on the wall,
respond, react not, and recall
that Nature tries to overturn
the status quo, so learn to spurn
rigidity which all in all loses touch with base.
Some species rise to swiftly fall,
lose ground to others, Nature's call
plays games with all as cycles turn,
return to nothingness and burn
idols which before Time's squall held pride of place.
Yet Nature's churning free-for-all
recuts Life's cards, acts to forestall
stagnation as new species learn
to thrive from niche advantage, earn
some space to find the wherewithal to old replace.
Observe the Himalayan wall
trace trilobites in steep Nepal
call all to witness, deep discern,
the folly mind-sets rigid yearn
adjourning evolution, stall 'to save the race'.
All systems needing overhaul
at any time tend to install
firewall tools, or sempiterne
defensive mechanisms burn
their bridges, fall self-defeating victims to Time's chase.
Omar Khayyam assured 'The ball
no questions asks' both great and small,
iron clad, fruit fly, must return
to dust from dust, as atoms earn
a chance to dance again with grace.
(28 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fallen is Star - 1053 - 2008 Version of Downfall
Fallen is star which once brightly,
once clear from sheer firmament shone,
no trace now remains as Time lightly
grieves over life's leaves ever gone.
Whoever would compromise slightly
with principles life's staff has spun
must offer impression unsightly
some pity, some spurn, and most shun.
Ideals threading vision so knightly
no gleam still retain - what begun
in trust unembellished rusts, rightly
forgotten, ignored or undone.
No point in requesting politely
what became of game, quest, aim, fête's fun;
in tatters Fate scatters forthrightly
all trace of race no-one has won.
Though today some may say hale and sprightly
‘tomorrow holds promise' - yet none
would relinquish life's tether held tightly
soon Time spills, boon lies still, distance run.
(22 October 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Why Live? Why Care? - 0781 - Initial Verion
Life for me's a blossom spray,
or brooch upon a happy heart
which sparkles when flirtations start,
whose fire can never fade away.
Life's a magic mantle, ray
that song, sadness may impart,
a poem easing pain and smart,
a coloured coat that's never grey.
Life offers something fresh each day.
Though sorrow sometimes friends may part
soon pains forgotten are, we chart
delight whose light pipes cares away
Why live? Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like a mirage - men do pray
for Heaven, yet thence daren't depart
Is Earth Hell's, Heaven's counterpart?
What dreams may follow on life's fray?
Life's a pot tu[r]ned in fine clay,
sand castle serving as rampart
'gainst Time 'til tide urns each upstart.
Who pot, who potter is, who'll say?
Life's a lass who everyday
undressed is as each p[l]ays a part,
when naked, untouched by art,
she still seeks to prolong her stay.
Why live? - Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like sea breezes fresh and gay
which none control, can take apart,
cake which we would bake à la carte
but which too soon's burnt anyway.
Life blooms a moment so make hay,
Time every moment steals a part,
each year upsets the applecart
'til eyes stay closed at break of day.
Life's stream swift flows from spring to bay
it waters rose and thorn, does dart
here, there, until the final fart
blows all eternity away.
Why live? - Why care?
before you leave give, share.
(10 October 1995)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Such Is Life
The importance of what we live by,
holding strong, making fight....as time fly's! ! !
All is a matter of perspective,
you know..
the life you live! ! !
To me :) the soul conquers all,
only the petty will fall.
In the truth I have lived just today,
memory of life is all that will stay.
Yes there is ups and downs,
silly people make you frown...
but in the end,
when you close your eyes...
It's only you...
no private lies.
Seeing picture after picture,
from fifty years....
somehow....
their life....
and a few tears :)
Every moment,
every word,
every picture,
every hurt,
a memory :)
Yes, such is life! ! ! ! !
Yes! ! ! !