Ars Poetica
Some from within, some from without,
without a doubt set to,
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to flow, grow, glow. Thereto
through weaving in and weeding out
touch base with Nature, cue
time, place, as twins defeat and wins
ignored are through and through.
No need to shout, run roundabout,
use artificial glue,
scribe’s violin tunes, underpins,
technique as heart rings true.
Sensations scout, don’t beat about
the bush, tout false virtue,
The poet’s string must second skin
become, ne’er dumb, askew.
Words work their way by night and day
from phases past, to light
through threads at play that more threads lay,
reeled phrases feed fresh flight.
(30 March 2005 revised 9 June 2007 and 1 February 2012)
robi03_1128_robi03_0000 XXX_IXX
see below for previous version entitled Poetics
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
(30 March 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.
Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0778 written 30 March 2005 revised 20070619 and 20081112 for previous version see below
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
© Jonathan Robin – written 30 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write About
Fairy tales
golden rings
silver threads
magic things
life and such
all the hush
smiles and tears
o'er the years
spinning dreams
weaving threads
gold and silver
in my head
life's tapestry
sweet and true
threading a
needle with you
poem by Heather Burns
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Threads Paint a Plan Neat
Kindly read notes for explanation of acrostics
Plan unshut theme tale. Warp writ scheme it seems.
Allow claims, - meet able essay's real reel.
I bead, mend, scan English in ideal spiel -
new art ideas we thread, pen novel themes.
tress respun words, wed writing's subtle gleams.
Although remade, we argue verse with zeal
Pleasured thought so maid deep poet feels,
letter read acrostic has spelt dreams
a few, sum drawn, believe - call to see schemes.
Name see housed in cross weaving we conceal.
Nomadic aims we thread, see, note, - tale reel
emerges now, wakes wit, fills in thought streams.
Art, dumb, dare meet as double lines end measure,
true leisure as my law, elated treasure.
THREADS PAINT A PLAN NEAT
External acrostic PAINT A PLAN NEAT
Vertical acrostic from H of Theme first line
HANDS HEED HANDS
Diagonal Acrostic from first letter P... PLEASURE
Word PLEASURE 7th line
Diagonal Acrostic from last letter T
Diagonal Acrostic from letter M first line Theme MEASURE
Vertical acrostic from first line warp P
PAINTED PLAN SEE
Circular palindrome from first line ALEWA tale warp
ABLE WAS I ERE I SAW ELBA
Diagonal Acrostic from letter M last line My MEASURE
Additional internal acrostics
[I See Me] MAUDE C occuring 6 times
MEET, MEET THREADS WE SEE LATE occuring twice
robi3_1253_robi3_0000 BQS_IXX
16th. May 2005 revised 24 March 2009
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Oh Those Threads
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
coming together
gold and silver
tears and laughter.
creating a pattern
U and I, fashioning
us.
knotted so closely
refusing to fray
a lovely tapestry
inter-woven over
the years
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
together at last.
poem by Heather Burns
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Sunshine’s Once Again Here
Sunshine is once again here
Glowing from in and out
Golden threads everywhere
When low down and in doubt
Wishing wells of yesterday
All that was in its old song
As the threads come and play
Together when we do long
All is in footsteps that come
Colors to a heart pounding
That where our feelings are from
Gold echoes their sounding
Sea of the touches and deep
Flowers within that don´t fall
Yours forever assets to keep
When colors of summer call
Sunshine is filling my window
With all that I see outside
Summer my roses shall grow
Now to its loveliness abide
Wishing wells to tomorrow
Every time in your uncertainty
Let summer yielding adagio
Make every desire guarantee
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Rising dreams
Dreams!
My delicate dreams!
Woven with the tender threads of love,
Bound with the glue of belief.
When collide,
Break down
Into shears and shreads.
A thousand of them!
Each bit a tiny momento
Of time.
Each bit a priceless memory
Difficult to unwind.
I mourn,
My thousand tears
And bury them
Deep somewhere in my heart.
My heart,
Cemetery of my dreams.
My dreams,
Born a thousand lives
Dying a thousand deaths.
My delicate dreams
Woven with the threads of love
Bound with the glue of belief.
And
To my weirdest surprise
I see them rise
From thousand broken shears
From thousand broken shreds
With smile in their lips
Hope in their brows
They rise
Weaving together the threads of love
Bonding with the glue of belief.
Yes! They rise
My dreams They rise.-anjali
poem by Anjali Kakati
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To Be Home Again
Oh!
To return to those precious
moments,
Where little people dance
inside the ring.
we stroll in the meadow,
stop and refresh ourselves
Lauralee is weaving a lovely
tapestry,
threads of gold and silver,
woven so closely together,
Papa is gathering threads
for her loom.
In the distance a beautiful
flower appears,
I hear a faint song, yet so
familiar,
sitting on his favorite petal,
my fairy man,
It's so good to be home again.
poem by Heather Burns
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Spirit Spits Pits
[S]tale smoke,
Pale bloke,
I‘m broke,
Rum coke
In poke
Time’s joke …
So Croak!
13 April 2005 revised 28 March 2009 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 XXX_DJZ
Previous title Cost of Dying – for previous version see below
Cost of Sin
Stale smoke,
I’m broke,
No joke.
13 April 2005 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 AWX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Spinning
Like a blind spinner in the sun,
I tread my days;
I know that all the threads will run
Appointed ways;
I know each day will bring its task,
And, being blind, no more I ask.
I do not know the use or name
Of that I spin:
I only know that some one came,
And laid within
My hand the thread, and said, 'Since you
Are blind, but one thing you can do.'
Sometimes the threads so rough and fast
And tangled fly,
I know wild storms are sweeping past,
And fear that I
Shall fall; but dare not try to find
A safer place, since I am blind.
I know not why, but I am sure
That tint and place,
In some great fabric to endure
Past time and race,
My threads will have; so from the first,
Though blind, I never felt accurst.
I think, perhaps. this trust has sprung
From one short word
Said over me when I was young,--
So young, I heard
It, knowing not that God's name signed
My brow, and sealed me His, though blind.
But whether this be seal or sign
Within, without,
It matters not. The bond divine
I never doubt.
I know He set me here, and still,
And glad, and blind, I wait His will;
But listen, listen, day by day,
To hear their tread
Who bear the finished web away,
And cut the thread,
And bring God's message in the sun,
'Thou poor blind spinner, work is done.'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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To My Own Self
My hands the Hook thunder hangs its hat on,
My breast the Arroyo storms fill with water,
My brow the Horizon sunrise fills,
My heart the Dawn weaving blue threads of day,
My soul the Song of all life...
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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Parents are like shuttles on a loom. They join the threads of the past with threads of the future and leave their own bright patterns as they go.
quote by Fred Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fresh Dimensions
Magic passion lifts aloft life’s song,
as love's light flexes butterfly-bright wings,
unchains hope's scope, reclaims aims' heartfelt rings,
dreams forward stream, finds feelings fair and strong.
Enigmas are resolved - false right, true wrong -
curb rash rush to judgement, insight brings
on innate understanding, softly sings
revealing fresh dimensions where “belong”
real empathy may entertain, prolong.
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings,
exile Time’s agression, salve past stings -
response sees through all torture-mirage tongs
attains new plane where each from each learns much,
spins sentiments meant to enhance shared touch.
10 June 2006 revised 18 May 2008 for previous version see below
Breathless passion lifts aloft life’s song,
Existence flexes butterfly-bright wings,
Leads to true aims attained, - unchained heart rings
Ideal dream’s forward stream, finds feelings strong.
No preconceptions air false right, true wrong,
Dare rush to judgement, for fresh insight brings
An innate understanding as scope sings
Boundless expansion where the word “belong”
Empathy may entertain, prolong.
Leave Time’s agression, all unpleasant stings,
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings.
New doors lead into sharing far from nong!
Draw inspiration to enhance and cheer
A reach where each from each learns vision clear.
10 June 2006
Fresh Dimensions Poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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To Dream
So sweet 'tis your slumber-
Such relief from the everyday flow-
Wrapped in your silken comforter-
Simply allowing your subconcious to go...
Nestled against a dream-
For want of relief from constant pain-
Must embrace it with your every fiber-
Lest it all disappear in vain...
If you should happen upon the 'Dream Weaver'-
Accept his gifts of honesty and flowers-
Cascade tenderly into the heat of his open heart-
And enjoyably idle away the hours...
Allow the softness of his gentle voice-
To simply smooth away your woes-
Take in, by threads, the strength from his spirit-
And let go of all of your past foes...
Embrace his sweet soul completely woven-
Oh so passionate-oh so kind-
His tender touch upon your skin-
'Twil calm the demons that have haunted your mind...
His sense of humor 'twil light up your laughter-
That the 'ebon of the night once had stole-
Weaving your being ever so softly intense-
Allow him to re-sew -what once was whole!
August 3,2009
poem by Theodora Onken
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Unique Tapestries
A beautiful jersey with a cable pattern illustrating Many
Worlds Theory by weaving infinite threads of parallel
alternative events into cables spiralling rhythmically
in colour, sound and form
Evoking feeling and emotion, influencing choices which
change the future and past, creating unique tapestries on
the loom of the gods, threads made up of consciousness
shimmering in and out of existence
History is not an unfolding of preset events, but it is shaped
by every thought, plan, desire, wish, vision and dream; every
pattern is formed by free innovation, the alternative universes
of possible choices
Create the time-loop cables in reality’s tapestry, threads fork
innumerable times before converging again to continue the
enchanting patterns that keep gods and men staring
at the infinite possibility of probabilities…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Respite
Seek not in sect soul’s quest for quick relief
as narrow road leads to, from, narrow mind,
open tracks which back up tacks to find
respite till Search and Way unite as whole.
None need to feed from need to fire fame’s coal,
match flame with aim in game to leave behind
the past, for first IS last, draws double bind.
Reject temptation’s superficial role,
lip-service lending simply to control
disparities that, poles apart, unwind
when tenets tested cannot be combined
with sentiments sustained, coherent goal.
If puzzle pieces of their own accord
can fit, ‘tis writ, - if not, await reward.
22 March 2005 revised sonnet version 1 December 2006
robi03_1517_robi03_0000 SXX_EXX
robi03_1099_robi03_0000 AXX_EZX
for alternative version
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII II
AN ANSWER?
Seek not in sect the answer to lost soul
As narrow road leads into narrow mind.
Make most of opportunity to find
A way to join both Search and Way made whole.
None need to feed from need to fire the coal,
To spark the flame which burns the Past behind,
Heed intuitions, harmony, to bind
All pattern parts, let inner knots unwind...
22 March 2005
robi03_1099_robi03_0000 AXX_EZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll ll
Respite poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the garden
Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the garden
With red threads binding them and stars about,
These shall be her symbols, for she is high and holy,
Holy in her maidenhood and very full of doubt.
Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlish
Fearful her heart's lilies should be stained by sin.
Yet will I bind them with rosy threads of passion.
Surely human passion has a right to enter in.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Ses Mots Sont Ici II
Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests
Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition
Acrostics to be found below
Ses mots sont ici [vertical acrostic from 1st Line S of has] [French – his/her words are here]
Susan Sellers SS [1 vertical external and 2 diagonal bottom up acrostics keyed as above to the 1st line S of has]
Palimpsest:
A manuscript on which more than one text is written with
earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.
Ses Mots Sont Ici II
Sweet friend has Time Time conquered in your heart,
used no successes’ superficial glow
somehow as jest so settle life as though
all fades, - a dream's drawn ready to depart?
Not in the years of age should these thoughts start!
So often sleep steals laughter, ends Time’s flow,
expels old love, sends slight grace, - then we go.
life dies away as cold evenings chart
Life is a song whose chorus sings: Depart!
Even now cause and effect knock, so
reward each instant, Time shan't wait, you know.
So seek within, till safe your soul, then part.
Surrender true choice not, return trust's song
Sure to evolve, find Way, may soul stay strong...
16 May 2005 revised 6 January 2007
robi3_1254_robi3_0000 BQS_DZX
for alternative version see
Susan Sellers
Sweet friend has Time Time conquered in your heart.
Used no successes’ superficial glow
Somehow as jest so swift adopted though
A glued remora’s maw right hard to part.
Not in the years of freedom should one start!
So often sleep steals laughter, and, Time’s flow,
Expels old love, sends slight sursis. We go.
Lives leave ere summer’s eves grow long, ends chart.
life as silence soon falls stricken by Time's dart.
Even now, while in fame your name may grow,
Ribald critics try, false praise bestow.
So seek within, till safe your soul, - spurn mart.
Surprises will chains burst, turn tables, - you’re
Sure to win, and find Eve’s apple’s [s]core...
© Jonathan Robin – written 19 January 1992 revised 6 January 2007
robi3_0529_robi3_0000 BQS_ZXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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To Tint Mad March with Tenderness of June
Another tide flows in, another moon
spins silver gossamer upon soft ground,
another droplet of spaced-time too soon
its home within eternity has found.
Soul's song has lost strong s[pr]ing. None shall resound
as midnight breasts twelve steps that lead to noon,
can chart the sentiments still heart astound,
to tint mad March with tenderness of June.
Yet still this spirit restlessly repines,
though fane would flower from its pain cocoon,
to span star-spangled sky, scan far for signs
which one day rich say she may grant my boon.
If Truth be Beauty, of a truth these lines
shall sparkle where Life’s fair reflection shines...
Dream's haze obeys the tidal ebb and flow
that Luna excercises as its pull
draws, opens, curtains here, there seeds may sow
to catalyze reflections to the full.
Filters fail to stem prismatic streams
whose waves save inklings hiding from dawn's light,
strange how both fragile and eternal themes
link this world to its parellels, unite
base terran trace to hidden face whose spells
spin cause into effect, direct our play,
whose influence spans last gasp, first farewells,
chance dance, phrase phases, catchwor[l|d roundelay.
Alarm bells ring to spring this song from sleep
as sun peeps past horizon, robins cheep...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Another 0813 Initial Version
Another autumn evening's golden link
Now adds to measured Time in mind of man.
One more year [s]tumbles far from solstice brink,
Turns towards millenia billions scan.
Hopes rising generation soon sees sink,
Ending, one strong before its seed began,
Relearning this: 'I am because I think'
As one September spins predestined plan,
Names one September more Time's f[l]ame would ink.
One equinox haphazard knocks to fan
The fires of Fate which somehow interlink,
Here light Time's treadmill, spinning through its span.
Ends one loose line to tie thoughts in terse tale,
Reeled threads unwind another fresher trail...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Kakemono Kites of Spring
Kite hung in cerulean sky
invites comparison to scroll
as string unwinds see colours roll
ascend, descend, as butterfly
breasting current, soaring high,
then gliding, fabric on cross pole
stitched, kakemono parabole
whose history of times passed by
or vibrant dragon scarcely shy,
prints memory one may unroll
when seeking causal links whose string
plays out or reins in Chance's sting.
Kakemono kite portrays
chromatic hieroglyph within
rollers wooden, yang and yin
invite a glance. Attention stays.
Beyond horizon's curtain haze
kami set reeled wheels a-spin,
mislaid sensations may begin
recalling soul-song 'spite life's maze.
If Fate some unseen hand obeys
No straight line logic can man pin, -
Knit your own links, spurn worldly din.
Advance, each forward step portrays
rung strung on ladder, represents
inked history's evanescence.
Fresh fanned breeze feels kite's counterwheels
in energy reborn, whose light,
responds to current's second-sight,
paints sense intense on bobbing reel.
Breeze buffet dance, rides' glides conceal
karmic trajectory for flight.
An aura some might call insight,
reflecting semi-conscious zeal
through these three sonnets shows appeal
needing no fancy phrases bright.
Kite flies to offer wings which might
refer to life's conditions real,
ressuscitates awareness, knows
seeds sown soon grow where'er wind blows.
for previous version entitled Magic Circle see below
Kakemono inked portrays
A magic circle where, within
Rollers wooden, yang and yin
Invite a glance. Attention stays.
Now chance has fuelled an inner blaze!
Kami set the wheels a-spin
As long lost feelings can begin
Recalling soul-song through Life's haze.
If Fate some unseen hand obeys
No straight line logic can man pin, -
Knit your own links, spurn worldly din.
Advance! Each step through life's mad maze
Rung on the ladder represents,
INside walls fall, - who needs defence?
Keep faith with Life and you will feel
An energy reborn, whose light,
Responding to some second-sight
Intense may sense bring to Fate's wheel.
Now motivations don't conceal!
Karmic call falls for free flight,
An aura some men call insight,
Reflecting inner, conscious zeal.
In this short sonnet my appeal
Needs no fancy phrases bright.
Kite flies to offer wings which might
Answer expectations real.
Recall all intuitions, know
INdeed that seeds sown soon shall grow!
(5 December 1996 revised 1 March 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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