Related quotes: Seventy seasons sliced by harvest...

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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Related quotes

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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It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'

The Reign of Death

Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Comedy of Errors

COMEDY OF ERRORS

Shrew tamed, All's Well, though here is Much Ado!
Antony and Cleopatra met
No Rape, no Tragedy, since each stayed true,
Grave born, like Romeo and Juliet.
Thus Richard, John and Harry had preferred
One History where each could heed thy call!
Measured each Tempest's threat is, for unheard
All envy's Comic Error is withal!
My love as Pilgrim Passionate here's signed,
As Venus to Adonis here allied,
Urge Lover's Complaint in neatest verse aligned, -
Dove Turtle are to Phoenix true supplied.
Echoed are Plays with Sonnets' sequent frame,
Continued may sustain Shakespearian flame.

12 November 1990 revised 22 September 2008 as Sonnet CLXXIV Maude Care Is Our Dream Shakespeare's Plays Parodies
robi03_0356_robi03_0000 PAS_MXX

… original version Sandrine Sonnet Cycle

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Mask

Hope - twisted image seen through mental mask,
Accepted self-delusion counterfeit,
Perhaps to help man’s conscience counter fate,
Perhaps to tint the rainboy. Many ask
In disarray the question 'What joys last? '
Now, the Present - an elastic date, -
Extends until it snaps, while 'soon' is late.
So little time remains till we are 'Past'.
Some think themselves a mirage, say their task
Allotted compensating former state
Misguided - yet in times when troubles spate
A help for blind from foetus to the cask.
So though some cling to crutch, to token creeds,
Karmic beliefs as such seem broken reeds.

21 November 1991 revised 20 December 2006
robi03_0488_robi03_0000 ASX_DJZ

for previous version entitled Happiness a Mask see below

Happiness, - A Mask

Hope is a mirrored image of man's mask,
Arranged in manner often counterfeit, -
Perhaps to help his conscience counter fate,
Perhaps to tint the rainboy. Man may ask
In disarray the question 'What joys last? '
Now, - the Present - an elastic date,
Extends until it snaps, while 'soon' is late.
So little time remains till we are 'Past'.
Some think themselves a mirage, say a task
Allotted is to compensate their state -
Mistaken! - yet in times when troubles spate
A help for blind from foetus to the cask.
So though some need a token creed as crutch
Karmic beliefs seem broken reeds as such...

Acrostic sonnet Happiness a Mask
21 November 1991

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
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Cycles

When Dave Priest died grave sexton told
to toll bell well for corpse stone cold -
from epiderm to earthworm’s feast
star studded sports sporadic yeast.

The moral reads: reeds brave, deeds bold,
berth bends to end which breaks birth's mould.
Mould broken, mould returned, at least
is he released from life once leased.

Though pitter-pat or thud, thud, thud,
warm blood turns into tainted mud,
must musty dust depart, heart ceased,
Time’s gavel knocks down man and beast.

As cycles spin, out's in's template,
who sees the light before dark fate?

When Dave died grave sexton was told
to toll the bell for one grown old, -
now he is young again, released
from epiderm to earthworm’s feast.

The moral is, however bold,
all bend to end which breaks the mould.
Mould broken, mould returned, as least
is he who highest life once leased.

So whether bid or oversold
warm blood soon rudderless and cold
must musty dust turn heart beat ceased,
Time’s gavel sells off man and beast.

Though cycles swift accelerate,
who sees the light before dark fate?

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Then What?

When two no longer share from day to day
love set to span eternal rainbow years,
encounter prematurely hell's harsh way
when, unprepared, warmth wanes in winter’s tears,

when morn lights up wan mourning heart apart,
when cold creeps irrespective of bright ray,
when what was wed is sudden torn apart,
when was was said can’t be explained away,

when Past’s outcast, when there’s no second start,
when all horizons darken into one,
when time’s conveyed on sodden tumbrel cart,
warp weft reft patterns warped, thread dead, undone,

when, where two played, one, sad, remains, cheeks grey -
what then … when there is nothing more to say?

27 September 1996 revised 3 December 2008 and 22 April 2009
robi03_0830_robi03_0000 SXX_DJZ

for previous version see below

Then What?

When two no longer share from day to day
love that should have spanned the rainbow of the years,
prepared hell prematurely in their way,
as when warmth meets with Winter’s frosty tears,

when dawn lights up a mourning heart apart,
when cold creeps up regardless of bright ray,
when what was wed is sudden torn apart,
when was was said can’t be explained away,

when Past’s outcast, when there’s no second start,
when all horizons darken into one,
when time’s conveyed upon a tumbril cart,
when warp and weft and pattern are undone,

when where two played but one remains, cheeks grey, -
what then, … when there is nothing more to say?

27 September 1996

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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Ambiguity Arose - after Rose Aylmer Walter Savage LANDOR

Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
for Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.

Where is the flush, the lush embrace,
starred eyes that carefree twinkled?
Night draws its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries sinkled.

Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and voice divinely tinkled,
if all behind be ugly, base,
with mind both blind and wrinkled?

Some say unique is every case,
eyes amber, periwinkled,
yet all too soon return to base,
AND DNA's ash sprinkled.

Oh, What avails a pretty face,
bright eye sublimely crinkled,
each must a double lie encase
life left confirms this inkle!

© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0313 parody written 17 December 1991 revised 14 May 2007 and 31 October 2008 Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer for previous versions - title Rose Aylmer's Cousin - see below

Rose Aylmer's Cousin

Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
as Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.

Where is the flush, the lush embrace,
starred eyes that carefree twinkled?
Night draws its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries sinkled.

Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and voice dIvinely tinkled,
if all behind be ugly, base,
with mind both blind and wrinkled?

Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and eye sublimely crinkled,
should it a double lie encase
and life confirm this inkle? ...

Rose Aylmer's Cousin

Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
for Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.

The flush once full that did embrace,
those eyes that carefree twinkled,
Night pulls its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries crinkled.

Rose Aylmer

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and signs
I consecrate to thee.

Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864

Page and Pageant

Page, pageant, dreams veil daily quail trail tale.
Advancing age culls w[r]inkled p[r]awns, the Gods
Gain one by one life's pieces till dank sods
Enwrap what, carefree once, aped beauty hale.
Another well earned ‘bust’! Who strong were, [f[r]]ail
Now lie forgotten for Time's ruthless odds
D[r]own [fl]out all memory. Man's born, his nods
Prevail threescore before [str]etched powers fail
As one more stem beneath the thresher's flail,
Gathered in, is merged with claymate clods.
Each eager starts the day, home weary plods
As night light swallows, chaff before the gale.
NIRVANA's spell is scuttled in VAIN RAN
Thief Time’s [d]ice reef brief grief leaf life of Man.

(10 June 1992 revised 18 October 2006/Poem © Jonathan ROBIN Acrostic sonnet – Page and Pageant)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Poetical Triptych Trick Trip

POETICAL TRIPTYCH TRICK TRIP
I

Poetry is metamorphosis
Of heart and mind combined, -
Emotions surge to urge osmosis,
To merge what ‘chance’ can find
Revealed behind blind synthesis
Yoking letters neatly lined.

Poetry is music by another name,
Or in some manner harmony applied,
Explaining day to day occurrences supplied
To offer eurythmic interpretation game
Responding with logic on magic patter[n] frame.
Yet the alphabetic formula hid inside
Enables one to say one’s peace, with self confide
Much which must, ecstatic, “out”. Emotion’s flame
Outpours feelings plastic, amoeba-like to claim
The victim of elastic interplay to guide
Instincts in search of prey. But, pray, what when the tide
Of energy harmonic falters, who’s to blame?
Not soul but spirit enters into print,
Sends signals out which others’ glasses tint.

III

Poetry: alphabetical exercise linguistical
Overcoming excess, slick success stylistical,
Excluding artifice artistical, puny puristical,
To create with comprehensive characteristical
Respect for rythm, rhyme and meaning meta-magic mystical -
Yet melting emotions alchemistical.

11 September 1995 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_0770_robi03_0000 ASX_IXX

Poetical Triptych Trick Trip poem © Jonathan Robin

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
TRIPTYCH STITCH SANDWICH TRIP TIP
S[w]ing...Heart'S....String
Thoughts.Ch arT......These
In............TempI......Ideas
Taut....... .InstanT....Tempting
Click........TantriC.....Chic
Hear........ SandwicH.Here

triple acrostic written 22 November 2006 revised 23 May 2008

Triptych Stitch Sandwich Trip Tip poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP

String on Heart’s skeinS,
Threads tie, Cast, kniT!
In time, Train I
Taut pins In, ouT,
Click clack. TantriC -
Heaven Sends sigH

14 May 1996
robi03_0810_robi03_0000 AXX_IMX

Triptych Stitch Trip poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP II

S[tr]ing...H eart’S
Thought C harT
In...........T empI
Taut.......I nstanT
Click......T antriC -
Here......S andwicH

triple acrostic
22 November 2006
robi03_1508_robi03_0000 AQX_IKX

Triptych Stitch Trip II poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

TRYPTICH
Drip, drip, drip, slip trip
trickle ignores Time’s sickle
drop, drop, dropp crypt..tic

24 October 2006 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_1484_robi03_0000 HXX_ZXX

Tryptich poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Triptych Stitch Trip

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIII
TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP

String on Heart’s skeinS,
Threads tie, Cast, kniT!
In time, Train I
Taut pins In, ouT,
Click clack. TantriC -
Heaven Sends sigH

14 May 1996
robi03_0810_robi03_0000 AXX_IMX

Triptych Stitch Trip poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP II

S[tr]ing...H eart’S
Thought C harT
In...........T empI
Taut.......I nstanT
Click......T antriC -
Here......S andwicH

triple acrostic
22 November 2006
robi03_1508_robi03_0000 AQX_IKX

Triptych Stitch Trip II poem © Jonathan Robin

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
TRIPTYCH STITCH SANDWICH TRIP TIP
S[w]ing...Heart'S....String
Thoughts.Ch arT......These
In............TempI......Ideas
Taut....... .InstanT....Tempting
Click........TantriC.....Chic
Hear........ SandwicH.Here

triple acrostic written 22 November 2006 revised 23 May 2008

Triptych Stitch Sandwich Trip Tip poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
TRYPTI CH
Drip, drip, drip, slip trip
trickle ignores Time’s sickle
drop, drop, dropp crypt..tic

24 October 2006 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_1484_robi03_0000 HXX_ZXX

Tryptich poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
POETICAL TRIPTYCH TRICK TRIP
I

Poetry is metamorphosis
Of heart and mind combined, -
Emotions surge to urge osmosis,
To merge what ‘chance’ can find
Revealed behind blind synthesis
Yoking letters neatly lined.

III

11 September 1995 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_0770_robi03_0000 ASX_IXX

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIII

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Tear's Candle

NEW TEAR'S CANDLE

Now here, now fled, bright light's soon snuffed, clock ticks,
E xistence fragile echoes with life’s play
W here visibility’s trimmed to today.
T ime up, ambitions down, as candle wicks
E xpire upon some midnight cold Fate picks.
A month or more, before horizons grey
R educe tired final flickers cinder gay, -
S pendthrift embers. Moving finger pricks
O ut bubble options, cares nor fiddlesticks
N or tinker’s curses for chance thrown away,
N or seeks reprieve for an extended stay. –
E phemeral our sojourn’s augenblicks.
T he loaf of bread, the flask of wine, boon mate,
S oon wane, recycled wax, evaporate.

1 January 2006 revised 8 September 2007
robi03_1400_robi03_0000 ASX_DEZ
Previous title New Tear's Sonnets

New Tear's Candle poem © Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Grass Roots' Glass Parody Witter Bynner Spectra Current Version

All flesh is grass
and all its goodness like the flower of the field
The grass withers, the flower wilts
and the word of our God stands forever
Indeed, the people are grass.
Isaiah 40

Death ripe reaps, mower, Man, grass in life's fields,
no blade but to His blade wraith ghost soon yields.
Swiftly, surely, sharpened scythe shall pass
To gather tithe in time with Time's hour glass.
So little's garnered, strength that fond youth wields
soon sinks, who thinks winks ink earthquakeproof bields
finds loss in toss, soon tossed aside, morass
awaits sass lass, rank mocking rank, race, class.

Though each would sow
fresh seeds to show
true traces flow,
through/in/ on grow
in ALL all know
alas we pass
but once through farce
before Time's crow
thrice calls, with no
reprieve and so
weeds overgrow...
All bravado
winds staccato
turn tornado
away soon blow
breath's ribboned bow,
'mid worms below
life's strife trace race stow.

So, Mower, mow,
sweep all who weep,
would keepsakes keep,
with final coup de grâce.

(14 February 2010)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Triptych Stitch Sandwich Trip Tip

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIII
TRIPTYCH STITCH SANDWICH TRIP TIP
S[w]ing...Heart'S....String
Thoughts.Ch arT......These
In............TempI......Ideas
Taut....... .InstanT....Tempting
Click........TantriC.....Chic
Hear........ SandwicH.Here

triple acrostic written 22 November 2006 revised 23 May 2008

TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP

String on Heart’s skeinS,
Threads tie, Cast, kniT!
In time, Train I
Taut pins In, ouT,
Click clack. TantriC -
Heaven Sends sigH

14 May 1996
robi03_0810_robi03_0000 AXX_IMX

TRIPTYCH ST....ITCH TRIP II

S[tr]ing...H eart’S
Thought C harT
In...........T empI
Taut.......I nstanT
Click......T antriC -
Here......S andwicH

triple acrostic
22 November 2006
robi03_1508_robi03_0000 AQX_IKX

TRYPTICH
Drip, drip, drip, slip trip
trickle ignores Time’s sickle
drop, drop, dropp crypt..tic

24 October 2006 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_1484_robi03_0000 HXX_ZXX

Poetry is metamorphosis
Of heart and mind combined, -
Emotions surge to urge osmosis,
To merge what ‘chance’ can find
Revealed behind blind synthesis
Yoking letters neatly lined.

III

11 September 1995 revised 23 May 2008
robi03_0770_robi03_0000 ASX_IXX

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIII

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Requiem II - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem

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.

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.

Requiem I

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.

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Standing Out for the Outstanding

An hour, pretty flower, I’m agreed for,
a night, what delight beyond dreams!
a week would be bliss I would bleed for,
a month might be magic, it seems.
But a year, Dear, is more than I’d plead for,
though the hope for osmosis still gleams:
for longer, - as yet I’m not keyed for
although Love bright and bravely now beams.
to capture each rapture and encore,
if encore there be - how Time streams! -
and if I be THE one you would breed for
why not tarry a tide, b[r]ide as teams?

(Initial poem previous title A_Greed 5 June 1992 © Jonathan ROBIN
Parody revised 4 May 2005 as collaborative ring 43 contributions)

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

Foreplay

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