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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keyless
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
efforts are hamstrung, - phantom puppet show
reflects our vain illusions’ ebb and flow.
Effects’ and causes’ ripple interplay
scoffs at control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose patterns none may know.
Why seek for key? Self-righteous afterglow
can’t channel flow to stem the current grey?
Chance - Time’s harmony – Man won’t obey,
cares not a tinker’s curse for those who bow
would string, - self validating vertigo
soon bursts to leave brief, troubled, bubble bray
deflated, echo muted, song unheard.
Who’ll witness stand that strings were ever stirred?
19 September 2005 revised 30 October 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Open Gate - 1222 - 2008 Version
The need that tames the flames of inner fire
may seed ten thousand ripples, may be more.
Desire to feed the furnace of desire
creates from dust more than there was before.
Those letters [l]inked on parchment or those which
on pixel tell~tale tra[n]ce dance in the brain
may early, late, both stimulate, enrich,
cross reference, cross reference again.
Rich pitch one hears switch spheres have ever known
they knew they knew before tuned undertone
vibrating through the Universal, sown
as echo coeval with the wind thats blown
along the way as day and night advance ~
or is it coexist in parallel ~
with worlds dreams glimpse perhaps when changeling Chance
weird timeline opens till dawn's waking bell.
What counts is ways the wave bands interlink
from infra violent through the ultra read
judgmental values fade, flushed down Life's sink,
the Pattern counts, how waft and web are spread
within the flow itself should make one think
there is no past, no present, no ahead,
as Time can rhyme the span, at Man must wink ~
as [s]he's from Judge to Judgement, spinning, led.
The air we breathe with life must seethe and how
that interacts to marshal facts is strange,
coincidence may shape both 'here and now'
and still instill, fulfill, more scope, more range
without the trammels and the platitudes
which most repeat ~ both low and high ~ as each
delays, downplays unusual attitudes,
won't glow in flow with currents out of reach.
This flow is pattern icing on the cake
the poet bakes it takes the time to write,
which whirls around, spurns sight and sound to rake
no line dividing time, space, day or night.
Thus time itself appears conveyor belt
on belt 'die Welt' drives on at different speeds,
some contradictory, some helter-skelt
to feed the need to feed the need to seed
an echo which upon an unknown date
in turn may stimulate discovery
of what once known ~ unlocking open gate
calling upon the inner eye to see.
the need that tames the flames of inner fire
to seed ten thousand ripples, may be more,
desire to feed the furnace of desire
from doom creating more than bloomed before.
(16 April 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Timely Rubaiyat
If outside in is spelled E.M.I.T.
and inside out spells T.I.M.E. fit
unto the day the evil thereof see
fit to a T however played one's wit.
But what to Time is 'inside' or is 'out'?
for Time's dimension both can do without,
vain signpost vane may spin now east now west,
crow heeds no fixed road stop sign roundabout.
Thus pride precedes greed's fall, Fate far and wide
Indicts Man's might, plight sets gleams' dreams aside.
Most confidence masks weakness, sorry schemes
Ensue, Time tables turns, spurns deals inside.
Vainglorious is immaturity,
gifts mirage mirror of futility
reflecting on societal concern
defining off and on in sanity.
Some comfort find vouchsafing certainty
though blind most minds before dark door they flee,
for insecurities behind bluff masks
still smack of shameless insincerity.
What hides behind Time's trap, no map may see,
few counter fate, discover guilt edged key
of "me and thee" when once behind its veil,
what will prevail, beneath what scrutiny?
Birth - berth, worth - earth, that sweet felicity
which flashed upon the page of Destiny
one little lifetime soon is swallowed up,
archive deleted from man's memory?
Time helter-skelter headlong spins, all's rush,
"I will survive! " slays others in the crush,
Merge, surge then splurge, urge on, and then strike-out,
Ephemeral applause drowned out by hush.
From alpha unto omega Time's hum
reels strange range wheels recycling all that come
first cry, last cry, lies die, then die's recast
as harmony seeks equilibrium.
Thrust's force attraction contradictions seeks
to overcome, Time's great equation's speaks
to recreate and recombine, stem cells
flux mustered, mastered, peaks, weak wanes, then reeks.
New cycles spin, unpin past wins, address
fresh challenges, evolve, adapt, contest
tired tenets, genes rewired, force fired set scene
for stranger change, to counter maladdresses.
No sense in dwelling on vast past success,
which in itself is source for future stress,
why break sound barriers that Time instills
teach reach, brake, sense retain? More may prove less!
Term prudence "safety"? Whore's short-term success.
Interests vested, spendthrift years contest,
Modus operandi, Time Time kills,
Each icon old fresh status quo divests.
Time's Tortoise, Man is fable's Hare, confined
in mortal contradictions which the mind
finds quite unhuman, taking what it gives
what lives soon undertaken, chaff to grind.
snide greed, pride, speed, soon overcome
Is it justice? Is it balance? Those ahead soon d[r]ead behind,
Making room through swift disposals for proposals less confined,
Express need for further testing, jesting, questing, inquest dumb.
Time, tempter and preemptor, auctions choice
as bubble-gum exploding, empty voice,
one generation fades away, one more
takes cue to strut as peacock and rejoice.
What cheers have penetrated great divide
between one era and the next? what guide
avoided asteroid explosion set
to make clean sweep of chatter and tongue-tied.
Time mutates, very speedily translates
as viral spiral gyral ices cake,
spliced monky to man key plan or grave mistake,
downsizing, soon induces second states
that pace race, trace select, until the past
fast buries past's repasts, idols outcast,
no ‘Ergo cogito' shows ‘sum' in store,
all dwindles in nothingness at last.
Time destroys its own foundations, rule of thumb
Leads ever onward, vicious spiral scrum,
where one way trip soon rips predispositions
without concession, tic-toc blocked, locked, dumb.
Intuition tunes to pattern ducts intelligence designed.
Mankind must forward press, and quickly, or its mainspring may unwind,
Ever onward, tripping, hasty, vicious forward spiral-scrum.
Time, true master of new master, swift may slave of slave become,
In a twinkling of an eyelid, with an inkling of the mind,
Most by wayside fall, and falling fail to rise, we seldom find
Each with grief reach silver lining welcome, wheel spins go and come.
Time, prestidigitator, spurns prestige,
sand grains drain, Time, replenished stands the seige,
when boom goes bust dust tomb entrusts low, great,
rebuilds from scratch big bang hatch, scorns vestiges.
Time's zenith ride descendant has prepared,
mutes bugle's rally cry round cause compared
to none as pendulum against itself is swung,
hung, drawn and quartered, preconceptions pared.
What footprints may be gleaned from sands of Time,
what idylls and what odysseys to rhyme
may be retained as in an amber bubble,
what climb, what fall, what forfeiture, what crime?
From timely opportunities some draw
conclusions which confusion turn when more
is known or shown of causal wheel or karmic churn
which burns or freezes, frieze all still ignore.
Time, excellent musician, drummer, drum,
is clay, pot, playful potter, part and sum,
fobs off mocked mortals puny pleas and adds
where it subtracts, leaves fiction, facts, both numb.
Evanescent, effervescent matrix grid,
vibrates through tuning fork in road well hid
from sight and insight, secret intertwined
with second-thoughts which time distorts unbid.
Time, both predator and dater, turns the bread
of life to crumbs, life's water ices, - sped
past hope for scope in halter's halted, while,
Time onward flies, belying time well fed.
Magician fly, man's pyramids remind
our power, pomp pain hour stomp, romp turns to rind,
blossom blows, Time, heedless flows, drip, drip,
pips toast at post, tips, slips, - grain grist to grind.
Time knows no evil, coeval is with all,
withal is none, as naught, both call, recall,
pride, fall, low, tall, slow, fast, at last remains
as silent witness, stage, play, box and stall.
Tempus fugit, Time is flying, soon we're dust,
is it dying? is it buying time? Earth's crust
plays little part forcasting lava flow
when time is up, it still observes, non-plussed.
'Festina lente', 'hasten slowly', Fate
may be amused when we'd anticipate
the way the dice is rolled a turn or two,
soon ticks off guilty temptor from gilt gate.
Trust intuition, method leads astray
where narrow will or shallow leads the way,
but channelled energy may help create,
not barter aim in mind for fame today.
Contract a link between 'pretend' 'extend',
where end to means is never means to end,
where current flow is revolts and study churn
though true solutions may seem round the bend.
Invention is extension catalyzed,
or role reversal, vistas reapprized,
what complicated seemed is later seen
as simple step towards a goal disguised.
Time's tide abides while mortal meets fate which
puts final touch to an unfinished stitch,
however phrased dust back to dust returns
spites ‘lame' excuses, game of toss and pitch.
Up tick, down toc, clock witnesses spring shoots
of causal arborescence, 'right', 'wrong' roots,
with hindsight show man unpreprepared
for Past and Future playing in cahoots.
Though rhyme and reason often are withheld
till time and season pass, their winter knelled,
true timing is essential where the mind
would tap the forces from tomorrow welled.
Who would evolve must choose from many doors,
each offers either fame or blame, doom draws,
each offers health or wealth, advance or pause,
must think the link between effect and cause.
What fame is, what is doom, though, who foresees?
What choice reject, what opportunities
take for, or take as, granted, who can tell?
Time twists or undertows the flows men seize.
What matters and to whom? What gravities
apply when anti-mater equals tease?
conundrums which a life-long paradox
entertains until all memories
are atomised upon a karmic breeze,
blown willy-nilly till, like honeyed bees,
they bumble on towards a homely hive,
they stumble on till patterns by degrees
from angles wide frame focus, offer keys.
For who between the lines can read, chalk, cheese,
discerns, the waft and weft of substance, learns
to draw the line dividing wood from trees.
Life's littleness "ist alles in die Welt",
mocks Man's ambitions, motivations melt
to watershed necrologies. Black crepe
with no escape whate'er regrets are felt.
Time's muzzle muffles boast, toast, day by day,
effects' and causes' subtle interplay
through life's incessant dream theme ebb and flow
efforts prove vain, love, pain, all's bubble bray.
None may control coincidence at play
flaking dates and energy away
while winter of our discontent's stop/go
spins into vertigo, then fades away.
Self-righteous say religion shows the way,
agnostics best of both worlds want, display
their reticence as sense, pretence as plus,
few atheists would haste to piper pay.
Most blow hot, cold, quit stage to sink unheard
before they even feel life's ripples stirred,
Time can't be reined, restrained, no string and bow,
sends arrow through entanglement preferred.
Why worry what tomorrow, if at all,
may offer, laughter share, spurning wailing wall,
each wakes one day, hopes hollow, probate proved,
few follow winding sheet, trump final call.
Time's telomeres may stretch, but sands of hope,
free ride from heyday ended, broken rope
recount lost time expended, ghost mirage,
no soft soap ever smoothes, naught soothes blind grope.
Bright spark, life's candle gutters, movements cease,
one cry, heart flutters, shutters, 'Rest in Peace! '
with no surcease, one sigh then curtains drawn
while legatees bread butter, fleece, apiece.
Youth's hopes are caught in Time's relentless vice,
what opportunity's repeated twice?
Life's joke's is on Creation's head, vibes jibed,
one innings leaves all after-thoughts to lice.
So grasp the moving finger as it writes,
wait not on Time, tune tide to timing, flights
of fancy twin with opportunity
which may not seed again. Feed dream delights!
These rhymes hold no bonanza, moral plum,
Time's trick wick tireless flickers, static hum
moves forwards egg and chicken parsec plot
as we, time-stricken, quicken final strum.
(24 October 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything Is Not Enough
It doesnt help you if you scream and shout
That isnt what this thing is all about
And do you really want to fight to win
Youre missing out and thats another sin
Your dream of power is a sacrifice
Do you really want to pay that price
Just think about it and youll change the pace
Look in the mirror tell me who do you face
Who is that?
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Nobody loves you if you moan all day
So take it easy then youll get your way
You aint no dummy and Im sure you know
You know its better if you let it go
Youre in control if you let it go
Youre feeling better when you let it flow
You never really had to catch the moon
Youre better jumping to another tune
So lets jump
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop (do, do, do it)
Ive got it all but its not enough
I keep thinking boy I feel so rough
This cant be me, Im such a happy guy
I laugh a lot but I want to cry
A cry for help is just letting go
It hurts a lot but I think I know
Its time for change I dont need the hype
Its time for change and the time is ripe
So lets go
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop...
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Open Gate, Speak Friend and Enter - 1222 - Current Version
Fair friendship, heart to heart, near, far apart,
remains unstained and omnipresent gift,
where each stays part of each to chart fresh start
to meat and to defeat hate's deadly dart,
imparting steadfast links which, à la carte,
ensures hope pure, scope sure, defies Descartes'
cold logic with warm love above schemes smart.
The need that tames the flames of inner fire
may seed ten thousand ripples, may be more.
Desire to feed the furnace of desire
creates from dust more than there was before.
Those letters [l]inked on parchment or those which
on pixel tell~tale tra[n]ce dance in the brain
may early, late, both stimulate, enrich,
cross reference, cross reference again.
Rich pitch one hears switch spheres have ever known
they knew they knew before tuned undertone
vibrating through the Universal, sown
as echo coeval with the wind thats blown
along the way as day and night advance ~
or is it coexist in parallel ~
with worlds dreams glimpse perhaps when changeling Chance
weird timeline opens till dawn's waking bell.
What counts is ways the wave bands interlink
from infra violent through the ultra read
judgmental values fade, flushed down Life's sink,
the Pattern counts, how waft and web are spread
within the flow itself should make one think
there is no past, no present, no ahead,
as Time can rhyme the span, at Man must wink ~
as [s]he's from Judge to Judgement, spinning, led.
The air we breathe with life must seethe and how
that interacts to marshal facts is strange,
coincidence may shape both 'here and now'
and still instill, fulfill, more scope, more range
without the trammels and the platitudes
which most repeat ~ both low and high ~ as each
delays, downplays unusual attitudes,
won't glow in flow with currents out of reach.
This flow is pattern icing on the cake
the poet bakes it takes the time to write,
which whirls around, spurns sight and sound to rake
no line dividing time, space, day or night.
Thus time itself appears conveyor belt
on belt 'die Welt' drives on at different speeds,
some contradictory, some helter-skelt
to feed the need to feed the need to seed
an echo which upon an unknown date
in turn may stimulate discovery
of what once known ~ unlocking open gate
calling upon the inner eye to see.
the need that tames the flames of inner fire
to seed ten thousand ripples, may be more,
desire to feed the furnace of desire
from doom creating more than bloomed before.
Thus 'friendship' - heart to heart though far apart -
remains unstained and omnipresent gift,
where each stays part of each to chart fresh start
puts emphasis on empathy, heals rift.
(16 April 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Meaning Of Our Love (Villanelle)
Maybe we cou'dn't understand the meanin' of our love or so,
Maybe we cou'dn't find each other in our world of two and
Love itself ceased to be, 'cause it had no sense o' self to glow.
Or maybe love made sense for both of us, but we didn't let it flow,
E'en we could let it flow, but we didn't give it a chance, thinkin' that
Maybe we cou'dn't understand the meanin' of our love or so.
Maybe the senses of our love were intermingled and we didn't know,
But we knew it, when we touched our angry bodies, we knew that
Love itself ceased to be, 'cause it had no sense o' self to glow.
Then, we could find our madness o' love as a big bubble growin' to blow,
A kind of madness that makes you be a drinker of your own delusions and
Maybe we cou'dn't understand the meanin' of our love or so.
But we understood the dyin' meanin' of those delusions in our life show.
They've been irreversibly dissolved into sorrow, until we're separated.
Love itself ceased to be, 'cause it had no sense o' self to glow.
Now, when we drive with time machine on the true age o' the snow,
‘Tis too late to find each other in our world of two, e'en we tried it and
Maybe we cou'dn't understand the meanin' of our love or so,
Love itself ceased to be, 'cause it had no sense o' self to glow.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So I Dance
Well I met you while we were sharing stares
from motorcars
And from there it was like a dream just coming true
The you asked if I like to dance and I said
"Not at all"
So you turned away to start the search for
someone new
Then an acetate Casanova sweeps you off your feet
Cause he dances like Michael J. meets Fred Astaire
And I desperately ask for one more chance
to be with you
And you smile at me while thinking "Yeah it's only fair"
So I dance
Dance with you
From now until you say you love me
Take a chance
Take a chance
That you'll only be thinking of me
So I dance
Well you live your whole life believing silly
fairytales
Like the King of Heart's coming down to marry you
But reality's coming fast and you feel all alone
So I hope you'll let me be the one to get you thru
So I dance
Dance with you
From now until you say you love me
Take a chance
Take a chance
That you'll only be thinking of me
So I dance
Dance with you
From now until you say you love me
Take a chance
Take a chance
That you'll only be thinking of me
So I Dance
Solo
So I dance - Dance - Dance
Well you're going out ballroom dancing
almost every night
While he's blinding you with his moves
and not a word
Then you say that if I could tango
you would have it all
So I "twist" with you and pray
I don't look too absurd
So I dance - Dance
Dance with you
From now until you say you love me
Take a chance
Take a chance
That you'll only be thinking of me
So I dance
Dance with you
From now until you say you love me
Take a chance
Take a chance
That you'll only be thinking of me
So I dance oooh
So I dance
So I dance oooh
So I dance
song performed by by Zebra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Touch
Strange seems it as we recollect
a frame in Time, through rhyme inset
to set the record straight. Regret, -
there’s none to know.
Daring chance-glance to inspect
ringless fingers, form perfect
innate enthusiasm, yet
the need to grow.
Neither immodest nor ‘starlet’,
attractive smile, sweet, yet correct,
vision dreamt on, silk bedecked –
here fast is slow.
Coincidence: profound the debt
admitted here to cause/effect,
discovering interconnect
holds meaning, so...
A split decision once upset
life course can cause us to connect
to link through karmic interject
Time adds to flow.
A magic touch two pulse-rates set
new racing record as we met
in time-frame no event could let
ourselves forget.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One More Chance
This time, gonna do my best to make it right
cant go on without you by my s hold on
shelter, come and resque me out of this storm
and out of this cold, i need some one if you see her, tell her this for me
all i need is
Hold on
Lightning about to strike in rain only on me
Hurt so bad sometime it's hard to breathe
Oh why why
If you see her
Tell her this from me
All I need is
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
one more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more chance for love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
And I would walk around this world to find her
And I don't care what it takes no
Why
I'd sail the seven seas to be near her
And if you happen to see her
See, tell her this from me
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah
One more chance at love
Tell her this from me
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
One more chance at love
I can't find
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah one more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
For love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah I can't stop
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
I can't stop
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
Aaow!
One more chance at love
I can't stop
Lovin' you...
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning
What does morning mean to me?
The chance to awaken under a cover,
the chance to awaken and see your lover,
the chance to open your eyes and know
that love is what makes your life flow.
What does morning mean to me?
The chance to breathe on a new day,
the chance to write and have my say,
the chance to listen to music I love,
the chance to take myself above
all negativity that comes my way.
What does morning mean to me?
The chance to have more time to spend,
the chance to correct my flaws and mend
all of them the best that I can,
the chance to remember how I began.
All of these morning times are great
and if they're not, it's then I await
for them to return to what they mean
and bring back my blessed morning scene.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dispense Sensation
The count down ticks, the bomb of silence
explodes against a context heretofore
all too well aware of deadlines. Law
of life is self and self-violence
beating with wild wings against Time's claw.
Time is not measured by dates sucked from its maw,
plucked by those who want more than sense,
but through the causal braid whose intense
pattern leaves all lusting for more
tolerance, misunderstandings silenced.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cusp Choice - 0548
Coincidence spins web when into place
life slips choice puzzle pieces in due time.
Flair/feeling twins awareness of fall, climb,
keys karmic scene between lines few dare face.
Dreams decode subtle signals, interface
past, present, future, patterns sees through grime,
aligning intersections, prose rerhyme.
Pace swift and slow tune into links to trace
instinctive correspondence, interlace
unique potential, untapped options prime,
deny the base which smothers in its slime,
Cause, effect, await cusp's state of grace.
"Chance" intercepts flow's waves, 'free choice' would bring
order into chaos, tune fate's [s]wing.
(15 January 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Russian Roulette
mafia code cold
rules hardship plans
mistakes life made
chance ice acted out
drama last gun hand?
catch up time credit
many last thoughts
never nerve spoken
men never broken
chance is Russian Roulette
six cylinders soul spinning
lease of life up for winning
one bullet one cylinder
time dice rolls echoes chance
ghosts haunting dance
hear sound of hand gun
unheard by sudden dead one
pink brain shoot blood run
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancin' With Myself
On the floor of Tokyo
Or down in London town to go, go
With the record selection
With the mirror reflection
I'm dancing with myself
When there's no-one else in sight
In the crowded lonely night
Well I wait so long
For my love vibration
And I'm dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself
If I looked all over the world
And there's every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself
If I looked all over the world
And there's every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
[Scat]
Dancing with myself
Dancing with myself
Dancing with myself
Dancing with myself
If I looked all over the world
And there's every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Dance
(wally bryson)
Wont you let me get to know you?
Given the time I could show you
How good it feels to be in love
Nice to have someone thinking of you
If I had the chance with you
Id ask for the last dance with you
Wed dance away into the night
Know that you shouldnt be sharing
All of those nights with your mother
Staring at you staring at her
Thinking of places you wish you were
If I had the chance with you
Id ask for the last dance with you
Wed dance away into the night
Couldnt you give me a chance for a while?
Given the time I know I could make you smile
And once you let me get to know you
And give me the time and I show you
How good it feels to be in love
At night youll have someone thinking of you
If I had the chance with you
Id ask for the last dance with you
Wed dance away into the night
When I get my chance with you
Ill make enough romance for two
Well dance away into the night
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Chance
A cold day in december
And im still here alone
I look trough my window and I surrender
Should be gone
But I have no place to go
Chorus:
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
If there were someone
Id hold her
If there was love
Id let it take me away
But I just stay here alone
Chorus:
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
I feel nothing I feel no pain
I feel no joy nor hurt inside
I only have myself to blame
If I see that the worlds passed me by
Chorus:
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
Last chance to get up
Last chance to go
Last chance to get up and go
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unlimited Reflections - 0848 - Current Version
Here follows an anthology to bring
enjoyment true, one world view versed in rhyme,
unlimited reflections over time
matured by mind whose searching soul would sing,
nursing ambitions empathy should string,
except most care not, - neither nickle, dime.
Listen to intuition's bells' strong chime
imprinting echo etched on soul, whose ring
may never fail, to nothing fade. Time's sting
outcast as shared experiences climb
up past extrapolations vague, masqued mime.
Just twenty six swift soldiers' ink link lines
recast lead die, redrawing causal signs.
(4 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty - 1677 - Current Version
The poet's lyre afire responds to braid
heart's comfort to art's artistry at play
Truth Beauty, Beauty Truth John Keats would say -
Endymion - reflection which won't fade.
Beauty through the eye's beholder made
an echo of eternity which may
shine well beyond the veil where night and day
frame shadow-shapes that slip away, afraid.
Beyond time's rhyme shines Beauty as obeyed
are pattern codes diverse as snowflakes fey,
each unique however short their stay,
yet each to each conjoined as love, light weighed
Between life's lines as silk skein all adore,
Beauty's theme whose waves wash timeless shore.
Modest maiden bashful blinks,
blushing beauty cream the rose
regrets for envy's icy snows
cannot compete with light that links
across time lines as life-force flows
to ransom Time while Brahma winks.
Beauty spans life's cycle spinning through
word, deed, and act, both outer, inner, form,
may, drawn though space, enchant, and thus inform
the common mortal magic must ring true.
Beauty spirals through straight lines to cue
into life's circus circle, shine and storm,
night, day, rest play, surpass codes cuniform.
All may show glow's flow, flow's glow, renew
kaleidscope eternal which we knew
we knew before, will after know, as norm
is superceded by sensations warm
that swarm within, outside sin, rise, fall, coup
de grâce as grace folds mantle over all
reflection, echoes soul's perfection call.
(15 November 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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