Poetic Instrumentation & Orthographic Aptitudes
Poetry beats time with rhyme in motion.
Pulse vibrates and impulse stimulates
pen which explores, redraws, accentuates,
excites the mind, can catalyze emotion
to seize degrees. Thoughts harmonize at rates
ecstatic as imagination’s ocean
synaptic swirls, and, touching, contemplates,
sees the light, s[w]ings fancy’s flight. Thought’s potion
magic expands bright insight, oscillates,
collides, oh scope, with wave-tune vibe commotion
and thus invents, interprets or translates
transforms, what started as an idle notion
as inner ear hears and reverberates
chromatic context, feelings for[u]mulates.
8 March 2005 revised 17 August 2008
robi03_1073_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
Poetic Instrumentation Poem © Jonathan Robin
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ORTHOGRAPHIC APTITUDES
Orthographic aptitudes imply
Reasoned thought, well taught, but this may mean
Too much rigour, narrow mind though clean,
Heavy hand which all loose ends would tie.
Originality is worth a try -
Granting poetic licence in between
Rhyming lines on paper, on the screen,
Answers find with mind both “how” and “why”
Phasing, phrasing, which need nought deny.
Have, therefore, patience for the soul should glean
Inner meanings far from surface sheen
Creating an osmosis by and by.
Communication spelling's rules transcends,
Music tunes [p]runes all true creation t[r]ends...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lost for Words
LOST FOR WORDS
The art of writing's such a sport
with styles of every kind and sort
that not to try would be a tort.
Synaptic leaps can keep, support,
ideas which interlink, report
mind melodies naught need contort
as eyes observant insight court:
imagination is my forte - right!
As interlocking lines of thought
are threaded neatly, tautly brought
to heel, reined in, discreetly taught
to underscore ideas, here’s sought
communication vectors caught
in lightning thought wave flashes short,
coherent, to the point! ... Now ought
I not recall the subject about which I meant to write?
1st verse written 29 July 2008 second? July 1 2007
robi03_1397_robi03_0000 WXX_IXX
Lost for Words poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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.
II
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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Outside Imposed Restraints
OUTSIDE IMPOSED RESTRAINED
Hope rune reads, feeds into the tune of time and place
outside imposed restraints, discovers overview
appropriate - each paints, surpassing déjà vu,
nuances which conspue both bluff, pretension base,
insight’s flight lendIng clue to future each should trace.
Each must just Way define, line draw, temptations rue,
before and after twine. 'Unto thyself stay true! '
seems added quite on cue when 'Brave New World' all face.
Keen every mind which knew the need to tap fresh base,
expansion guaranteed, to fill hole darkness drew, -
set doubts behind when greed left bleeding heart - thus grew
the Will to fly anew, uncertainties replace.
Night phase ends, one, free, starts, hope turns, new tack, to find
bright gaze sends sun, the heart’s scope learns to track true mind.
2 August 1999
robi03_0897_robi03_0000 SXX_EJZ
Outside Imposed Restraints Poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirrors in the Mind
MIRRORS IN THE MIND
Multilingual input generates
interactions as synaptic flows
call into question limits scaled, propose
an interplay as mind anticipates
alternate routes, exploring hidden gates.
Mirrors in the mind too many close,
moderate intensity whose throws
enthusiastic challenge all that calculates
Nature spontaneous, feelings calibrates.
Deny those compromises others chose,
express beyond all verse, beyond all prose
tenderness which sharing stimulates.
Mute who'd remain who happiness has found? -
in tune responsive, tone whose depths astound...
3 November 2001
robi03_0963_robi03_0000 SXX_JMX
Mirrors in the Mind poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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.
II
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
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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 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
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.
II
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
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thoughtwave Ode Meditation Light
Thinklings, winking, pattern energy
Here, there, there, here, no difference need make
Open, closed, or circular they stake
Unique claim with a time frame we
Grock into when it suits, or elsewhere flee.
How cycles spin? Mistakes repeat mistake
To twin with hidden truth asleep-awake
Which bide their time yet still abide, still see
A fractal fraction of eternity,
Vista vision appetites may slake,
Ends turn beginnings after double-take
Or give and take to catalyze to be.
Duet well met by moonlight, dawn is seen,
Each being all, all each, and in between
Magic glade where sunlight slants today
Enchants the inner eye's kaleidoscope,
Drives thoughts from thoughts to thoughts, expanding scope
In resonance with radiant display
That echoes through the intellect to play
A rune tune which reflects reflections Hope
Transforms from bud, bark, bowl, grass, leaf, to dope
Ideas, fears put to flight, as interplay
Opens, takes cue from Nature Fey,
New ground explores, doors opens, helps all cope.
LInks to synaptic tracks from verdant slope
Garner insight rich which, on the way,
Heal pollution in all senses, sends
The signal sought that all confusion ends.
Moonshine madness or an open book
imprinted with key code of cause, expect?
Rainbow skeins need braiding to effect
Real interactions earning second look.
Open anticipation's neurone hook
Reels waft and weft combines, twines, intersects.
New energies spontaneous, direct,
Effectoive focus finds, sheds gobbledygook
Unwinds conventions staid, that overlook
Real essentials, conflicts few correct.
One filter chaff from grain, detects defects
Nonsense, lies ife's books too often cooks.
Ideals respec, spurn rules' blind lines to find
Creative font retaining open mind.
(10 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Appreciating Free Style Poetry, From The Loose Poet
for EVO e.i.c and his staff
poetic seeds germinate
above the 5 poetical quilts:
mood, imagery, thought
melody, rhythm
regardless of twigs sprouting -
matured poet reaps twists and surprises
immatured one duplicates
poetry is not a sole reflection of man's
damn imagination thru rhyme and metrical phrases
poetry is not a tone of
monotonous lines of ala-classical tounges of greatness
and hackneyed syllables, homonymous end-words
poetry is but a variation of
mute voices from artistic loose mind
puzzling emotions spill out in any wad of papers
in unlyrical odes, or sober sonnets
in rhyme or wild verses
then what makes my poetry
when read
to make my critics weep
they feed to every reader's mind
as they know -
my poetry has magic
most of us keep so well hidden
sometimes narrow
sometimes deep
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mind Is In a Poetic Meter
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
Until it was produce to seduce,
To make aware.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At A Loss For Words
Some time had passed since a verse had come to mind
a mental blockage I have had, nothing seemed to rhyme.
No words of creation the supply had gone
no thoughts, or imagination, nothing, not a one.
The source had stopped for some strange reason,
as though there was a break in the poetry season.
I tried and I tried, but nothing would come together,
not even with a change in the weather.
In the early hours I woke up and had to pick up a pen,
for some strange reason I began writing again.
It is quite odd and I’ll never get to know
why periods of poetry come and go.
But I’m thankful when words and lines come to me
it is as though they are sent telepathically.
It doesn’t matter if the poem is incorrect or good
or if it’s taken as silly, or is misunderstood.
As long as it relays that moment’s thought
an instinctive message that cannot be taught.
To me it doesn’t matter if its only two lines long,
or whether it has many verses, or even sounds wrong.
When thoughts of words or sentences come to mind
I have to write them down no matter the place or time.
If I don’t record the thought on paper right away
they become lost forever in the space of night and day.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Must Rhyme Draw Blank..et Criticism?
It’s sad to see that rhyming‘s thought redundant
by those who’s bark can’t steer poetic star,
who grudge, shout out, doubt scope, spout words abundant,
seek validation they’d from others bar.
‘Free verse’ disperse if this your fancy tickles
to jar the winter of your discontent,
with fallen leaves, sheaves garnered, unhoned sickles,
with [f]lagging letters, jagged sentiment.
Rhyme carries more than meaning: music, timing,
pattern, play, holistic core explore,
link sense to ‘whither’, ‘whence’, nor mummer’s miming,
nor lead tread led astray by crow’s harsh caw.
‘Rich rhyme’ or ‘prose’ debate is academic
when eight in ten can’t read three thousand words,
what counts is sense and sentiments – polemic
remains the province of small minds in herds
where wherewithal is lacking for expression,
where envy, laziness, or both hold sway,
where turn of phrase is tacky, where aggression
replaces g[r]ace to interface p[l]ace play
with music, sounds send pulses through wave spectrum,
or melt souls’ polar icecaps with accord,
twin chords to cords aligned through playful plectrum
with formal training going by the board.
So be it coral strand or fair complexion,
dire prophesy or cornet candyfloss,
womb, doom and gloom, or in-depth introspection,
imagination's never at a loss.
Thus formal sonnet, couplets rhyming gaily,
with sunny disposition to the fore,
should mirror music, method, context daily
evolving outside all one's writ before.
In pictogram or beaded decoration
in Roman font, linguistic interplay
wed words’ harmonic melody’s elation
responds to tune the key no words may weigh.
To underline, the savant English written
retains both [s]cope and [s]pace for verbal tricks,
like Skelton take the Rap, as playful kitten
re[th]ink link frames for Caxton’s twenty-six.
Where feet and metre merry dance may caper
from poets Lake to Blake, have Don[n]e, imPound
who’d underscore square thoughts – recycled paper!
can hack’s slack style replace paced silver sound?
Each line when spun ends up with tails or faces,
where tale replaces touch much of the time,
such is the paradox which interlaces
arguments around repeated rhyme.
When fish flew, forests walked, alliteration
best impressed stressed message – few could read –
mnemonics reinforced the iteration
recalling legend, fairy-tale or creed. remember
Now pigs think they have wings above their station
maintaining rhyme no R[h]APsody retains
while ‘thinaccessible’ becomes negation
to mask task’s challenge failed, spite p[r]ose fee pains.
If attic muse can ante antic up, wise,
prefer cold garret’s ‘ashes and a crust’
rehearse blank verse predictions s[l]ick, applies
remorseless morse to dash dot hoarse course dust.
For formal frameworks offer waft and weft which
the poet threads with frugal concentration –
as filtered light through prism rainbow span stitch
hues limitless whose wavelength condensation
upon cones, rods, retinal flash achieving,
imagination infinite invites,
refines mind’s focus, - hocus-pocus leaving -
versatile, both stimulates excites.
Of course this discourse could continue weaving
until the cows come home from lea poetic,
winged leeway granting Pegasus, conceiving
examples prosy, - rosy or pathetic.
Our arguement is: structure, sense, in motion
may catalyze emotions more than prose,
in multi-mode dimensions, flowing ocean
flexible, reflexible, that grows
crescendo bringing mind and matter’s code a
springboard from which rich images may bloom,
concluding on note elegant a coda
whose aftertaste no waste-land texts assume.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Triptych Stitch Trip II
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
TRIPTYCH STITCH TRIP III
StitcH Heart’S SheatH HaS StretcH
TiC CaughtT ToC, CharT TerrifiC.
I treaT ThaI, InspecT TmumulI IntacT
TsunamI, InstanT Typhoon, I ImparT TempI,
ChanT TheatriC CasT TantriC ComplimenT.
Here’S SketcH. HopeS SearcH H[e]avenS
15 December 2006
robi03_1523_robi03_0000 AQX_MXX
Triptych Stitch Trip III 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 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
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.
II
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
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIII
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Triptych Stitch Trip III
TRIPTYCH STITCH TRIP III
StitcH Heart’S SheatH HaS StretcH
TiC CaughtT ToC, CharT TerrifiC.
I treaT ThaI, InspecT TmumulI IntacT
TsunamI, InstanT Typhoon, I ImparT TempI,
ChanT TheatriC CasT TantriC ComplimenT.
Here’S SketcH. HopeS SearcH H[e]avenS
15 December 2006
robi03_1523_robi03_0000 AQX_MXX
Triptych Stitch Trip III 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 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
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
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Triptych Stitch Trip II poem © Jonathan Robin
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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
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TRYPTI CH
Drip, drip, drip, slip trip
trickle ignores Time’s sickle
drop, drop, dropp crypt..tic
24 October 2006 revised 23 May 2008
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Tryptich poem © Jonathan Robin
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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.
II
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
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poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mist Dismissed
Hope rune reads, deeds renew
true vision reaching through
mist myths, tunes time and place
outside imposed curfew,
restraints which block clear view,
discovers overview,
serenity and space.
Vast vista orange, blue
surpasses déjà vu,
deeds jaded joy erase.
Through intuition's clue
few challenge, none conspue,
line draw, find answers to
empower state of grace.
'Unto oneself stay true! '
flows naturally, on cue,
when 'Brave New World' we face.
Temptations one must rue,
defy, deny, subdue,
prepare just rendezvous
from Kent to Katmandu,
tomorrow's freedoms trace.
To fill hole darkness drew,
advance, direction new
seeds need to tap fresh base,
set doubts behind, review
trust in insight's flight. Who
would counter fate should do
what's needed to replace
uncertainties askew
crass ignorance which grew
through hesitance, disgrace.
Bid bluff, defeat, adieu
let principles, virtue,
encourage fresh debuts
eschewing actions base.
Dark phase ends, one, free, starts, hope turns to find
spark gaze sends sun, heart charts scope, learns true mind
© Jonathan Robin 2 August 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Journey Of A Poet
A journey begins with
A thought in our mind
Words are chosen and formed.
Lines of poem
Well Written with meanings
With words of emotions and expressions
A poet starts with
An inspiration of mind,
An aspiration in soul mind
With reflection
On our life experience
We start to
Compose some
Wonderful poetry
Expressing our innermost thoughts
With deep contemplation
To put them in poetry words
A journey begins when
A poet takes his imagination
To a place where
No one ever dream or imagine before.
A poet's journey ends by
Writing another lovely poem
And deep reflection
A poet remains
As a poet
When he or she
Continue to
Write and Share
lovely poems with the world.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Circumnavigation
If atoms spin round aeons' afterglow
pass preview, present, future, recombined,
to causal layers add effective flow
cue tune to harmonies, runes realigned,
then what spells last beyond an augenblick
beyond beyond yet stay within within,
to spell out waft/weave linking thin and thick
as means to ends, through which ends' means begin.
What shadow seems, what light beam seams unzip,
is figment of imagination or
insight into eve's apple's core, skin, pip
to link past futures, those still still before
the universal orbit spun vibration
prepares for former circumnavigation...
augenblick - German blink
eve... both Eve and eve
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 5 May 2008
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.
© Jonathan Robin – Acrostic Sonnet written 16 September 2001 revised 7 August 2007
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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...
© Jonathan Robin – Acrostic Sonnet written 16 April 2005 as a variation of As Time Slips By – see above
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Mission Now?
What mission may the poet still retain
Here in this day and age, which sees the world
As lost as ever, while mankind is whirled
Too fast, and at a pace few can sustain.
Most mask their feelings, shield themselves from pain,
In hope that though no psalms are skywards skirled
Some light can filter through cocoons which, curled,
Shut out most aspirations, which remain
Ideals Man thinks he ought to seek. In vain
Or so it seems, the flag of hope unfurled
Now braves the insults philistine which, hurled,
Nor spare nor temper the poetic vein.
One voice, when clear, will break the glass of Time,
What matter if in free-verse or in rhyme?
Whenever rhyme is crafted on ideas
Heart tunes to rhythm, can effect enhance
Allowing invitation to a dance
That adds dimensions in way that clears
Muddy waters - often verse appears
In ways which heighten, lighten, help advance
Subtle emphasis where words through Chance
Seem to stream together. Inner ears
Intuitive may key to song that steers
Over prose bound limits, elegance
Neat meanings adding through rhyme's happenstance
No forms need hamper thought where heart heart cheers.
Open mind behind the [t]racing pen
Will channel words creating worlds again...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Pen Gone Dry
Barren fields…empty places
Mind devoid of idea and rhyme
Sterile imagination…featureless faces
Webs in memories, frozen in time
Fingers flaccid, mind unwilling
Heavy lies this heart of mine
Creative forces not fulfilling
Empty flask of poetic wine
Dried up source of poetic spring
Used up store of poetic phrases
Emptied purse with untied string
Like worn out shoes and old frayed laces
Time away… might grow the field
Time away… might fill the empty places
Perhaps time will let the emptiness yield
To imagination…and full featured faces
Now...inkwell empty
Tear in eye
Pristine paper
Pen... gone dry...
poem by David Whalen
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After the Sonnet Ends
After the sonnet ends it begins.
The final word glistens suspended on a string
like an industrious spider on strands slender as pins,
like a trapeze artist’s precarious swing.
The minstral invites you to take the gift
of vases of words and decanters of wit
and parse them in your mind and shift
the meanings and the mores to fit
the memories of music and rhyme
in the repository of your mind
and perhaps to recall some other time,
and in the recollection find
another starting point where the thought ends,
still another meaning where the line bends.
poem by Sonny Rainshine
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