Pevolution
Pathways towards parthenogenesis
though today’s Science Fiction may seem,
tomorrow shall channel - no pen*s is
indispen[i]sable, that’s a pipe dream!
© Jonathan Robin 23 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Kiss Met Kismet - After Austin Dobson A Kiss and James Leigh Hunt Jenny Kissed Me
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
making pass I attack
Jenny's tongue tied and, thwack!
she kissed me right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
seemed to show on right track
was my rapid clic-clac.
Yet at dawn on the morrow
she hastened to pack
and the taxi fare borrow
though I'd thought myself crack
minglling tongue tastes, alack...
tingling young hastes allegro!
revised 11 March 2012 after Austin Dobson A Kiss and James Leigh Hunt Jenny Kissed Me for previous versions see below
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
in the ‘Ars' I've a knack
while admiring her rack
with my strong chimney stack.
That she kissed me right back
no remonstrance, no sorrow,
with a pat on the back,
neither heartbreak nor flack,
nor regret for some lack,
seemed to show on right track
was strategic attack -
as the French say ‘crack crack! '
But before dawn the morrow
she'd so rapidly pack -
what is white, what is black? -
and eclipsed herself solo
proving victory hollow
with a law-suit to follow.
3 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008 revised 25 January 2009
Kiss Met Kismet
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
she kissed me right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
seemed to show on right track
was my rapid attack.
Yet at dawn on the morrow
she hastened to pack
and the taxi fare borrow!
3 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008 for previous version see below
A Kiss - The Reply
I kissed Rose right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
showing on the right track
was my rapid attack
I received on the morrow: -
so why would she pack
and the taxi fare borrow?
(3 August 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I Came, I Saw, Who Conquered?
I CAME, I SAW, WHO CONQUERED?
Music sudden waved Time's blight,
An incarnation of delight
Unchallenged. Naught continued to
Deny bright beauty, spirit true.
Each blush rose paled, blood ruby too.
Magnificence expelling night,
Acknowledged inner thirst quenched through
Unequalled charm, dream beamed delight
DEfying definitions trite.
Magical our planet blue
Appears to Nature, taps into
Unsullied streams of rainbow hue.
Descriptions fail. These splendours span
Eternities unguessed by man.
28 October 1992 revised 12 October 2008
robi03_0620_robi03_0000 ASX_LXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Science Fiction Woman
She was my science fiction woman,
I was her science fiction man,
Yet our love was no fiction
In our science fiction land.
I wore my science fiction spacesuit,
She wore a spacesuit just like mine,
While we were floating together
In our science fiction minds.
She said her name was Taylor Trippy-
A flower child light years beyond-
She was a science fiction hippy-
A spacey and vivacious blonde.
She told me of our global warming,
Greenhouse gases, acid rain,
She told me everything I know
About the structure of the brain.
So we cruised through constellations
In our science fiction ship,
Transcending time and generations-
Forever free, forever hip.
She came from some unknown planet
In some uncharted galaxy,
And we were both kindred souls
In our cosmic fantasy.
And I don't know how I knew her
Or how we came to meet that night-
She was my science fiction woman,
Who traveled at the speed of light.
At night I look upon the ocean,
The distant stars where she might be-
She was my science fiction woman,
Who set my heart forever free.
June 17,2008
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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A Kiss, The Reply - Parody Austin DOBSON A Kiss
I kissed Rose right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
showing on the right track
was my rapid attack
I received on the morrow: -
so why would she pack
and the taxi fare borrow?
3 August 1991
Coppers Killed Me
Coppers killed me when we met,
jumping on the tube I sat in;
Magistrate, who loves to get
treats into your list, put that in!
Say I fought the terror fad,
say that “conscience clear” describes me,
say you’re growing old, don’t add, -
Coppers missed me!
Coppers killed me when we met,
hitting on the seat I sat in;
Acting circumstantial bet
eight hits, three misses, put that in!
Say I sought no terror fad,
say that “from bombs free” describes me,
say I’m growing cold, don’t add, -
Coppers killed me!
../..
Error wracks me today,
terror tracks you tomorrow,
let it be as it may,
pain from plain clothes turned grey.
Should tomorrow replay
such a savour of sorrow: -
what for you, safe today, -
is in store for tomorrow?
I could never fire back
like that, without sorrow,
and eight bullets through back
showed after attack
on the Stockwell tube track.
The report on the morrow: -
was on the wrong tack
did from fantasy borrow!
Terror slew me today,
error you risk tomorrow!
Violence came into play
which my life did waylay -
do you share the dismay
at what might come tomorrow?
There’ll be devil to pay
what excuse will YOU borrow?
August 15 2005
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?
© Jonathan Robin – Parody author unknown possibly Witter Bynner written 3 January 1992 revised 8 October 2006 previous title Winds
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Voice Over Internet Priorities
Here, through the poet's eye, streams thought beam rare,
A theme dream strings an urgent present prayer -
Readies word play, end-to-end relay,
Preparing rhyme schemes, primes dreams, layer on layer,
Plans now to bridge the gap twixt fiction, fact,
Leaving ethics, principles, intact.
As Internet expands, Change leads the way, -
Yet do not hesitate, - 'just do it', act!
Today tomorrow scans, some who rejoice
Offered an unprecedented choice,
Spurred by innovative interplay,
Will wish they’d harder worked to save free voice.
As online blurs old boundaries today
Youth shows old how to grow, brooks no delay...
27 August 1999 Harp play to sway
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sane seems insane
Societal challenge: momentum gathers pace.
Another thirty years? our span of grace
Now seems in meltdown clinging to a space
Extremely tenuous, fragile as race
Speeds to untimely end for human race.
Early or late trend tends towards disgrace,
Early or late Fate leaves behind no trace -
May in December ends in any case.
Sane and in[s]ane identically chase
Ideals predestined to black hole bleak. Brace
Now before bleak winds of change unlace
Storms Richter scarce suspected and uncase
Apocalypse which ‘progress’ will replace.
Necks thrust through Time's noose, loose ends, harsh Past
End of Days Present, Future b[l]ind - die cast.
1 December 1991 revised 31 October 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sheepish Bo Peep Recombined
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
and cannot tell where to find them,
splice more DNA for cloning today
with no zoning law to unwind them...
[c] Jonathan Robin Parody Bo Peep written 27 November 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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
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Decimal Points
DECIMAL POINTS
One minute here, hearsay the next,
Two minutes: paradise expects.
Third minute: second thoughts await
Fourth minute explanations late.
Fifth minute weighs past ghast, selects
Sixth sense intuitive, elects
Seventh heaven to anticipate
Eighth step towards tomorrow's fate.
Ninth minute choice and chance connects
To tenth, upon return reflects.
Author notes
challenge:
1. Die for 10 minutes.
2. Let the thought of demise mold you.
3. Wrap yourself as a gift of experience through poetry.
1 August 2008
robi03_1796_robi03_0000 XXX_ZXX
Decimal Points poem © Jonathan Robin written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Jenny at the Demonstration after James Leigh Hunt Jenny Kissed Me
Copper slugged me when we met,
jumping from the bus he’d sat in!
Magistrate, who loves to get
demonstrators jailed, put that in!
Say I fought the Poll Tax fad,
say that “conscience clear†describes me,
say I’m doing time, but add, -
Copper slugged me!
(10 August 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Tomorrow
Tomorrow it is
Tomorrow we will
See where the roads they lead
Tomorrow's my dream
Tomorrow's the better me
Tomorrow never may be
Looking inside tomorrow's head
Tomorrow pretends to be brain dead
Tomorrow wants me to long for him
I spend today seeing tomorrow's beam
Tomorrow is there
Yesterday's tomorrow is here
Yet tomorrow I seek
My lamp's got enough oil and wick
Tomorrow where are you?
I've seen today but I look out for tomorrow's dew
Not today, I'll take care of that tomorrow
Tomorrow I'm here, tomorrow you're today
From 5years old, I'm 50years old one more day
The hour-glass spins and sands they turn
The clock it ticks, the second-hand warns
Tomorrow is today gone
What have you done? .
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Science Fiction is not just about the future of space ships travelling to other planets, it is fiction based on science and I am using science as my basis for my fiction, but it's the science of prehistory - palaeontology and archaeology - rather than astronomy or physics.
quote by Jean M. Auel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Threescore years and Ten
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Make Tomorrow
Put on the dress in which you were married
Pull down the veil til your eyes are hid
Can you remember where we both came from
Let us do as we did
Look at tomorrow today
Making tomorrow today
Making tomorrow today
Making tomorrow today
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow today
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow today
Put back the photo under your window
Put down the phone that you hold in your hand
Put away these things that stand in between us
Let us be what we can
When it seems
Hopeless
When it seems
Hopeless
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow today
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow today
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow today
What better measure of what you were doing here
Then what you can leave behind
All the children of your children's children
Do you ever think what they're going to find
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Where the sacred meet the scared
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
Where the dreamer's dream is dared
In each of us
A dream can burn like the sun
Let's try it all one more time
To get this lesson learned
Sitting up in a spaceship
Looking down at the earth
You wonder what they all stuggling for
What's it all really worth
Making tomorrow today
Making tomorrow today
Make tomorrow
Make tomorrow
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tomb or Treasure - Acrostic Sonnet
Il dépend de celui qui passe
que je sois tombe ou trésor,
que je parle ou me taise,
ceci ne tient qu’à toi –
Ami, n’entre pas sans désir... Paul Valéry
Tomb or treasure? Both hint musty hold
Of dust which when against a feather weighed
Must be found wanting - uprightness unpaid.
Beauty: barter bait, ghost lure lost gold.
Oh, no allure escapes Time’s stranglehold.
Regrets are rife. All qualities displayed
Time, heedless, turns to ashes which degrade
Reason as its season can’t enfold
Eternity, both sot and sage had sold
All precious for an extra life-line frayed,
Sold soul for sole extension core betrayed.
Unprincipled, most sleep through life's poor scold,
Regret chance dance, askance refuse, lose way -
Expect advancement, heedless, seedless st[r]ay...
17 December 1991 revised 15 October 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Awakening for Seasons
Alarm call signal beeps, wakes life to hope.
While vague, untidy heap stirs, seeking soap.
Above white sheets eyes peep – ‘collide a scope’
Knaps excerpt from sleep's waves, attempts to cope
Extracts dream-echoes deep which telescope
Nano half-lives, fragile figments elope.
Isolated fragments salmon-surface grope
Now mid the mind’s adjustments, knot loose rope,
Glimpse anchors dreams yet keeps thoughts in their scope.
Flashes snow sheep show, recounted hope
Of t[r]apping spring of sleep... dream’s periscope.
Rise above life's challenge slope!
SEA-change awaits as crocus, once snowbound,
SONg sings which trees decks green, gifts green to ground.
7 December 1991 revised 12 April 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dis Solution Dissipation
Weighted with darkness of impending doom
each waits alone, alike to friend and foe
as deaf as stone, as heedless of each blow.
Who cares what curtains drape eternal gloom?
No will, however strong, when death will loom,
pride vaunts oblivious to oblivion's slow
approaching icy grip from tip to toe -
as though dissolving essence could make room
for Hope at Act’s end. Wormcast catacomb,
Life’s dust dispersal tomb rehearsal show
is headlong blown along Time’s one way flow,
tomorrow naught can conjure from Past's womb.
From darkness stark may flesh fresh flake again,
unfettered spark, from wake wake, cry_oh_gain! ?
© Jonathan Robin – sonnet robi3_0612 written 17 January 2001 revised 11 April 2008
previous title - Into Dust Dissolve
cry_oh_gain... cryogen
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Is One Blamed?
Silence is golden, guilt remains ashamed
to hold up to the spotlight’s piercing glare
sentiments submersive, - is one blamed
if feelings are confided, shown to share?
One little thought to sense love’s lightening strike,
topple defensive certainties! The door,
once triple locked, is sprung, unsportsmanlike,
yet that which leaves one poor rich makes one more!
Rich one through knowing t’other, outlook clear,
poor when discovered what was lacked before
shows distance from the truth, who ‘self’ held dear.
This understanding makes self ‘self’ abhor.
Thus these short lines should shun flight, favour hope,
To-morrow’s stars spotlight bright horoscope.
(29 October 1992, revised 2 May 2007, final couplet modified 15 October 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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