Cycles in Season

CYCLES IN SEASON

The grain, who'd reap life's golden grain
knows dust to dust's returned again,
though mortal flesh rots none impound
pure spirit risen, strength fresh found.

New found, to greet soul's season new,
scope springs again, hopes shall renew,
conceit that speeds humanity
grounds down needs through greed, vanity.

Profanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
while wounded pride, vile greed for gain,
turns self-destructive 'gainst the grain.

Yet grain finds fertile soil. Long lain
awaiting stained-glass window pane
which cycle starts charts rich rebound
from dark profound to light recrowned.


18 June 1991 revised 14 December 2008
robi03_0390_robi03_0000 XXX_EJZ

previous title Circles in Season for previous version see below


Circles in Season

The grain, who reaps the golden grain
knows dust to dust’s returned again, -
though flesh may rot, one can’t impound
the spirit risen, strength new-found.

New found, to greet a season new,
strength springs again, hopes can renew,
but hopes that speed humanity
are ground down by its vanity.

Its vanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
and wounded pride with greed for gain
agrees to go against the grain...


18 June 1991

© Jonathan Robin

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Paperback

' dust at the side of the road '

the story writes itself
in however how many pages it may take

it can feel your pulse-rate rise
and enters through your skin

it is a very fine dust
slides easy off the page

then grain by grain by grain
it burrows deeper in

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Dawn Of A New Day

The thoughts from yesterday - forgotten
I like the way this new skin feels
Bring me splinters of tomorrow
Collect the parts where I win
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Concrete breath and dust filled tears
A one-way ride to inner peace
I never thought, I'd join the others
Those who use the dice to solve
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again (x2)
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds
Against the grain, against the odds(x2)
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds(x3)

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You Are Unto Dust

You are made from the dust of the earth,
And the Wailing-Wall will be there for you;
For you are unto dust and you shall return unto dust,
And this is just the journey of the spirit.

To the realm of the unknown and to the things we do for love,
And until death put us apart on this side of the planet;
For the flesh goes back to where it belongs to!
Yes, back to the earth.

Death is part of us and we need to learn from others,
For we have to be prepared as well;
For he flesh goes back to where it belongs to;
And out of the dust we were made.

The dust became flesh and today we are human beings,
And from the knowledge of the things to come;
But naked we came and naked we shall return.

Shed no tears on this love,
For death comes for all of us on this earth;
And we need to learn from the facts around us as well,
For it is better to be very righteous than to be buried with evil deeds.

Life is a long road full of sand and,
All that is acquired on this earth is vanity!
Yes, vanity upon vanity! !
For you and i are unto dust and,
Unto dust we shall return at the end of of all things.

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That Part Of A Whole

it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters

you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.

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Hour Glass

I sit and stare
Watching as every grain falls away
I sit and stare
Asking what's there to life with every falling grain
I sit and stare
Asking what secrets lie within these sands of time
I sit, but this time I wonder
if the next falling grain brings hope to life

Clock's ticking, I sit back to relax
Sands falling, I clear my mind to hear my heart
Every minute passes me by, it's a moment to ponder
Reflections on my actions, the consequences that will seek to haunt me
But what good is this if I sit here another day
Ephemera it may be but life wasted if I regret my steps
watching as life ticks and trickles away from the grasp of man
I wish to see another day
So I sit and ask
if the next falling grain brings hope to life
 

I take a moment to sigh, so let my breath whisper my weakness
Tired from the daily routine of life
A hopeless endeavor lived for self
Ambition they say but what good is it if led by greed
if primary becomes secondary and secondary becomes primary
roofing replaces foundation and pillars become ruins
because surely chaos will pay you a visit
hence I know not a building of such design that stands the test of life
so I'll sit and ask
if the next falling grain brings hope to life

I'v been sitting in this chair for far too long
Least to say, my mind feels a little bit too far gone
Seeking for answers before the end of time
For when time ends judgment awaits
Will memories be our tombstones or will they be our well built thrones we'll one day sit on
Seek ye first what lies in the kingdom above
Let the gifts be secondary , let foundation be the basis
So u may sit and know
That the next falling grain brings hope to life

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After The Slow Slipping Of Self

grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand

and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain

until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers

then feel that
your hands
are still yours

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Grain Of Sand

I feel like Im walking on a mine
Im gonna leave it all behind
I feel like Im gaining my soul
While Im losing my mind
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
Im gonna walk through that door
Im gonna see what its there for
cause all I ever want is your skin or your soul baby
But you couldnt give me either one of those
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
You use to hold me like a flower
We used to talk for seven hours
I see the bigger picture now
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand

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Grain Of Sand

From every grain of sand
That falls from my hand
Through my fingers to the ground
To utter but not a sound,
For like a Human life
That pasted before my eyes
To be here and then be gone
Forgotten like yesterdays dawn.
For like a grain of sand
The Boy became a Man
Who cries tears of His fate,
For He knows for what Man did,
Is from what Man had made.
Though as being caught up in the air
And being blown to who knows where
For where we go, no man knows
And where we die, is where we lie.
We are all here a lifetime
As though it seems a long time
It is though, but a short time,
To live and love, then die.
Like a grain of sand
That falls upon the beach
To be caught up in the rain or air
And to go where no one can reach,
A Girl becomes a Woman
The Boy becomes a Man
And everyone makes their own fall,
Like a simple, grain of sand.

Randy L. McClave

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Bright Buckets

Bright buckets bulge with sand and shells today,
brimmed by children busily at play,
intent on building, digging time away
upon the beach, sand castles they inlay
with scalloped decorations castaway
by last tide’s currents, scattered anyway
along the tattered margin of the bay.

A tiny grain of sand was yesterday
caught up within the complex interplay
of forces ‘yond our ken which ever weigh
upon the stream of consciousness to sway
more than a moment’s notice in their way
regardless of the influences they
appear to have upon our day to day.

Our meditations led far, far away
to rock formations which Time’s Go games play
until the grain by wind or water spray
from bedrock blown, is worn down, dust or clay,
key silent witness to life’s chaos fray.
What change of scene, and what has been, what may
yet be that grain stands witness to Time’s stay...?

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Report From Paradise

In paradise the work week is fixed at thirty hours
salaries are higher prices steadily go down
manual labour is not tiring (because of reduced gravity)
chopping wood is no harder than typing
the social system is stable and the rulers are wise
really in paradise one is better off than in whatever country


At first it was to have been different
luminous circles choirs and degrees of abstraction
but they were not able to separate exactly
the soul from the flesh and so it would come here
with a drop of fat a thread of muscle
it was necessary to face the consequences
to mix a grain of the absolute with a grain of clay
one more departure from doctrine the last departure
only John foresaw it: you will be resurrected in the flesh


not many behold God
he is only for those of 100 per cent pneuma
the rest listen to communiqués about miracles and floods
some day God will be seen by all
when it will happen nobody knows


As it is now every Saturday at noon
sirens sweetly bellow
and from the factories go the heavenly proletarians
awkwardly under their arms they carry their wings like violins

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From Among The Sands

from among the sands of the shore
and you must accept there are trillions and trillions of them there

you have the guts to tell all of them
that you are not like them

that you are this diamond
admired by emerald and sapphire
and that gold is inferior

the mighty sun shines everyday above the trillions of your kind &
it is not bothered at all

it does not know you &
finds nothing significant about your claim for self-claim for glamor & glitter

need i tell you Mr. grain of sand
that a grain of sand is and will always be a good-for-nothing grain of sand?

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Jose Marti

A grain of poetry suffices to season a century.

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A Little Sunshine

a grain of rice
on a table cloth
beside
a cup of hot
coffee

imperceptible
but when a connection is found
soon
the spoon and fork
shall understand

some pieces
no matter what
do not fit
on a reasonable landscape

what is the grain of rice
doing on a breakfast table?

your mind is furious
i think it is cool

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Through Chance, we are each a ghost to all the others, and our only reality; through Chance, the huge hinge of the world, and a grain of dust; the stone that starts an avalanche, the pebble whose concentric circles widen across the seas.

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Submergent Heir Apparent 1532

Regardless of their air apparent firm
Of grain, to grain, against the grain, cliff wall
One day must fall, must raftless [d]rift withal
Marked only by the generation worm
Whose earlybird descendant shall not squirm
In spite of stone erosion's crystal ball.
Tintagel's hour of need may heed no call
Hark to prophet-sea-gull, wheeling tern
One day may search its prey where wild waves churn,
Uninterrupted sea soars over all,
That climate change precipitated, squall
Dour squall succeeding Man's high plans, his germ.
Order bows to chaos as the deep
Submerges, legend, castle, climb and keep.

(26 December 2006)

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Dis Solution Dissipation

Weighted with darkness of impending doom
each waits alone, alike to friend and foe
as deaf as stone, as heedless of each blow.
Who cares what curtains drape eternal gloom?
No will, however strong, when death will loom,
pride vaunts oblivious to oblivion's slow
approaching icy grip from tip to toe -
as though dissolving essence could make room
for Hope at Act’s end. Wormcast catacomb,
Life’s dust dispersal tomb rehearsal show
is headlong blown along Time’s one way flow,
tomorrow naught can conjure from Past's womb.
From darkness stark may flesh fresh flake again,
unfettered spark, from wake wake, cry_oh_gain! ?

© Jonathan Robin – sonnet robi3_0612 written 17 January 2001 revised 11 April 2008
previous title - Into Dust Dissolve

cry_oh_gain... cryogen

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Sandwriting

Sandwriting
Leave your name and
Let the wind
And high tide
Take it away
Each white gold grain
That made up your name
Take it away
Sandwriting
Write your lover's monogram
Upon the cool damp
White gold grain
say this is who I am
Yes this is all you are my friend
Some shapes upon the sand
Of white gold grain
Washed and blown away
With the memory of your name
Take it away
Go tell the story
To the wind and sea
What ever became of you and me
Each letter of love
That had its golden day
A love song
Without goodbye
Take it away
Sandwriting

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A wise woman puts a grain of sugar into everything she says to a man, and takes a grain of salt with everything he says to her.

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If I Could Fall In Love

When I was young
I fell in love
She was a goddess
With a world inside of her mind
When she moved on
Something went wrong
She took my power
And the love I had inside
Now that I found you
I don't know how to

If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you

If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would

I pray in time
I'll come to find
Away to break through
And save this heart of mine
You've waited long
If you can't hold on
I wouldn't blame you
I don't think I'd be that strong
What am I to do
If I can't have you

If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you

If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would

You love me so
Even though I don't know
How do you deal
With a man like me

If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you

If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
I would

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Henry David Thoreau

A grain of gold will gild a great surface, but not so much as a grain of wisdom. - from Live Without Principle

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