Chapter and Verse 1023 - Current Version
Chapter and verse in sonnet setting here
have sought to recognize beyond all speech
effects and causes, time-lines over-reach,
encapsulating thoughts as they appear.
Words inked together in attempt sincere
to link youth to maturity may breach
distances so all evolve to teach
themselves to learn from others, spirit clear,
crystalline, to thought-waves tuned, to steer
ideas along chord patterns chorded - each
enabled [not empowered, not to preach].
Understanding overcomes false fear.
Emotions, once interpreted, translate
into emancipation, share, create.
(21 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Words Woven - Parody Mary BEULEY - Words Woven
Words woven into speech
soon reach
intact thread spirit of each act,
knit warp and weft of wit wish fact,
dreams' tapestry may teach.
Words express essentials,
transmit, unwind
from mind to mind,
address ideas which, blind,
would grope for means to equate
sensations refined,
coarse, sophisticate.
Thus they incarnate
emotion's multi coloured coat, pattern twist
around ideas which form,
unform,
inform or disinform,
or take by storm
precisely or by gist
the geist soul kissed.
Words woven into speech
pen hand,
when scanned
from thoughts’ life blood leach
emotions, sense, dressed to suit
points phallic and points mute,
ideo-grand!
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY 1837_1916 written 12 December 1995 – Words Woven revised 31 July 2008 notably first verse below
Words woven into speech
soon reach
to knit the spirit of each act,
the warp and weft of every fact,
through dreams to teach.
______________
Words Woven
Words woven into rhyme
In time
Become a tapestry of thought
A canvas of experience in which
Our dreams are wrought.
Words are the evidence of what goes on
communicate
Within the mind.
They clothe the invisible
With robes of speech,
Sophisticated as silk,
Homespun as hessian,
And in between
The many-patterned, many-textured range,
Familiar and strange,
Of words -
Woven and dyed and spun
For Fun
Or seriously aware
Of what is there.
Words woven into rhyme
Or prose
Transpose
Giving the tiny embryo of thought
A dress to wear, most delicately wrought,
And caught for ever in a form know
And understand.
Mary BEULEY 1837_1916
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY written 12 December 1995
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pattern Patter Down Pat
Patterns form from harmony as verse
Attempts translation of emotions' span
To teach, to reach, to leach words' worlds, to fan
The essence of poetics and rehearse
Essential feelings crafted in lines terse.
Rare care, share sense, spare no expense to ban
Needless screed as witless also-ran
Empty ego's petty prose, immerse
Depth giving strange change range, fop's sops disperse.
Vantage point: holistic perspective scan,
Empower imagination's dripping pan.
Revise, re-draw, re-edit, intersperse
Strong rhythm, alliteration, stay on track
Expressing ideas ideally, pattern pack.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Prismatic Appraisal
Stop, look, and listen, imprint glistens, see
words wire taut, well caught, of themselves require
standards unset, spontaneous, to be -
though goal unsought - far from the crowd's mud mire.
Let dropp by dropp from inspiration's tree
pearl down to crown rhyme, rhythm all admire,
encapsulate amber eternity
to time-trap thoughts, acts, objects, free from ire.
One stores verse story's glory in the mind,
retinal rainbow stimulating each
synaptic link both in and out of reach, -
display whose ray may play before, behind.
Word flow sensations sows and by degree,
can catalyze a metamorphic fire
as empathy extends its energy
incandescent, lends dimensions higher
to time and space and place which, falling free,
rise to surprise and stimulate the lyre.
Time loses its accustomed hierarchy
thus finite frontiers, limits soon expire.
In context crystalline we find outlined
prismatic tones some play, which more may teach
than meets the eye, contact points combined,
with ease - these inner inhibitions breach.
Words flow where none could know they'd go, - no key
is needed where there's no directive spire,
no cue restrictive, new priority
in depth is found, ground falls away, kite flyer
spins toplike, fights against Earth's gravity
reintegrates new levels which aspire
to spread, to wed when seedbed cavity
spores explode, explore, more growth inspire.
Words flow, emotions echo, each assigned
its place to interaction trace where speech
is often too restrictive, predefined, -
thought modes aligned, too taut one must impeach.
Words taught, untaught, exchanged, are vector we
extend from passing trend as minds enquire,
as echoes through blue organ flue flow free
or meanings ancient bend to suit soul's choir
in harmony, or melting melody,
or raven caw reacting to some liar,
cabalist, hermetic, open key,
energy decoding deep desire.
So verse to verse responds spontaneous
to take up arms against a troubled seed,
to laugh with, never at unless some cuss,
to read behind the lines for more to read…
These featured points outline one Poet's view
though points, when featured, comments draw too few
1029 14 November 2003 and 8 August 2007
(28 March 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Once more unto the [B]Reach, Dear Friends
Once more extend your reach, fair friend, revise!
None who on laurels stand can raise praised bay,
Charm birds from trees however hard pen tries,
Enraptured, keep time's creeping lines at bay.
Moreover meaning may with each revision
Open more windows, clearer writer link
Reader who shows often indecision,
Ease seeks through white write black and blue true [th]ink.
Unto the breach once more, make mind outreach,
Nuances shading, fading froth away,
Turning potter's wheel words' clay to teach
Oncoming generations of their Way.
THE gem, once polished, one more chance deserves,
REACH out, revise, streamline rhyme's sinews, curves.
[c] Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet ONCE MORE UNTO THE REACH written 8 June 2008 robi3_1390_robi3_0000 AWX_IXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I am Filled with Emotions
I am filled of emotions taking more thoughts,
The crowd hears them, cool and calming;
My anger besets, my oration is here,
The words that seem to be loved are heard.
My thoughts are now words that are loved,
Love is a very wise thing, I look at some of the emotions
With a precise understanding, filling the mind.
Hear love enfold you, with faster actions
Create stations of thought and save the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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First sonnet
These words, they just wont come out of my head.
They stay deep down inside, where i can't reach.
I feel as if my mind has now gone dead.
These thoughts, i just cant hold, i want to screech!
You want me to write you a just sonnet,
but i cant think of what to say to you.
All i can think of is the word bonnet,
because its the only rhyme i can do.
if you want a better sonnet than this.
Then so help me, cause i don't have a clue.
do you think of my sonnet as amiss?
or are these thoughts down in my head adieu?
Will these ideas in my mind now leave?
So then i ask when will i be relieved?
poem by Brianna Perreira
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Many Can Teach Few Can Write
many can teach and be good teachers
some even aspiring excellent teachers
but few can image write wondrous words
who are now waiting among
those who have words worth writing
words waiting to be written?
writing will cost much
demanded much
then will cost yet more
a small fortune in wages
wages spent not made
still to be spent and yet
accumulative cost is nothing
for there are hunger hearts
minds waiting for these words
looking even searching
for quest sought words
therefore it matters not
if for a specific poem
or passage paragraph
only a few or one is searching
these thoughts
are important
still must be written
some of what we write
even much of what we write
is of no prime importance
but that small portion
which is important
that tiny potent seed
which is important
must be written
translate many can translate
some even translate
almost perfectly precise
but those writing
original thoughts
are far more precious
and their words
will also in their time
be sought after read
but there time is not yet
that which is not
written cannot
be read
therefore write
write
and write well
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Patterns
Patterns all around you
Patterns everywhere
Patterns of behavior
Sometimes seem unfair
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Patterns unfamiliar
Patterns lead you through (to)
Patterns of discovery
Tracing out the clues
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Stuck in your mind
In this land where stability is hard to find
You can rearrange the patterns so unkind
Dont bother asking why a pattern never cries
Old patterns never die they just go on and on
Patterns multiplying
Re-direct our view
Endless variations
Make it all seem new
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weigh Words’ Worth
Weigh well worth of wide vocabulary
Empowering experiences rich,
Intense at times, at times with playful pitch -
Gambol space to trace thoughts fair and free.
However, weight and size of words may be
Wor[l]ds apart when into sense we’d stitch
Or knit together floating concepts which
Represent the seed the knowledge tree
Dreams roots need to reach maturity.
Sage phrases softly shaded may bewitch,
Where letters lengthy linked lose touch, so hitch
Onto emotion’s star, provide true key.
Read and rehearse more than verse second hand, -
THoughts flow through words which share tuned hearts’ wave band.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Steer through this ocean of emotion, which is your own creation
You are on an ocean
And on a small boat
Exclusively for you
You the lone passenger
You know what all could be there down under
The vast expanse of water
The marine life
Its varieties
Their beauties, strengths
And even their wild behaviours
You know also the
Great hidden treasure
At the bottom of the seabed
But you are always worried
About how to go about
Reaching the invisible shore
And you do not know
How far it is and in
Which direction
Rising waves raise fears in you
The unseen big marine animals down under
Occupy your thoughts
And threaten your very existence
There is shine
There is shower
There is cold
There is storm
But, you need to stick on
And to proceed till the time
You reach the shore
You are unaware of the
Nature of the shore
Where you will be landing
And in what shape
The above is the description
Of birth and death cycle
In Oriental thinking
The ocean personifies
The emotional turbulence
That occurs in you life through
Emotions are as strong as ocean
And they have the powers
To sustain livelihood
To create and to destroy as well
A check on emotions
Is the way you steer through
The ocean of life
Nurse those emotions, which are
Creative, proactive and productive
And do away with those
Which can drown you
And can be destructive
Seeking divine assistance
For safe landing on the shore
Is what these philosophies preach
Orienting yourself towards
Spirituality and self realization
Help you perform worldly duties
Without emotions
But, with passion and devotion
Steer through this
Ocean of emotion, which is
Your own creation
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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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
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Lucy
L ucy ‘Light’ may signify
U ntrammelled wings which soar to breach
C louds grey, distressing, through fog’s reach
Y earned for harmony. The “Why”
L inks to the “How”, can quantify
U nreached ambitions letting each
C ause, effect, combine to teach
Y our spirit patience to defy
L ost time and find true wings to fly.
U nderstanding needs no speech,
C onvictions stores though others leech,
Y et tunes into emotions high.
LU ck turns, as Ethan, too, evolves
CY cles spin, Life problems solves...
10 June 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sharing
SHARING
Emotions pooled through message simple, clear
empathy extend, blend double heart
finding behind the lines joy’s world apart -
no challenge for the sake of challenge here.
Creative thinking helps both persevere
openly, free from artificial art.
Arrogance, intolerance, which chart
shipwreck sure, are absent as, sincere,
touching trust, whatever course they steer,
is manifest, sails to safe port where part
and whole are won, minds common aims impart.
Time, distance, fade as frontiers disappear.
Structure is not stricture when our verse
evokes shared image timeless two rehearse.
4 August 2004 revised 22 October 2008
robi03_1047_robi03_0000 SXX_LXX
for previous version see below
Sharing
Emotions pooled through simple message clear
empathy extend to warm the heart
which seeks behind the lines a world apart -
no challenge for the sake of challenge here.
Creative thinking helps the mind appear
open, free from artificial art.
Arrogance, intolerance, which chart
shipwreck sure, are absent as, sincere,
the reader’s touched whatever course [s]he’d steer
through trust towards a harbour safe where part
and whole are won, which common aims impart.
Time, distance, fade as frontiers disappear.
Structure is not stricture when the verse
evokes shared image, timeless to rehearse
4 August 2004
Poem Sharing © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Through the artists eyes
The world reflected
In the authors eyes
Shall be as beautiful or tragic
As the emotions interpreted
In the verse of the inspired
Flowing almost timeless
A world beyond what’s real
A fantasy often shared
The dream interpreted
By the words which flow
A tale may be woven
Or a thought put into place
By the words when spoken
Through the artists eyes
How the world is seen
Can be more beautiful
Or more heartbreaking
When written
Through the artists eyes
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Pictures
The thoughts in my head are about as certain as the weather
I always want them witty but they don’t come out…
Like that
And I gotta go back to the drawing board, sharpen my pencil
Cause I can’t buy metaphors
Like I can buy stencils
So the sand keeps falling 'til my mind is all clear
And ideas stop spinning
Like I’m drunken off of beer
Then I stare and I leer in the direction of nothing
Soon ugly comparisons look
Like that little duckling
The swan looks great but must still fly to paper
And stick...
Nah that’s too easy, I’ll think of something later
An hour has passed and I see the top half of the glass
I’ve got two good lines now
But I’ll save ‘em for last
What I need is some inspiration
That’ll get the ball rollin’
From still frames to animation
Now the feature’s goin’
*This is a peek, a sneak look around
On how I take my thoughts and process them down
From a thousand different pictures with one thing in common
This is how I translate the world that I’m in
I can hear the sound effects and see the movie playing
Cross out words like an editor
As my lead gets to slaying
Every single word that’ll make you think twice
Like an anagram racecar throwin’ snake eyes?
Now the sands reverse with the opposite effect
And I see every line
Like it’s satellite direct
That’s how my thoughts beam down
Didn’t mean to barrage ya
But these words are my own
Kind of like Natasha
poem by P.R. Prosper
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
24.04.2006
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Verses Wrought
I do not know just how or when, God will send something to my pen,
From something that's on my heart, a thought God desires to impart,
Throughout my day, just as I go, thoughts from above seem to flow,
While I begin with simply a thought, by The Spirit verses are wrought.
It is The Lord God, Who blesses me, with these verses, that you see,
As these words that I pass along; the credit for all, does truly belong,
To The Lord God, Who reigns above, inspiring the verses, I speak of,
These very words, which I pen, that God has me share with other men.
God pens verses from my prose, through ways only The Spirit knows,
This when God's Spirit is inclined, to guide these thoughts in my mind,
In ways which only The Spirit can, as my Lord fills just an ordinary pen,
God blessing me, with His choice, to use my pen, instead of my voice.
Blessings, I hope to pass your way, with verses, on what I have to say,
As The Lord moves upon my heart, regarding thoughts I wish to impart,
From my thoughts God takes words, and He compiles them into verse,
Through ways that only God can do, so that I may share them with you.
Sharing with many through my life, the Truth and Grace of Jesus Christ,
Sharing Truths, you may have heard, that you find in God's Holy Word,
And Grace, which God bestows on us, when we follow The Lord Jesus,
All this as my Savior blesses me, while He guides me home to Eternity.
In Pursuit of a Poetry Prize
I’m constructing a poem in a strategic new way.
So they won’t comprehend what I’m trying to say.
For a poetry contest with a fabulous prize,
I studied what seems to attract judges’ eyes.
I was reading the ones recognized in the past,
seeking form and design for the words I will cast,
when I noticed a pattern, a key to their prose,
illogical thoughts in unorganized rows.
The first verse confuses, that’s part of the game.
The second verse vague, just more of the same.
Like, “In the beginning the ending was near, ”
or, “We basked in an ardent recollection of fear.”
They conclude with some incomprehensible phrase,
like, “The prolific embrace of our foregone days.”
Ideas aren't finished in these literary events,
and it seems they avoid any words that make sense.
When they don’t understand, it becomes a deep thought.
In depth they will ponder what meaning was sought.
They'll scoff if you've written a limerick or rhyme,
then cast it aside as a waste of their time.
I'll likely be banned, or be forced to concede,
but I'm sharing the secret it takes to succeed;
Don't stress over structure or fret about flow,
use thoughts you don’t have and words you don’t know.
poem by Kevin Pace
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0187: 1580 - Ish
Round 1580 - so some scholars write -
the finest poets of England sought accord
on what fine form of verse might most delight,
and render fullest homage to our Lord.
They found iambics, in a five-foot line
tuned best with English speech to native ears:
more simple, steady, musical in mind
than Racine's stately tread of French hexameters.
The thoughts sublime which these our poets teach
-Sidney's sonnets, Shakespeare's poems and plays -
enter our ears in childhood, shape our speech,
and tune our hearts to hear, and speak, God's ways;
in still and silent rapture there to find
the music of that other world: God's mind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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