Efforts Unrewarded - 0846 - Current Version
Time mocks priorities as, day by day,
efforts, unrewarded, dream vain show.
Existence: an incessant ebb and flow.
effects link subtle causal interplay
none may control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose pattern steps few know.
Some keys, decoded, avoid stop and go,
channel energy to colour grey.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
music invent, according string to bow,
instinctively enjoying vertigo
unknown to most, who coast with bubble bray
turned to empty echo drowned unheard.
Late offers elegy for early bird.
(7 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Some Find - 0846 - Initial Version
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
Efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Life is an incessant ebb and flow.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
None can control, - coincidence at play
Enacts a dance whose patterns few do know.
Some find a key, avoiding stop and go,
Channel energy to colour grey.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
Music invent, according string and bow,
Instinctively enjoy a vertigo
That is unknown by most, whose bubble bray
Turns to empty echo, sinks unheard.
Has she a heart whose strings can still be stirred?
(28 June 1997)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bubble Bray - 0822 - Current Version
Time's muzzle mocks ambitions. Day by day,
through life's incessant dream theme ebb and flow,
efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
none may control, - coincidence at play
enacts a chance dance time mime stop and go
whose pattern frame spins into vertigo
flaking dates and energy away.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
cannot be reined, restrained, nor string nor bow
fires through some causal bull's eye to echo
sense sustained. Profane, with bubble bray,
most blow hot, cold on stage, then sink unheard
before they even feel flow's ripples stirred.
(9 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Keyless
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
efforts are hamstrung, - phantom puppet show
reflects our vain illusions’ ebb and flow.
Effects’ and causes’ ripple interplay
scoffs at control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose patterns none may know.
Why seek for key? Self-righteous afterglow
can’t channel flow to stem the current grey?
Chance - Time’s harmony – Man won’t obey,
cares not a tinker’s curse for those who bow
would string, - self validating vertigo
soon bursts to leave brief, troubled, bubble bray
deflated, echo muted, song unheard.
Who’ll witness stand that strings were ever stirred?
19 September 2005 revised 30 October 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Unlimited Reflections - 0848 - Current Version
Here follows an anthology to bring
enjoyment true, one world view versed in rhyme,
unlimited reflections over time
matured by mind whose searching soul would sing,
nursing ambitions empathy should string,
except most care not, - neither nickle, dime.
Listen to intuition's bells' strong chime
imprinting echo etched on soul, whose ring
may never fail, to nothing fade. Time's sting
outcast as shared experiences climb
up past extrapolations vague, masqued mime.
Just twenty six swift soldiers' ink link lines
recast lead die, redrawing causal signs.
(4 March 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Behind Sphinx Smile 1407 Current Version
Silent synapses thread fa[r]ce fate,
'to end the heart-ache and the natural shocks
that flesh is heir to' leaves life's stumbling blocks'
causal button pressed to eliminate
one cycle while preparing second date
evolving karmic chain that time unlocks
to ease, to tease mortal disease yet mocks
all efforts before wiping clean life's slate.
No need and no beginning. Early, late,
hold meaning only for vain weather cocks
where east leads west, where north, south, test the box
Pandora left. Don't overestimate
apparent reasons, rhymes of season's trial:
truth many seek, few find behind sphinx smile.
(22 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Causal
Take it causal
Life is causal
Your whole existence is causal
Sunrise sunset causal
Governing bounding causal
Rolling wheel is causal
Pin of axle shaft also causal
Your life is causal
Your whole existence is causal.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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How Time Mocks Us All
HOW TIME MOCKS US ALL
How Time mocks us all
The dead- remembered in ways unwanted.
Not remembered at all.
Descendants living in different worlds.
Does G-d Remember and Care?
Time mocks us all
Slowly we become
The music of another distant melody
For us forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When Feelings Fail to Flabbergast - 1968
Future today, tomorrow: past,
love's piper must be paid at last,
where two's no longer company
one's crowded out, one too many
fights pseudo superfluity
self-confidence at sea, aghast.
Too late is hell. Seek, rather, fast
to try new track, exile, outcast
unworthy partner, fake. Break free
from falsehood lacking harmony's
far better far than fragility
stretched out by thin elastoplast.
Life's boat cannot advance half-mast,
an appetite scorns cold repast,
‘alone' keeps credibility
preparing for fresh melody
by banishing futility
when feelings fail to flabbergast.
Causal love-links multicast
play games, dream's downfall seemed forecast
to herald heartbreak threnody
yet somehow primes rhyme's melody,
prime-time until eternity
mocks mortal bombast vain as vast.
(3 March 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Everything Is Not Enough
It doesnt help you if you scream and shout
That isnt what this thing is all about
And do you really want to fight to win
Youre missing out and thats another sin
Your dream of power is a sacrifice
Do you really want to pay that price
Just think about it and youll change the pace
Look in the mirror tell me who do you face
Who is that?
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Nobody loves you if you moan all day
So take it easy then youll get your way
You aint no dummy and Im sure you know
You know its better if you let it go
Youre in control if you let it go
Youre feeling better when you let it flow
You never really had to catch the moon
Youre better jumping to another tune
So lets jump
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop (do, do, do it)
Ive got it all but its not enough
I keep thinking boy I feel so rough
This cant be me, Im such a happy guy
I laugh a lot but I want to cry
A cry for help is just letting go
It hurts a lot but I think I know
Its time for change I dont need the hype
Its time for change and the time is ripe
So lets go
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop
Its everything, everything is not enough
I want it all, thats tough, thats tough, thats tough
Another dream, another dream, another dream goes pop
This is the time, lets stop, lets stop, lets stop...
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters
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An Open Gate - 1222 - 2008 Version
The need that tames the flames of inner fire
may seed ten thousand ripples, may be more.
Desire to feed the furnace of desire
creates from dust more than there was before.
Those letters [l]inked on parchment or those which
on pixel tell~tale tra[n]ce dance in the brain
may early, late, both stimulate, enrich,
cross reference, cross reference again.
Rich pitch one hears switch spheres have ever known
they knew they knew before tuned undertone
vibrating through the Universal, sown
as echo coeval with the wind thats blown
along the way as day and night advance ~
or is it coexist in parallel ~
with worlds dreams glimpse perhaps when changeling Chance
weird timeline opens till dawn's waking bell.
What counts is ways the wave bands interlink
from infra violent through the ultra read
judgmental values fade, flushed down Life's sink,
the Pattern counts, how waft and web are spread
within the flow itself should make one think
there is no past, no present, no ahead,
as Time can rhyme the span, at Man must wink ~
as [s]he's from Judge to Judgement, spinning, led.
The air we breathe with life must seethe and how
that interacts to marshal facts is strange,
coincidence may shape both 'here and now'
and still instill, fulfill, more scope, more range
without the trammels and the platitudes
which most repeat ~ both low and high ~ as each
delays, downplays unusual attitudes,
won't glow in flow with currents out of reach.
This flow is pattern icing on the cake
the poet bakes it takes the time to write,
which whirls around, spurns sight and sound to rake
no line dividing time, space, day or night.
Thus time itself appears conveyor belt
on belt 'die Welt' drives on at different speeds,
some contradictory, some helter-skelt
to feed the need to feed the need to seed
an echo which upon an unknown date
in turn may stimulate discovery
of what once known ~ unlocking open gate
calling upon the inner eye to see.
the need that tames the flames of inner fire
to seed ten thousand ripples, may be more,
desire to feed the furnace of desire
from doom creating more than bloomed before.
(16 April 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dance Party
Come on everyone
Let's go
It' time for a
Dance Party
Turn that music up loud as loud you want
I wanna dance all night until my feet get tired
I don't want this night to end
This is time of my life to get away
From my problems and people I don't want to see
I just want to have fun
Its best way to make me feel so relief
Keep party going
Dance Party
Yeaaaaa
Let get crazy and have great time
Don't stop the music
Bust your move
Don't stop the music
Show people the side
You never show before
They be amazed
Have fun and eat with your friends
Don't be shy
What is point if you go there if you don't have fun
You might make new friends
I want DJ to play my songs
So I can dance all night until my feet get tired
Come on everyone dance
Dance party
poem by Christina Phan
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As long as its music
Please play me a symphony
Make a simple cheerful harmony
Please play me a chord from a guitar
For me, it does not matter
If I’m the only audience of your theatre
Give me some instrumental vibes
All rhythms and tunes are musically ripe
There is no need to take precaution
While playing the Banjo or flamenco percussion
As long as its music
We can all heal
As long as its music
We can all feel
We can sing out our hearts and soul
We can let this music take control
Please play me the drums
We can sing or we can hum
Please play me a CD or a hit record
We could sing to the tunes of an ipod
With the sounds of music we can compose a song
Maybe sing to the town’s bells chiming ding-dong
Please play me the sweet keys of a piano
Hit a sweet note that is a major or minor
As long as its music
We can all heal or cry
As long as its music
We can all feel or fly high
And I will be lost in your voice and eyes
Holding on to each minute that flies
Whatever sounds or instruments
I shall feel good in the moment
Please play me a note from a flute
Those peaceful sounds tend to soothe
I want to hear sweet, sweet music
Choose your lyrics, take your pick
My heart will dance, till she is weak
Get out that guitar, acoustic or electric
Please play me the violins of an orchestra night
String me some melodies in broad daylight
And we can rap to melodious sense or crap
While our feet’s playfully tap, tap and tap
As long as its music
We can dance along the shore
As long as its music
We can all take to the dance floor
And I say once more, once more!
As long as its music, I will only ask for more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Unbiased Overview 1502
Egocentricity considers key
cold guarantee sustaining sinecure
retaining pride well blinkered which won't see
it seeds its self-destruction, mirage lure.
Spirit fair needs focus to ensure
essential energy through harmony.
feeds progress, never stumbles immature,
nor squanders its potentiality.
Channel timing, expression premature
scythes empty air, impairs the will to be,
short-circuiting its very armature
sending signals contradictory.
Through overview unbiased sans detour
Time's pattern pulse may be transmitted free
from preconditionned judgements dark, obscure.
Find echo which rings true to equity.
(15 November 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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When feelings fail to flabbergast
WHEN FEELINGS FAIL TO FLABBERGAST
Future today, tomorrow: past,
love's piper must be paid at last,
where two's no longer company
one's crowded out, one too many
fights pseudo superfluity
self-confidence at sea, aghast.
Too late is hell. Seek, rather, fast
to try new track, exile, outcast
unworthy partner, fake. Break free
from falsehood lacking harmony's
far better far than fragility
stretched out by thin elastoplast.
Life's boat cannot advance half-mast,
an appetite scorns cold repast,
‘alone’ keeps credibility
preparing for fresh melody
by banishing futility
when feelings fail to flabbergast.
Causal love-links multicast
play games, dream’s downfall seemed forecast
to herald heartbreak threnody
yet somehow primes rhyme’s melody,
prime-time until eternity
mocks mortal bombast vain as vast.
3 March 2010
robi03_1968_robi03_0000 XXX_ELZ
When feelings fail to flabbergast poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Behind Sphinx Smile 1407 Initial Version
The time has come to cut the thread of fate,
'to end the heart-ache and the natural shocks
that flesh is heir to' leave life's stumbling blocks
and press the button to eliminate
one cycle while preparing second date
evolving karmic chain that time unlocks
to ease, to tease, our life disease which mocks
all efforts before wiping clean the slate.
No need and no beginning. Early, late,
hold meaning only for vain weathercocks
where east leads west, where north, south, test the box
Pandora left, let man manipulate
the rhyme and reason of each season's trial,
Which many seek, few find behind sphinx smile.
(8 March 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Test For Echo
Words by neil peart and pye dubois,
Music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Here we go --- vertigo
Video vertigo
Test for echo
Here we go --- in slo-mo
Video vertigo
Test for echo
Some kind of trouble on the sensory screen
Camera curves over caved-in cop cars
Bleacher-creatures, would-be desperados
Clutch at plausible deniability
Dont touch that dial ---
Were in denial
Until the showcase trial on tv
Some kind of pictures on the sense oclock news
Miles of yellow tape --- silhouetted chalklines
Tough-talking hood boys in pro-team logo knock-offs
Conform to uniforms of some corporate entity
Dont change that station
Its gangster nation
Now crimes in syndication on tv
What a show --- vertigo
Video vertigo
Test for echo
Touch and go -- in slo-mo
Video vertigo
Test for echo
Some kind of drama live on satellite
Hidden camera coverage from the crime scene to the courtroom
Nail-biting hood boys in borrowed ties and jackets
Clutching at the straws of respectability
Cant do the time?
Dont do the crime
And wind up in the perp walk on tv
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alcuin - 0293
Awhile pray pause who, passing by the way,
Lines cue, are fed into sped changeling's clay.
Can you spring from my fate what your's may be?
Unwound my clock, soon your's locked history!
In spite of this world's gifts, Time's ticks won't stay.
Now here, then there sped, bed from care carefree.
About my fads, what gads on you today,
Leaves cause to trace if grace was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, space race of what Life was to me
In yours may stay, int-urned? All slips away.
No mor[t]al s[l]ips defy Eternity.
Awhile Bede's rosary I beaded, lay
Learning as priority, salvé!
Charlemagne advised and poetry
Unfettered formulated in my see.
Ideal 'truths held self-evident' decay,
Now mocked by some as mere apostasy.
Although some style me saint, to dry bones pray,
Let well alone! To your redemption pay
Complete attention free from falsity.
Unwarranted are myths through whose haze see
Insight of 'truth' to stem their own dismay,
Near teamed tears stream for yesterdays deemed key.
Avoid crass mediocrity, display
Less pride than tolerance, life's roundelay
Clipped short can't be rebought, rethought may be,
Urge surge repeat from peat. Cacophony
Is static silenced soon, life's bubble bray
Night stifles, casket covered carelessly.
Approach existence as poetic play
Link, ink, and think, don't sink, although you may
Chaos encounter, surface foam, froth, flee.
Untie knots individuality
Insists upon through fear of castaway.
Nudge fast past selfish immaturity.
Apart from withered spoon I sleep. Make hay!
Live for today, rank tyrants disobey!
Come dusk what husk explodes with energy
Unbounded by Time's set inconstancy?
Importance lies where wor[l]dy interplay
Nets little save self echo's breviary.
Against Time's tide none ride, leaves green today
Lack lustre, sapless soon, roll over play.
Creation calls destruction, mystery
Unendingly recycled, constantly
Insipid aftertaste, lost flavour, grey.
No favour sways fickle sickle's fealty
Alas! Ball questions not life's 'Yea and Nay',
Lets bounce pronounce directions for role play,
Checked, Chance advance swift mated, Fate's decree.
Useless to appeal, squeal 'gainst spiel's fee,
In debt all ultimately must repay,
Nature's 'jeux sont faits', recoups fling's spree.
'Are there still Gods who souls with feathers weigh? '
Life's stings some cling to - just for one more day.
Chance led my dance, the rest is best set free,
Unsightly glance, dust in dust locked. Agree!
If reply lies decoding D.N.A.
Nature's template still shrouds secrecy.
(30 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Old Sea Saws and Modern Instances
Time's sea through which surfed story stares,
draws close and then again withdraws,
who’d wave away all weighting cares,
investigates Effect and Cause.
Effect and causal interplay
prismatic panoramas rare
prepare in an insightful way
for those who constantly compare
the patterns that, converging, wear
time’s face awhile, forgetting flaws,
altert to tempo, pace, space, - where
most stick to facts while clutching straws.
The swirling lights from faraway
switch to tomorrow’s and before’s
entwining helix holiday
which time and place in_tact ignores.
Though toadstool ring and elven flair
protect the glade from orcish claws,
there’s more than meets the eye as stair
leads long a track surprises stores.
Wild wonderland awaits as day
to dream surrenders that explores
relationships which on our way
we make or break, take from time’s jaws.
Coincidence some call repair
rewinding skeins of silken gauze
though very few remain aware
of links, elastic chains, as laws
invisible act out life’s play
turn and return each part as Cause
in equipoise may castaway
restore to health, wealth as implores
the rich for mercy. Lady fair
find behind beast’s ugly roars
the mind that steers her true welfare
hooks kind preparing for her oars.
Should panther seem to pounce today,
seek neither flight nor sword, because
dismay sows its own seeds and grey
more grey attracts, - avoid rapports
with self-made thunderstorms, forbear,
for one must wake within, applause
win through true harmony - who'd wear
contentment’s crown renown ignores…
Time's sea seems trap which mortals snares
draws curtains' close though mirage shores
would wave away all waiting's cares,
dreams ebb fresh paradise restores.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Mocking Bird, Mocking Man
he is sometimes
tempted to mimic a mockingbird
that mimics him
most of the times
on top of the tree fronting
his window where he
faces the sun and moon
the mockingbird mocks him the moment he mocks it
and he in turn mocks the mockingbird that mocks him when he mocks it
both of them are bored
and have nothing good to do
they mock each other
morning noon and nigh time
bird man bird, man bird man bird
in truth the man wants to be a mockingbird
in truth the mockingbird wants to be a man
the problem is
no one is talking and no one is listening
no one wants to be himself/itself forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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