Related quotes: BUD FREE! BEYOND YE BOND...

Bud Free - Anagram Acrostic

BUD FREE!

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! shed all disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off, REEF FREE dark skies.
Knit I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
ROSE, SORE, RETWINS, WINTERS defies.
IN ONE I NONE FILE LIFE. Arise!
STREAM MASTER – HEART ART HE supplies
The SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
Your WOLF’S growl grows FLOWS fertilize.
PART is a TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
In knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it dies.
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies,
Vocation EVIL VILE denies, -
END Lion’s DEN, REEF FREE, cease sighs
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL off past lies....
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

5 April 2005
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Initial version of Serve Verse 12 April 2005
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Bud Free poem © Jonathan Robin

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SERVE VERSE!

BUD FREE IN TIME, SHAPE YOUR HEART'S VISION THROUGH VERSE

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! PROD, DROP disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off REEF, FREE dark skies.
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies.
ITEM EMIT for as TIME flies
No MITE, POOL LOOP, personnifies
The DEW WED, so NODE DONE advise
IT RIPS the SPIRIT – so scribe’s highs
May LOWS SLOW link, revise.
Easy WOLF FLOW satisfies.
Splice I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
HEART'S ARTS HE MASTERS STREAMS supplies
As SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
PART STALE TALE's TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
Each THREAD - no DEARTH - needs systemize
You EDIT TIDE DIET DEED despise
Objections COLD CLOD compromise.
URGES SURGE FROM FORMal guise,
REACT, TRACE NOW WON OWN enterprise.
He who GUIDES IS in DISGUISE
Each GENIC ZERO RECOGNIZE -
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise -
Response to dark INSURES SUNRISE!
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
Sometimes it OVERSIMPLIFIES
Verse low for LO IMPs IMPROVISE
IDEAS ASIDE on SITE link TIES -
Some POLEMICS, where one COMPLIES
In ONE COMPILES, NEO BUSY BUYS,
Or, FACE ITS SIN it SANCTIFIES
Naught - for I SIMPLE e'er IMPLIES
The rhyme IS SUPPLE and SUPPLIES
Here sharing and 'I SCREED' DECRIES.
Rubbish IT CHASES to CHASTISE
Or TEACH not CHEAT, through verse RITES TRIES
Uses INTACT, IN TACT rectifes,
Good SIRE, to RISE above weak cries.
Here knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it flies -
Vocation EVIL, VILE, denies.
END prison DEN, let VERSE SERVE guys!
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL fast past lies...
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

12 April 2005
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Serve Verse! poem © Jonathan Robin

Revised version of Bud Free!
5 April 2005 robi03_1150_robi03_0000 AQX_EIJ
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poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Serve Verse - Anagram Acrostic - Bud Free in Time, Shape Your Heart's Vision Through Verse

_____________________

Bud Free!

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever before Never

FOREVER BEFORE NEVER

Beneath stone slab forever lies
broker who could not devise
a way to pass on – sympathise! -
Rights Called when Death culled by surprise
And early Options exercised.
For him, for yours, bore worm supplies
answer unsought ‘neath sunny skies.
Bond Issues G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycle Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
Instructive Income, Prime rate wise
is Bonus gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Enjoy the day, before one dies,
life’s love true Love intensifies.
Insurance under in any guise
ignored is once will’s parchment dries.
Fee Contract, contact free, belies
fragility, no fortune buys
eternity when dock denies
soul’s sole appeal as none arise
when life’s Foreclosed, or rectifies
Mortgage Debenture - too late for cries
adventure over, severed ties.
Skeletal sods like last goodbyes
few mortals care to recognize
for Time forever forwards flies.

23 April 1990 revised 11 February 2009
robi03_0308_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ

for previous version entitled On a Stockbroker see below

On a Stockbroker

Beneath this slab forever lies
a broker who could not devise
a way to pass on (sympathise) ,
the Rights that Death would exercise.
An thus it is the worm supplies
a Bond which G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycling Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
An Income of instruction wise
is offered gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Seek to enjoy, before one dies,
the love that Love intensifies,
assistance under in any guise
offer free beneath these skies
for Time forever forwards flies.

23 April 1990

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homerun

HOMERUN
From dark to light – one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, – strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.

Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won’t sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.

See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves – each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf’s demise.

Men, weak “how, what, when, why”
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame’s flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can’t buy.

Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.

Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies, -
dare not, with rules comply, -
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.

Life’s voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize -
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! ... Why?

Tide turns, Time’s spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, - rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply...
from light to dark, sole sigh.

9 February 2005
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Homerun Poem © Jonathan Robin
see also Homespun
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HOMESPUNBirth Mirth Worth Girth Dearth Earth Berth

From dark to light – one cry, homespun.
Cot, tot, fine whine, youth vies at last
to rise, to shine, – strength tries so fast
to test itself far, nigh, to run
above the common sty or scrum,
tries stratagems devised to cast,
with sun at zenith high, shade vast, ...
ignores Time fleeting by. The sum?
Who fools are, who are wise, succumb.
Who true, who in disguise, outlast
the dreaded drum’s surprise, stand fast
can further innings try? Soon dumb!
Come night, tomb stark, done, lie forgot, – time spun
From light doom dark one sigh, poor lot, – rhyme done!

20 January 2005
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see also Homerun
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Homes pun Poem © Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poets Improvise

Pardon this poem's tale, warp w[r]it it be,
Old mind aims meets, binds word games into gear.
Ever scanned art, we let wise thoughts come clear,
Their end to share here, setting spirit free.
Some see spun verse with risibility.
I through revealed art relink lines sincere
Motifs realigning show in masked mots here, -
Pleasure discover in jest play, planned key.
Run round rhyme lines, read riddle's energy
Opens up house, home, renews one’s cheer.
Voyage take, see thread wed verse appear
In enchanted ave twine, idyll see!
So rhyme dare meet, as all bestirs joy's pleasure
NET treasure to men awe, as we spend leisure

© Jonathan Robin Polyacrostic wrriten 12 September 2005 and revised 3 June 2007
external acrostic: Poets Improvise
internal acrostics
ABLE WAS I ERE I SAW ELBA
Poets Improvise
HANDS HEED HANDS
TREASURE PLEASURE MEASURE

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homerun - 1060

From dark to light one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.

Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won't sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.

See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves, each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf's demise.

Men, weak 'how, what, when, why'
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame's flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can't buy.

Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.

Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies,
dare not, with rules comply,
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.

Life's voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize,
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! Why?

Tide turns, Time's spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply.
from light to dark, sole sigh.

(9 February 2005)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Timely Open Book

An attractive pair of eyes
of almond aspect, startling size,
sparkle with suggestive look
to signal “I’m an open book”
to which all welcome are who, wise,
rise, meet sweet challenge, find replies
the overhasty overlook.
Moreover, who their minds mistook
face value take where their own lies
make mirror image, dark disguise,
soon blot their ego's copybook -
self image wage, page books may cook.

From downturned mouth to upturned nose
verse flows until this tale we close.

22 June 2005 revised 5 December 2008

robi03_1286_robi03_0000 SXX_JLX

for previous version entitled Open Book see below

Open Book

An attractive pair of eyes
of almond aspect, startling size,
sparkle with suggestive look
to signal “I’m an open book”
to which all welcome are who, wise,
rise, meet the challenge, find replies
that overhasty overlook,
while those face value take mistook
are where they make for their own lies
a mirror image, dark disguise –
and thus soon blot their copybook...

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life - 1240 - Initial Version

Life comes and goes as fortune flows
It never knows what cause it sows
For cycle slows or speeds, and those
Effects wind blows truth seldom shows.

Like April snows regrets melt: rose
In May soon glows to blossom grows,
Fling sorrow's bows and arrows, woes
End now, and close Time's book, compose

Lines which oppose all sadness owes
In verse or prose no debt - transpose
Free soul which chose as joy arose.
Expose nor woes nor hope foreclose.

LIfe shadows swallows, overthrows,
FEels rose row grows for soul's repose.

(April 19 2005)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skin Deep

Skin spurns trite superficiality,
Kinship finds as surfaces disperse.
Intuitive, two rhyme and role reverse
Nature's comfort zones, free verse heart's plea.
Seasons and Time shed, sensitivity
Knowledge hard discards, hope can converse
In touch with touch for such much growth may nurse,
New light affords, cuts cords, as tendrils key
Subtly into each other - 'you' IS 'me'.
Karmic chance retracts roadblocks transverse,
Intact tact, tactile joys may reimburse
Numb days awaiting electricity.
SKIp through formal constraints to contact base,
INsights unite, may man-maid rings replace...

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As A New Road Opens Now 1156

As April with her showers sweet prepares the ground for Summer [w]heat,
A mother, Beauty's mirror, here for verses calls, both far and near.
Response from heart not art shines clear as verse verse follows, all do steer
One theme, one dream, 'Let all compete to make his day with joy complete! '
New stanza flows to stanza greet upon the screen where thrones love's seat.
Al good things wishing for this year which marks a turning point, frontier
A long the way as little man emerges from the toss and cheer,
'Run, now its bedtime, you're dead beat' a greater challenge new to meet,
On schools, why rules, why not to cheat, learning, earning. Litte feet
New legs find, steady, as Time, fleet, advances, strong grow, changing gear,
As worries, fears shall disappear, as youth flows on now April's here!
A shining light turns all austere to friendship, joy, and love sincere,
Rings of laughter bright sing clear as birthday brings treat after treat.
One road you start with smile so neat may bless blue eyes, in birthday signed,
No tears shall flow, none fears shall know, no thoughts unkind.

(7 April 2005)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - A Tribute

As tribute paid to time may this come clear
Uniformly in unsought surprise
Pen on paper no pattern spots, these ties
Interactive spinning tight, austere.
A pleasure hand has threaded bright idea
in thoughts using inset input, tries
Simple play pieces, satisfies soul's sighs, -
A startling insight art alone supplies.
None thread and read in one light verse sincere.
Nature set I in merry manner here
Expectant as these rhymed line flows appear.

26 May 2005 see below for alternative version

Anne Aupiais 3 x vertically and twice diagonally
A Tribute_19920721_As tribute paid to time may this come clear ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0362_robi3_0000 BXX_IXX

A tribute I lay at your door and pray
United we find ways to understand, -
Pen and ink unlimited expand
Interactively in every way.
A great need appears to grow each day
In a soul who uses words at hand,
Simply puts pieces in a jigsaw band,
And, yet, will, in the end, find truth's bright ray.
No other may as much as this display
Noble mind. I in these lines here stand
Expectant as I wait your smile today.

21 July 1992
Anne Aupiais 2 x vertically and once diagonally

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autobiograpical Poem

I am a simple poem,
It's plain for all to see.
No haiku, limerick or sonnet,
Just simple rhyme for me.

I'm on my second verse just now,
So soon it will be three.
Uncomplicated, very plain,
So easy, Oh! so free.

There are no causes I espouse,
For nothing I campaign,
I do not speak of love or lust,
I never speak of pain.

Some people say that I'm just words,
They don't know how I thrive.
I tell them I am born each day,
I'm very much alive.

I'm winding down towards the end,
Just another verse to go,
I've avoided all controversy,
I just went with the flow.

So here I am, sixth verse at last,
It's still plain for all to see
That if you keep it simple
You'd be a poem just like me!

poem by Joe Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Rhyming Man

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.

I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.

You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme

poem by Francis Duggan
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Free verse

I want to write always in free verse
In free verse there is no pressure.

I do not want to keep any goal
I really do not want any roll
I also do not want to play any role.

I want to see this earth free from hunger
Free from poverty and I do not want to
keep anybody within an artificial boundary.

I want to write always in free verse
I want to move freely from place to place
To see people in various glaze.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetic Standard

Poetic inspiration must supply
Open sourced resourcefulness, may not
Exist in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
That holds back harmony from inner eye.
Insidious compromise can't satisfy
Creative impulse that rejects as blot
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Tired lines block, lock life's vista, dreams deny.
All hesitation acts out living lie
None should accept to temper daily rot,
Dread time-trap snapped shut once one bolt is shot.
Aloft soar, draw from intuitions, fly!
Read much, hunch heed, rise from rant's rubbish vent,
Dare to revise, creative dance invent.

Skein poetic weaves life's leaves. Flash wink
Turns think through ink to stage fulfilling page
As insight mixes music, words wild, sage.
No Tao is tainted that cues tone-true link
Descriptive and instructive, scanned in sync.
Although some self-styled poets feel form's cage,
Review Stravinsky's words, all doubts assuage.
Deny blank prose poetic rose crown. Drink
Pierian deep, sip not lip-service brink,
Or compensate for feelings trapped to wage
Ego war against injustice guaged,
To ease maimed spirit's claims of unfair stink.
Inside poetic process progress make,
Craft well, rewrite, reword from second take.

6 September 2009 robi3_1908_robi3_0845 ASX_IXX
Acrostic Sonnet POETIC STANDARD STANDARD POETIC
See notes and related poems below
__________________
Pierian Spring

The Pierian Spring from greek mythology is held the metaphorical source of knowledge about the arts and science. Pieria, ancient Macedonia, was the location of Mount Olympus, the seat of worship of Orpheus and the Muses. The spring is believed to be a fountain of knowledge that inspires whoever drinks from it.

Alexander Pope - Essay on Criticism

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.

______________

'The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees oneself of the chains that shackle the spirit... the arbitrariness of the constraint only serves to obtain precision of execution.' Igor Stravinsky

_____________________

Poetic Inspiration

Poetic inspiration must not tarry,
dry up, discouraged, over-analyse.
Expectations entertained help carry
message deep to conquer Time which flies.
There is no cause to dam perceptions, parry
questions put, those jealousy implies
to force reaction where response should marry
all to all, - no need to temporize.
Refute temptation, motives mercenary,
yet neither 'look too good, nor talk too wise’.

Before vague interferences the mind
distorts, today’s perceptions twists, heart tries
to focus clearly, insight redefined
and shares impressions' pulse which never dies
while magic taps into soul’s spring to bind
into emotions each identifies
mundane events transformed, sense underlined
with Jericho's walls fallen, fear defies.
Transcending formal fetters much maligned
inspiration loves to improvise.

Through intuition lucky few may find
such inspiration free verse seldom tries
to pin down, qualify, or predefine.
All limits disappear as 'hows? and whys? '
loose, lose, restrictions, innate truth unwind.
Across dimensions musing spirit flies,
base substance shed, trite trammels left behind,
as gravity dissolves, - no lows, no highs -
as meanings are decoded, intertwined
in ink which links 'I think', 'you feel', 'we rise'.

Exacting standards which sustain no blot,
must overcome doubts day to day supplies,
quit half-life half-light, cut the gordian knot
of form to swarm above what satisfies
secondary lot where those forgot,
who blindly rules obey, life lose. Surprise
lights eyes so seldom as progressive rot
sets in, skin deep or masked by dark disguise,
accepts trip’s time-trap trigger, its bolt shot.
Yet inspiration no rules justifies.

Scorning hesitation’s living lies,
which dew drops gathered from forget-me-not
ignore, or leave untouched, passed by with sighs,
informed awareness reaches out from what
seems insignificance, can recognize
energies innate, taste cold and hot,
to spurn self-satisfaction’s compromise, -
small slots refutes - for most the daily lot -
tendrils intangibles to realize
inner joy tease crosses, eyes may dot.

1 October 2005 revised 4 April 2008 robi3_1310_robi3_0845 XXX_EIJ
for previous version see below

Poetic Inspiration

Poetic inspiration must not tarry,
dry up, discouraged, over-analyse.
Expectations entertained help carry
message deep to conquer Time which flies.
There is no cause to dam perceptions, parry
questions put or those envy implies
to force reaction where response should marry
all to all, no need to temporize.
Refute temptation, motives mercenary,
‘and yet not look too good, nor talk too wise’.

Exacting standards which can stand no blot,
overcome doubts daily life supplies,
won’t live in half-light, cut the gordian knot
of form to swarm above what satisfies
secondary lot where those forgot,
with rules obeyed, convictions fade. Surprise
lights eyes so seldom as progressive rot
sets in, skin deep or masked by dark disguise,
accepts trip’s time-trap trigger, its bolt shot.

Scorning hesitation’s living lies,
dew drops gathered from forget-me-not,
informed awareness reaches out to touch
apparent insignificance, relies
not on self-satisfaction’s compromise, -
open to intangible, mines much,
sustaining promise, spurning formal ties.
Refuse small slot - for most the daily lot. 1 October 2005

____________

Living Lie

Poetic inspiration can’t run dry,
expectations entertains, cannot
live in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
dividing consciousness from inner eye.
No compromises ever satisfy
exacting standards that reject as blot,
secondary lot where, half forgot,
convictions pale are held to not apply.
Hesitation is a living lie
most men accept to ease their daily rot,
time-trap snapped shut once only bolt is shot.
Try who will, few still find wings to fly.
Thus when two meet, see differences dissolve,
empathy Earth’s mysteries may solve.

20 June 1997 revised 26 November 2006 robi3_0845_robi3_0000 SXX_IKX
for previous version see below – previous title Hesitations are a Living Lie

Hesitation is a Living Lie

He whose inspiration won’t run dry
Expectations entertains, cannot
Live in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
Encompassing the spirit’s inner eye.
No compromises here can satisfy
Exacting standards which accept no blot,
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Convictions fade, men fondest hopes deny.
Hesitations are a living lie
Most men accept to ease their daily rot.
It is a time-trap. Once the bolt is shot
Try who will, few find the wings to fly.
Thus when two meet, see differences dissolve,
Harmony Earth’s mysteries can solve.

20 June 1997

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear, Dare A Red Read - Polyacrostic

Jingle verse enjoy. In reversed jest
our game is hid - no orchestra in song, -
no signature, as no fit, link, strung strong
and taut traced are, for few see game addressed.
The care of each theme's wording to the test
here is pulled sharper. Read each line. Along
a web admired, placed true, is set among
new net mix dear. Note our name as none guessed.
Reach soul. Oh dare to free the thread expressed!
Over all sweet sound ends work to link, belong, -
bestirring can be. If thought inbinding's wrong
its warp reread in fairness, shriven guest!
Nut/kernel plan none smirk at, sense contest.
Judge, smile, and joy glean from a jest red blessed.

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dare She?

Some sentiments destabilize
when inner thoughts through other eyes
by magic pen may formalize.
Perhaps, despite protective sighs,
hope lies ahead, helps shed disguise?

Tight rope walk from walled citadel,
beset by fears Time can’t dispel,
sits one who may have loved too well, -
emotions dares nor share nor tell,
lest betrayal breach hope's shell.

Stands, reflects with much surprise,
upon commitment’s even ties, -
scarred by a past which “self” denies,
scared behind sweet sparkling eyes, -
lest she should lose herself, fair prize.

Is real from drawbridge cusp choice free
or reel rewound where wounds may be
reopened although memory
real_I_tease would hide, - stiff fee
to pay for ransomed soul at sea.

Reality may coincide
with dreams when two, as one allied,
advance together, prospects wide
embrace with motives bona fide
face future fearless, side by side,
all former errors rectified.

Fate scoops hope's bottle from life's sea -
half-full? half-empty? - destiny
plays games with will, reality.
Combine, merge, urge purge, splurge surge, key
into choice voice, rejoice, set free.

For 'what will be' can't stay inside
time genie's bottle, chance denied,
must scene tranlate to act, play ride
from start through end as plot supplied
threads to conclusion which may guide
fresh start for heart wait's weight defied.

Careful, fearful, fitful, she
herself seems her worst enemy,
seeks protection, amity.
What controls her destiny?
dare she let go, for once not flee?

Maybe its time to realize
that though fleet Time so swiftly flies
compromise can’t circumsize
future options that arise
to offer comforting replies.

She, where others buy and sell,
for silver pawn their souls to Hell,
sheltered beneath protective shell, -
more flirt on call than siren bell
though on hid softness fond thoughts dwell.

Who’d wish her heart he satisfies,
may seek HER truth where most, less wise,
confide blind trust to logic’s lies…
In harmony hope's answer lies,
shared peace, that love alone supplies.

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Free Verse

I admire all the aims of Free Verse,
‘tis explicit in all that I do
in shaping the stress to converse
with a rhyme-scheme restricted to two.

That I stay with this number is true, -
a linguistic abuse, maybe worse,
how it weighs and encumbers the view! -
but French art needs its aid, though perverse.

Else the Muse would be dumb to a curse,
for to accent, the lingo’s deaf too, -
though what can one do? All’s averse
to fantasy rhyme calls on cue!

May Free Verse’s aims bring joy unto
the young sparks who chance meanings coerce -
whose mental gymnastics’ fun value
is the fire to inspire hopes they’d nurse.

They’re young colts who green pastures traverse
with gravity worthy their virtue,
though mad they’re superb, and no hearse
they’d inherit! Free Verse tempts! You too?

poem by Paul Verlaine, translated by Jonathan Robin
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Impulse - 1140 - Initial Version

Beyond the heartache and the dark
lush echoes of the [s]winging lark,
while distillation purifies
hushed moonshine seen through sharing eyes.

Beyond the throttle thread, then hark
to thrush's rush, let anguish stark
from dust to dust itself supplies
return, as shared emotions rise.

Beyond all stares segmented park
predispositions unkind, mark
of Christmas Past imprinted. Wise
is [s]he who comes to realize
what's sought beyond thought may be found,
what's caught is freed when fond waves sound.

(3 April 2005)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Requiem I - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem

Through the artificial flowers
let me slide when all my powers
have passed as pass man’s mortal hours,
and let me burn.

Spurn graven verses for my head,
spade not the body laid, instead,
as I’ll no longer look ahead
book me no urn.

robi03_0795_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ

Requiem II

From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
set free who sad lived, glad the page
turns uniting night to day.

Crave no rave elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here actor lies in heart arrest
retractions over his clay.

© Jonathan Robin – written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem revised 25 December 2009
robi03_0796_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
for previous version see below

Requiem II

In a dark, unwholesome cage
let me fret and seethe in rage,
sadly I’ve lived and glad the page
turns uniting night and day.

Rave no crude elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here lies life’s actor under arrest
with a tractor over his clay.

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me
Here he lies where he long’d to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 - 1894

Requiem

Under the free and open sky,
There let me rest, nor breathe a sigh, -
Gladly I’ve lived, and gladly I’ll lie,
Content by night and day.

Grave no rude tombstone to mark my rest;
But deep in your soul may you say with zest;
“Here is the Seeker after his Quest,
And the Actor after the Play.”

Hamish Mann 1896 – 1917 A Subaltern’s Musings: 1918

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Free Verse or Prose

Sadly, to me
This thing they call Prose
Is naught but just talk,
And often verbose;
I think it's too easy
And honestly, I'm
Just wanting to say
I much prefer rhyme.

And almost the same is the
Form called Free Verse,
It isn't for me, I'm not keen,
And what's worse:
Explaining the differences
Should be a breeze,
But even amongst the 'experts'
No one agrees.

Now I'm no academic
But I won't be fooled
By the 'cleverer' people,
By the so-called, 'well-schooled';
I favour good rhyming
O'er Free Verse or Prose,
And I'm calling to mind now
The Emperor's New Clothes.

poem by John Carter Brown
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