Kite Flight
Fresh fanned breeze feels kite's counterwheels in energy reborn, whose light,
paints sense intense on bobbing reel, responds to current's second-sight.
Breeze buffet dance, ride's glides, conceals karmic trajectory of flight
reflecting semi-conscious zeal for aura some might call insight,
refers to life, conditions real, fetches few fancy phrases bright.
(13 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Kakemono Kites of Spring
Kite hung in cerulean sky
invites comparison to scroll
as string unwinds see colours roll
ascend, descend, as butterfly
breasting current, soaring high,
then gliding, fabric on cross pole
stitched, kakemono parabole
whose history of times passed by
or vibrant dragon scarcely shy,
prints memory one may unroll
when seeking causal links whose string
plays out or reins in Chance's sting.
Kakemono kite portrays
chromatic hieroglyph within
rollers wooden, yang and yin
invite a glance. Attention stays.
Beyond horizon's curtain haze
kami set reeled wheels a-spin,
mislaid sensations may begin
recalling soul-song 'spite life's maze.
If Fate some unseen hand obeys
No straight line logic can man pin, -
Knit your own links, spurn worldly din.
Advance, each forward step portrays
rung strung on ladder, represents
inked history's evanescence.
Fresh fanned breeze feels kite's counterwheels
in energy reborn, whose light,
responds to current's second-sight,
paints sense intense on bobbing reel.
Breeze buffet dance, rides' glides conceal
karmic trajectory for flight.
An aura some might call insight,
reflecting semi-conscious zeal
through these three sonnets shows appeal
needing no fancy phrases bright.
Kite flies to offer wings which might
refer to life's conditions real,
ressuscitates awareness, knows
seeds sown soon grow where'er wind blows.
for previous version entitled Magic Circle see below
Kakemono inked portrays
A magic circle where, within
Rollers wooden, yang and yin
Invite a glance. Attention stays.
Now chance has fuelled an inner blaze!
Kami set the wheels a-spin
As long lost feelings can begin
Recalling soul-song through Life's haze.
If Fate some unseen hand obeys
No straight line logic can man pin, -
Knit your own links, spurn worldly din.
Advance! Each step through life's mad maze
Rung on the ladder represents,
INside walls fall, - who needs defence?
Keep faith with Life and you will feel
An energy reborn, whose light,
Responding to some second-sight
Intense may sense bring to Fate's wheel.
Now motivations don't conceal!
Karmic call falls for free flight,
An aura some men call insight,
Reflecting inner, conscious zeal.
In this short sonnet my appeal
Needs no fancy phrases bright.
Kite flies to offer wings which might
Answer expectations real.
Recall all intuitions, know
INdeed that seeds sown soon shall grow!
(5 December 1996 revised 1 March 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Kite The Wind Took As If A Poem
You bought the kit,
couldn’t wait for Mum to clear the table
to spread its bits and pieces out
didn’t your Dad help you? Yes, of course –
those were the good times..
‘your Dad’… do we ever really realise
they had a life of their own,
not merely extras in the drama
of your life?
the wooden struts cut to length,
the careful, don’t hurry Michael cotton wound
around the glue, and then more glue,
put the top back on again Michael
or you’ll be sorry when you come to use it again…
what’s again, in a boy’s life? …
that special waterproofed paper
finally in place; Mum’s hair-dryer
cautiously used to tauten
the bright kite’s sail
not too near Michael,
read the instructions…
it’s alive now, the kite,
the two of you waiting
to learn about wind, even
what you thought a mere light breeze…
what strength! on that first outing
on the beach or in the park;
the mere light breeze
which as your kite sailed up there in the sky,
dipping, soaring around the other kites
like a half learned, half graceful dance
which the wind wrote
but you did not listen fully to:
a sudden pull of wind, a parting
somewhere between string and kite…
no longer your kite; now
it’s the wind’s kite
sailing off into the blue
to meet the clouds perhaps
was it your Dad, after
he too had been silent-sad,
or was it Mum as she wiped your face who said
the wind, the sky, loved it too much
to give it back
and so with poems.
Throw away the box and stuff
but keep the glue, it may, like memory,
come in useful
next time
and so with poems.
The wind, the sky,
deserve them for their own;
they can go further, faster, they’re more strong
than you;
let go the string, now, as it falls to earth;
watch the bright kite
till it's out of sight;
was it ever yours?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Matter Of Perspective
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measured time behind, mocks tight forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs, sees past's sting
engulfed in night-tide swing swirl, sings delight.
No frontiers stand between joy's tears, soul's flight,
and wonder as sight spans light - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon fey pattern weave paints second state...
robi03_1159_robi03_0000 ASX_NXX
previous title Sunset Pattern Paints
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Light Perceptions
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measurements behind, mocks time's forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs. Past’s sting
engulfed in night-tide’s swing swirl sings delight.
No frontiers twixt the tears of joy, soul's flight,
and wonder as the sight spans - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon the pattern paints a second state...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Bright Medusa
She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And we call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_;
From beneath her bosom bare
To the snakes among her hair
She's a flash o' golden light, the bright _Medu--sa_.
When the ensign dips above
And the guns are all for love,
She's as gentle as a dove, the bright _Medu--sa_;
But when the shot's in rack
And her forestay flies the Jack,
He's a merry man would slight the bright _Medu--sa_.
When she got the word to go
Up to Monte Video,
There she found the river low, the bright _Medu--sa_;
So she tumbled out her guns
And a hundred of her sons,
And she taught the Dons to fight the bright _Medu--sa_.
When the foeman can be found
With the pluck to cross her ground,
First she walks him round and round, the bright _Medu--sa_;
Then she rakes him fore and aft
Till he's just a jolly raft,
And she grabs him like a kite, the bright _Medu--sa_.
She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And you'll call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_;
For till England's sun be set--
And it's not for setting yet--
She shall bear her name by right, the bright _Medu--sa_.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Blanche
Breeze! brisk breeze! that movest with the morn!
Breeze! lithe breeze! that creepest through the corn!
Breeze! O breeze! that fannest the forlorn!
Oh linger by the lattice of sweet Blanche of mine!
Breeze! coy breeze! that loiterest for noon!
Breeze! true breeze! that hast a tryst with June!
Breeze! kind breeze! I beg of thee a boon!
Oh peep in through the lattice of poor Blanche of mine!
Breeze! fleet breeze! that goest with the day!
Breeze! dear breeze! that hastenest away!
Breeze! breeze! breeze! I beg of thee to stay,
And breathe upon the pillow of pale Blanche of mine!
Breeze! night-breeze! that wailest on the wold!
Breeze! lost breeze! that wanderest in the cold!
Breeze! dread breeze! oh flit not by the mould
Which shelters what is left me of lost Blanche of mine!
poem by Alfred Austin
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The insight
Without light, sight is no use.
Without sight, light is no use.
Eyes give sight and sight, insight.
Without insight, sight is blind.
15.06.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sundog Cataract
What seems sundog high by spry cataract
deserves a deeper look. Another light
reveals imagination's flow intact
Speed current echoes time's trip, clouds take flight
Waterfalls with dreams may interact
catalyze sense streams to spring insight
stimulate synaptic leaps spray backed
enhancing surf spill spells, responses bright
show space where cataract wraith-wracked
blinded with self-denial dark. Winged white
eddies fantastic, swirl-whirl, fears backtracked
ring confidence to share, bring twinned delight
Time riffles rift, strange spume fast sprays, gifts room
Rhyme ripples swift, change dooms past's plays, lifts gloom
10 September 2011
From Cataract to Enhanced Perceptions through Cataract
Acrostic Maude Corrieras
May what to some sunset on cataract
Appears at first sight, seen in other light
Unveils anticipation not the act
Draws sunrise, current's flow, woe's clouds in flight.
Each waterfall dreams stimulates, intact
Catalyzes stream sense, springs insight.
One's neverneverland? Blend nuance backed?
Revealed enchantment spills surf's answers bright
Revealing zones where mist before seemed wracked
In doubt and self-denial. Surf's wings white,
Eddies fantastical, swirl-whirl fears backtracked,
Ripple confidence, key shared delight.
Answers riffle home, fresh foam may flow
Splicing known once sown with what tomorrows show
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I'm A Small And Lonely Light
The stairs are dark and silent
The morning cold and gray
A last look at the things I knew
And slowly turn away
And as I watch the scenery unwind
My childhood slips a hundred miles behind
Leave the bus in Houston
Walk around the town
But all the strange, unfriendly faces
Seem to get me down
And in the park where little children play
I sit and watch the dying of the day
I'm a small and lonely light
A bird that's lost in flight
And it's too late at night to go home
I'm a tall and weary kite
A face that's out of sight
And it's too late at night to go home
Always had the good life
Never felt unsure
But now the good life's not enough
There must be something more
And so I sit and shiver in the dawn
And watch the world and wait to be reborn
I'm a small and lonely light
A bird that's lost in flight
And it's too late at night to go home
I'm a tall and weary kite
A face that's out of sight
And it's too late at night to go home
Too late at night to go home
But I've talked too long my friend
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insolvent for my friend Aldo
The silver leaves of aspen trees
which shimmer in the playful breeze.
Each separate leaf reflecting light
like newly minted coinage bright.
Quite soon will be a memory
as autumn winds strip every tree
until no single leaf is left
Their branches naked and bereft.
Though they still shiver in the breeze.
The naked branches do not please
the eye the way they used to do.
I long again to see the view
of silver laden aspen trees.
which dip and curtsy in the breeze..
28-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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From Cataract to Enhanced Perceptions through Cataract
May what to some sunset on cataract
Appears at first sight, seen in other light
Unveils anticipation not the act -
Draws sunrise, current's flow, woe's clouds in flight.
Each waterfall dreams stimulates, intact
Catalyzes stream sense, springs insight.
One's neverneverland? Blend nuance backed?
Revealed enchantment spills surf's answers bright
Revealing zones where mist before seemed wracked
In doubt and self-denial. Surf's wings white,
Eddies fantastical, swirl-whirl fears backtracked,
Ripple confidence, key shared delight.
Answers riffle home, fresh foam may flow
Splicing known once sown with what tomorrows show...
From Cataract to Enhanced Perceptions through Cataract
Acrostic Maude Corrieras
7 September 2009
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
see variation written 10 September 2011
Sundog Cataract
What seems sundog high by spry cataract
deserves a deeper look. Another light
reveals imagination's flow intact.
Speed current echoes time's trip, clouds take flight.
Waterfalls with dreams may interact,
catalyze sense streams to spring insight,
stimulate synaptic leaps spray backed,
enhancing surf spill spells, responses bright,
show space where cataract wraith-wracked
blinded with self-denial dark. Winged white
eddies fantastic, swirl-whirl, fears backtracked,
ring confidence to share, bring twinned delight.
Time riffles rift, strange spume fast sprays, gifts room,
Rhyme ripples swift, change dooms past's plays, lifts gloom.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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In Morning Breeze
A special day peeps
In amorning breeze
Coated with dews
Like Iron in zinc
It has such scary dish
Contained in a fury gold
Is awide rim
My energy piercing
coulds and goes up
Scorching stranger,
In the premise
of the earth
And gittering gold
Overlap the deed
There it goes, high in the sky
and the present breeze
never cut mr energy man
The loser, my breeze
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Im A Small & Lonely Light
(farrar/best)
The stairs are dark and silent
The morning cold and gray
A last look at the things I knew
And slowly turn away
And as I watch the scenery unwind
My childhood slips a hundred miles behind
Leave the bus in houston
Walk around the town
But all the strange, unfriendly faces
Seem to get me down
And in the park where little children play
I sit and watch the dying of the day
Im a small and lonely light
A bird thats lost in flight
And its too late at night to go home
Im a tall and weary kite
A face thats out of sight
And its too late at night to go home
Always had the good life
Never felt unsure
But now the good lifes not enough
There must be something more
And so I sit and shiver in the dawn
And watch the world and wait to be reborn
Im a small and lonely light
A bird thats lost in flight
And its too late at night to go home
Im a tall and weary kite
A face thats out of sight
And its too late at night to go home
Too late at night to go home
But Ive talked too long my friend
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sycamore Seed
Spinning slowly in the breeze
The sycamore seed follows blindly the random current of sun risen air
Unique to every other
It is driven by nature to reach beyond the realm
It's passage is graced with pirouetting design
On landing, who preys for its requiring conditions?
It is by chance alone that is made the sapling tree
It is by chance alone it's true purpose is realised
It is by chance alone, chance that chances collide
Catch your breeze
Spin wildly
Reach far
Chance that chance will be knocked by your will
Unique you are, spinning slowly in the breeze
poem by Stevie Taite
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The Laughter
As a lightning amidst the clouds,
that lightens even the darkest night,
does the laughter sounding so loud,
to the surroundings so very bright.
The sonance of the laughter is,
something that can never surfeit.
give me more of laughter, oh god,
that makes me and place very sweet.
Oh mighty, too high in honor,
has given a tressure unconspicious.
I shall call that sense of humor,
and use it liberally though precious.
As does the water in many a field,
does the laughter a drug to all disease.
To numb the pain out, like a shield
and makes so fresh as an evening breeze.
Like a dropp to quench for the thirsty throat,
and a cool gentle breeze in the sun so hot
does laughter the magic in the sadness caught
mind and soul and heart in deepest thought.
The light of a candle shall not blow out,
by however intense be the darkness poured.
The laughter will heal, where it breaks out,
even the sadest heart that is deeply gored.
Adding fragrance to the petals of a flower
is to make a happy person laugh. But the true power
of laughter is to bring to the face a grin
of the one that feels sad and lower.
Laughter is one that gives a shoulder to hug
while a lot others turn their back and shrug
to the heart down, heavy, blue and tight
like the warmth of a log fire in a freezing night.
Want to find ways to god? laugh without any block
thats one way, towards you, shall people flock.
spreading laughter and smiles shall, in thine
soul, bring in a quality enormously divine.
poem by Vinod Vijayakumar
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The Eye of Beauty
Krishna passed that mountain many times;
and yet his followers observed that day
that all his mind was filled with fresh delight
as if he'd never walked, nor seen, that way;
the beauty of the mountain ever new,
the moment of its sight, the world reborn;
the mind surprised by what it always knew:
the beauty past all beauty's name and form.
This is true beauty, in ourself revealed:
a sight that's ever fresh, yet ever known;
which eye sees pure, yet mind too oft conceals:
God's unity, in beauty seen; all, One;
The moment's grace of beauty, ours all day;
from outward eye the sight of inward Way.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Anthology Prepared
His wish was wit with wisdom well to wed
within an epigram, - he found instead
some thought slight wit was there and that was slight,
he witless seemed to others, lacked insight.
He kept in sight their criticism there,
and kept from sight verse, parodies hors pair,
for some insipid seemed, rose-water, trite, -
but then began to fly another kite.
He pruned, he tuned, communed, was often led
to pulp the offspring fond that Time had bled,
until the flow could sew in framwork tight
both harmony and sense, in fancy’s flight.
For the first time he’s spurred to offer fare, -
incisive works beyond the critics’ care,
will cast no anxious glance to who’d indict
with bark or bite the verses seen tonight.
Dust swept by one who sought to look ahead,
through Internet a reputation spread, -
but what is fame, a lighthouse in the night,
a passing beam before eternal night...
May this collection transcend Time the slayer,
to challenge finite ends is poet’s prayer.
May this selection stimulate, invite
reflection, humour, pleasure bright.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fresh Dimensions
Magic passion lifts aloft life’s song,
as love's light flexes butterfly-bright wings,
unchains hope's scope, reclaims aims' heartfelt rings,
dreams forward stream, finds feelings fair and strong.
Enigmas are resolved - false right, true wrong -
curb rash rush to judgement, insight brings
on innate understanding, softly sings
revealing fresh dimensions where “belong”
real empathy may entertain, prolong.
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings,
exile Time’s agression, salve past stings -
response sees through all torture-mirage tongs
attains new plane where each from each learns much,
spins sentiments meant to enhance shared touch.
10 June 2006 revised 18 May 2008 for previous version see below
Breathless passion lifts aloft life’s song,
Existence flexes butterfly-bright wings,
Leads to true aims attained, - unchained heart rings
Ideal dream’s forward stream, finds feelings strong.
No preconceptions air false right, true wrong,
Dare rush to judgement, for fresh insight brings
An innate understanding as scope sings
Boundless expansion where the word “belong”
Empathy may entertain, prolong.
Leave Time’s agression, all unpleasant stings,
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings.
New doors lead into sharing far from nong!
Draw inspiration to enhance and cheer
A reach where each from each learns vision clear.
10 June 2006
Fresh Dimensions Poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Breeze
An early evening summer breeze
Gently glides over my bare skin,
And suddenly without warning
I am utterly aware that everything touches everything
again and again -
For just a brief moment
I stand outside of all boundaries,
A mist in my eyes
Realizing life -like warmth in the air- is all around me -
In reverence I can only watch
As the soft wind glows,
With the light of life it has gleaned
While passing through my soul -
The breeze moves along,
Leaving me, back to me;
Yet the feeling of connectedness lingers on,
With an understanding of things, I cannot see -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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There’s a new breeze coming
There is a new breeze coming
It is whispering to my ear
There is a new morning coming
There is a new sun
There is a new breeze coming
It is so so refreshing
Making all my burdens lighter
My heart is not heavy
My thoughts are happier
That this new breeze
Everything has become light
Like the weigthlessness of a butterfly
Fluttering to the melody of
This new soft breeze
There is a new promise
There’s a new breeze coming
There is a new morning
There is a new breeze coming
From my home, sweet home.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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