Related quotes: Weighted with darkness of impending...

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! ?

cry_oh_gain... cryogen

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes

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

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Foreplay

Seventy seasons sliced by harvest scythe,
sent spent from feast’s fields to untimely grave,
while g[r]azing Time derides begged ebb-tide crave
denies recycled dream, Life’s token tithe.
Who dwells on Death when young and carefree, blithe? -
child heedless plays till taught how to behave.
Adult, aware of all he’d pay to save
from dark forgetfulness, as worm will writhe
an hour, though blind, before brain’s dropped by hive,
good-bye encounters, countdown’s final wave
submerging shawl with pall. Fresh faces pave
new roads, loads, sequent stage for limping, lithe.

Dead end lies destiny both mouse and man
enjoy - span evanescent also-ran.

© Jonathan Robin robi3_0540 written 28 September 1996 revised 23 November 2006 revised as sonnet 3 December 2008 - see below for previous versions initial title Childsplay
Foreplay

Seventy seasons sliced by harvest scythe,
s[p]ent from fields of feasting for[e] Time, grave,
g[r]azes with equanimity, the [g]rave
seems dream recycling tinsel token tithe.
Who dwells on Death when young and carefree, blithe?
Child heedless plays till taught how to behave.
Adult, aware of all he’d give to save
from dark forgetfulness, as worm will writhe
an hour, though blind, before life's final wave
with pall's enshrouded, for fresh paths must pave
subsequent stage for limping, hale, pale, lithe.
Dead end is destiny both mouse and man
enjoy - span evanescent also-ran.

Childsplay

Seventy years cut from the waiting scythe,
gleaned from fields eternal where Time, grave,
g(r) azes with equanimity, the (g) rave
is but recycling of Life’s token tithe.
Who dwells on Death when young and carefree, blithe? -
the child plays till he’s taught how to behave.
Adult, aware of all he fain would save
from dark forgetfulness, as worm will writhe
an hour, though blind, before the final wave.

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hot Air - Parody Witter Bynner Spectra

Just deserted after make-up refuselled,
I, who would have snoozled, hereafter
lose laughter, appear a foozle cahoozled,
as daft as a woozle or even dafter.
The hamstrung string is bamboozled,
snaking like a hung verdict noose loose from the rafters, -
when will the West wind flow less confuselled
blowing our just desserts as afters?

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Enlightenment

ENLIGHTENMENT
Wonder revolves word
whirlwind of change resolving
s[tr]a[n]ge conundrums stirred

s[tr]a[n]ge = sang strange sage stage an age range rang

4 April 2005 revised 3 January 2009
robi03_1190_robi03_0000 HXX_EIX
for previous version see below

Enlightenment

Wind whirls wonder word
beyond deaf and resolve, solves
all conundrums stirred...

12 April 2005

Enlightenment poem © Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Chance Encounters

Life’s chance encounters may precipitate
Enchantment, steering shared, transparent course.
Triumph surfs strong currents. Longings' force
Sham obstacles can overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New dawn spawns hope, dissolving past remorse,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Expelling fears, from tears emancipate.
As inspiration’s catalytic source
Revitalizes joyful intercourse,
Needs met beget seeds thriving, liberate
Open house where friendship, love, blend, bloom,
Where darkness fails, where light tips scales of doom.

28 April 1997 revised 6 October 2009
robi03_0842_robi03_0000 ASX_CEK
for previous versions entitled Constant Current see below

Constant Current

Life’s chance encounters can precipitate
Effects awaited, altering life’s course.
To thrive along through current strong, whose force
Sham obstacles must overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New challenges must then be met, of course,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Each vain fear fades. Fresh force can liberate
A current constituting constant source
Reviving joys through sharing intercourse,
New empathy, which may anticipate
Open house where friendship, love, blend, bloom,
Where darkness fails, where light tips scales of doom.

28 April 1997 revised? 2005
for previous version entitled End Fear see below

End Fear

Life’s chance encounters can precipitate
A watershed and somehow change its course.
Driving with a current strong, whose force
All obstacles can overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New challenges must then be met, of course,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Each vain fear fades. Fresh scope can liberate
A hope whose inner strengh is constant source
Reviving joys through sharing intercourse
And empathy, which can anticipate
Love to bloom, or friendship blossom, where
A DAy leaves night behind, - light everywhere.!

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Taste Life's Perfume with incense kindled at the Muse's flame - Modus Vivendi

Mind bright is masked by magic, vibrant charm,
awareness keen seeks change of scene, sea change.
Unique potential seeds extensive range,
dreams space, needs time, autonomy, finds calm
extracting from life's vigour soothing balm.
Modus vivendi ventures, tests exchange,
authenticity attains, where naught seems strange,
undaunted by life's challenges, spurns qualms,
detects through radar all who might do harm
eliminating those unworthy who
mock trust, too often are unable to
add without taking more, threats to disarm.
Undeterred, rise 'far from madding crowd'
determine choice, voice deepest thoughts aloud.

'Maude Us Vivendi'

Magic smile masks mind behind the charm
Always aware, observant, seeking change.
Unique talents need extensive range
Dream of space, autonomy and calm
Extracting from life's vigour soothing balm.
Modus vivendi often finds it strange
As few attain an authentic exchange.
Undaunted, though, her intuition's arm
Detects by radar all who might do harm
Eliminating those unworthy who
Mock trust, and often are unable to
Add without taking more. These she'd disarm
Undeterred, far from the crowd she'd rise
DEtermined to win through to joyous skies...

poem by Jonathan Robin
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As Time Slips By - Acrostic Sonnet

As time sleeps by love’s tide [s]weeps sluggard, cold,
Slow beats heart's flow, forgets dreams' heats once sought.
Then, fragile, faith wraith cobwebs spins, sins caught
In Time’s equation web. Where once soul bold
Made music wild, filed, passion dims, short-sold.
Existence pales, stales, fails, - loves tales abort -
Sheds goals, gaols aims at joys ‘chance’ might have brought -
Little cares how life’s tale may unfold.
Inspiration wanes, fears stranglehold,
Plaintive soul retreats to shell, distraught,
Second hand experiences, thought,
Buy time, dismiss love from life's centrefold.
Yawning the abyss which, biding time,
shall swallow every line and every rhyme.

Passed By

As time drifts by Love’s tide flows coward, cold,
Slow beats sad heart, lost far from dreams once sought.
Too little lust, - blades rust, in cobwebs caught -
In time fires dim which once, in times of old,
Moved untamed ecstasy, flame bold.
Existence paled until encounter brought
Potency restored, fresh friendship taught
A focus fresh, let energies unfold.
Some dreams remain, most vain, in stranglehold
Spirit stifled, struggle not as thought
Experience leaves feelings dulled, distraught,
Dismisses soul from life's bright centrefold.
But chance encounter sets in timeless motion
Yen to advance, to share inspired emotion...

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - What Will Follow?

Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests

Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition;

Acrostics to be found below:
What will follow - external
Name an Acrostic - vertical from middle
Robin Jonathan - double diagonal from middle

Palimpsest: A manuscript on which more than one text is written
with earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.

Enjoy!

3 versions below:
4 March 2009
6 January 2007
2 January 1992 [Jonathan Wrobel]

What Will Follow?

Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story. Living dead,
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys gainsaid:
Fond intention ropes soon ties instead
Of painting scroll whose links naught need conceal.
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to trial met book open, read,
Or is all error, nightmares' terrors where
We puppets find chance rules us? Judgements spare!

What Will Follow?

Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story. Living dead,
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys gainsaid
Fate, in waiting, rarely runs, - instead
Our sins turns to our loss without appeal.
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to the future, - grow, love, wed -
Or all’s terror, nightmare error where
We soon will see climactic climes none spare…

© Jonathan Robin polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet written 2 January 1992 revised 6 January 2007

What will Follow?

Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story, live or dead.
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys when fed
Fulfill our hearts which lay too long abed.
Our selves we should revive, all sloth repeal,
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to the future, - grow, love, wed!
Or all is error, 'tis but nightmare where
We soon will see chance rules us without heir!

Jonathan Wrobel polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet © Jonathan Robin written 2 January 1992

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Frame Work

The Present is a precious rug
under which, with care, we sweep,
the Past that few desire undug, -
but through weft warped heaped dust must seep...

Though some may carp while others pet,
the end result remains the same,
those past forgot, those left forget,
pick up the pieces of the game
Life plays with Death, as unpaid debt
and credit balance out to tame
ambitions high whose overthrow
comes when sun’s zenith blinds to shame, -
alike pride, selflessness, and show,
bluff, bluster, submission, lofty aim,
both fear of here and of hereafter,
present tears, and present laughter,
oblivion snuffs all (t) race of fame,
and fossil light frame who will know –
or what – when swallowed every name
by Time whose rhymes and reasons flow
into forgetfullness or flame,
no sentience left to explain
how seasons come and seasons go.

The Present is a rug which, precious, held,
reels on towards a future film withheld,
and though we’d sweep the Past’s dead dust beneath,
it filters through, preparing our own wreath.

poem by Jonathan Robin
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On Borrowed Time

O ne lonely life is offered knight or knave,
N o second chance is sent, though some would seek
B y bell, book, candle to sustain thread weak,
O r mask the blinding darkness of the grave.
R emember, ‘Carpe Diem! ’ Coward, brave,
R aise equal dust when ploughed, while pauper, sheik
O wn an equal plot when past plots speak
W ith Lethe’s tongue, and young men fresh paths pave.
E xistence fires derisive pyres, we’d wave
D eath’s dancing grin aside, but no technique
T hat’s known can conquer Time. Each day, each week,
I s sacrificed. Man stays the Future’s slave.
M inute more is minute minus [s]tress, -
E very moment leaves Man’s little, less...

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lift up your voice

Time waits on time till Cause, Effect combine.
Here is not [t]here until the watershed
Encounters catalyst, may move ahead,
Then fiction, fact, may interact, align.
Under calm show, strong currents flow, entwine
Retwisted skeins till Chance’s every thread
New turns invents, ‘synes-tricks’ plays, till sped
Is moving finger’s writ, line by dread line.
No cheap return is offered here, tears brine
Gain no remission, judgements are gainsaid.
Played through each hand, till final card is spread –
One can’t job backwards, rain transform to shine.
In such a maze are individuals caught,
The answer lies within, - unfound when sought...

The title seems so vital for each soul
alive should strive for principles not sit
as silent witness on the fence where wit
is wanting, wanting flame, name, aim or goal
or fickle fortune's hostage swallowed whole
as time absorbs most rhyme when limelight spit
finds other food to roast as life we quit.
The voice for choice should sound not squeak as mole
in tunnels dark, marked only by bite bit
emergent - soon submerged, which can't transmit
the truth, if truth exists, but begging bowl
hands out for mirror money which Time's glass
in passing soon effaces from life's grass.

© Jonathan Robin robi3_0601 20000719 revised 20070705 with second sonnet added previous title Time waits on Time

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone

A phone that seldom rings, or never,
Sounds like a life-line coiled, unused,
A link to light that stands accused,
Left hanging in the never-never.
Life is so short, so soon to sever,
A call can save, and one refused
Leaves empty heart, and mind bemused
Or all at sea. However clever
No diver plunges who would ever
Enthuse or feel the least amused
If, once he sank, trust was abused: -
Cut lines for reason whatsoever!
Remember then the friendly call
You make can take no time at all.

Acrostic sonnet and previous title As All Alone I Cry
robi03_0203_robi03_0000 ASX_JZX

(3 January 1991 revised 5 October 2006)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laid Here to Rest 0394

Life's game is gamble, cards are closely stacked
Against the players, every one of whom
Is well aware his [s]pace [t]race in life's room
Dissolves before acts' film, facts action packed,
Has time to make a permanent impact.
Ephemeral our days, froth tinged with gloom,
Regrets run refe before Death's shadows loom,
Expectant smile skeletal, sickle backed.
Take then harsh Time to task for time that's lacked,
One-way ticket torn, forlorn spring bloom,
Reminds one once, spite mocking maws of doom,
Evanescent joys dared fears contract.
So be it. Though stark body's laid to rest,
The soul may soar, spotlight for some who rest

(14 October 2008)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Principles of Wisdom and Wisdom of Principles

Life links experience in skeins to solve
its crucial questions before we dissolve.
Weave principles round wisdom from within
as asset principal, discarding sin.
If cause/effect equations can evolve,
through equity verse, chapter, must begin.

poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Special Act

Zoo and zoom,
With a special act to put at stake;
And like th elight of th emoon on the loom!
But the flower of the fairies abounds in your muse.

Hope, life, love and depression;
Wake up from your loneliness and jkeep upfront,
And like a line to the loom but never to the moon!

Loom, room, boom, zoom, doom;
Get a professional act in the form of your act,
And like the simplicity of the essence of a micro-lightening.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Priorities

PRIORITIES

Today’s priorities tomorrow fade,
dissolved, distorted by Time's tug of war.
What all important seemed one day before
turns sour before its zest to rest is laid,
incorporated into causal braid,
what’s left sewn through waft-weft of life’s rapports.
It serves no sense to fear what lies in store
for others, for oneself - life’s game is played
with Life itself, spurns Death's amoral spade.
Timed candle splutters, will f[l]ame rise once more,
or shroud itself in darkness, curtains draw,
veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burka maid?
For passing sigh thrilled head’s held high, yet soon
both silver spoon and slum lie dumb, stilled tune.

f[l]ame = flame fame lame l'âme aim am me

3 December 2001 revised 10 December 2008
robi03_0974_robi03_0000 SXX_CDJ

for previous version see below

Priorities

Priorities today, tomorrow fade,
dissolved, distorted by Time's tug of war.
What all important seemed the day before
turns sour before appointed hour, is laid
aside by patterns Cause, Effect may braid
into the waft and weft of their rapport.
It serves no sense to fear what lies in store
for others, for oneself, - life’s game is played
with Life itself, spurns Death's amoral spade.
The candle splutters, will f[l]ame rise once more,
or shroud itself in darkness, curtains draw,
veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burka maid?
For passing sigh-space head’s held high, yet soon
all is dissolved for slum or silver spoon...

3 December 2001

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Spirit Spits Pits

[S]tale smoke,
Pale bloke,
I‘m broke,
Rum coke
In poke
Time’s joke …
So Croak!

13 April 2005 revised 28 March 2009 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 XXX_DJZ

Previous title Cost of Dying – for previous version see below

Cost of Sin

Stale smoke,
I’m broke,
No joke.

13 April 2005 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 AWX_DJZ

poem by Jonathan Robin
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As Dew from Lily Pearls

AS DEW FROM LILY PEARLS
As dew from lily pea[r]ls away
Stretched time can’t rhyme eternity.
Desire whose fire may warm today
Ephemeris is seen to be.
We pass, time due, climb through life’s play,
Fall, fate forgotten, from life’s tree,
Remembered in leafed album stray,
Or – for a spell – where family
Must thrust dust, trust our writings may
Lift spirits from banality.
If ALL is in, through, ALL our stay
Lingers in some way to key
Youth, age, together, thus may mock despair,
PEARL Seed be[a]d-feed leads to new life, joy rare...

robi03_1551_robi03_0000 ASX_KZX

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time's Tide

Those cause/effect relations seek to investigate
ask why life’s lamentations can’t flow past pearly gate,
why can’t hope’s expectations some sects anticipate
show we’re wheeled incarnations, frustrations, fears, negate

Why worry what tomorrow may offer if at all,
share laughter, spurning sorrow, ignoring wailing wall,
each wakes one day, hopes hollow, must piper pay as shawl
in winding sheet few follow, no trumps for final call.

Time's tide has been extended beyond the sands of hope,
free ride from heyday ended, frayed tether, broken rope,
recount lost time expended, events' ghost mirage grope,
as most proud man intended black hole's Time's telescope.

Bright spark - life's candle gutters - so swiftly movements cease,
one cry before heart flutters, before 'Here rests in peace! '
one sigh then parting’s shutters are drawn with no surcease,
one dies while crowd bread butters inheritance apiece.

In youth great expectations mask ignorance - a vice -
few meet anticipations, most, sour, scower at Fate’s dice.
life’s joke is on Creation’s head, ne’er repeated twice,
one innings: vindications leave after-thoughts to lice.

Behind lie verses threaded, skeins sense retains in vain,
life's loves too soon are bedded by Fate immune to pain.
life’s gloves too soon are shredded by thorny greed for gain,
‘Above’ is concept wedded to fear, none bat again.

Time's Tide

Some cause/effect relations
would understand and splice -
what wall of lamentations
may give a game played twice?

Why care Creation's date to play -
the aeons ebb and flow, -
Man wakes one day with price to pay,
and nowhere left to go.

Time's tide has been extended
beyond the sands of hope,
the time for games has ended,
what trumps remain, what scope?

In youth great expectations
masked ignorance - a vice -
of how anticipations
can sour at throw of dice.

A spark, - life's candle gutters -
so swiftly mouvements cease.
One cry before heart flutters,
before 'Here rests in peace! '

Luck's tithe has been expended,
no slack remains, the rope
draws tight 'spite rules once bended
to ease life's line, to cope.

And like these verses threaded
in skein sense would retain,
Life's loves too soon are bedded
by Fate immune to pain.

2 January 2001

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetics

Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.

Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.

Poetics

Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Dis Solution Dissipation

Related quotes

Cycles in Season

Foreplay

Hot Air - Parody Witter Bynner Spectra

Enlightenment

Chance Encounters

Taste Life's Perfume with incense kindled at the Muse's flame - Modus Vivendi

As Time Slips By - Acrostic Sonnet

Polyacrostic Palimpsest - What Will Follow?

Frame Work

On Borrowed Time

Lift up your voice

Alone

Laid Here to Rest 0394

Principles of Wisdom and Wisdom of Principles

A Special Act

Priorities

Spirit Spits Pits

As Dew from Lily Pearls

Time's Tide

Poetics

En.Citatepedia^®.ro