Polyacrostic - A Final Act I Play... and Yet
A FINAL ACT I PLAY... AND YET
ALL FADES INTO NOTHINGNESS AT LAST,
FADES fast, flame flame attracts, itself devours.
INTO Time’s vacuum hours suction hour –
NOTHINGNESS: the frame for fame when Past
AT journey’s end the Future meets to cast
LAST dies with Fate – which late or early sours.
ASHES CHILLING TIME’S IMMORTAL POWERS:
CHILLING bigot, priest, iconoclast.
TIME’S melting pot’s a plumbless well, repast
IMMORTAL, tasteless still, which overpowers
POWERS of perception, leaves life’s flowers
LOST and blighted ‘neath the blast, soon passed.
AND yet Youth’s fountain springs, denies ‘too late’.
YET Hope fears’ dupes would prove, Love knows no date!
polyacrostic sonnet 21 November 1991
robi03_0486_robi03_0000 BSX_DKZ
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Trauma Of Time
Time Fades The Smile, Not The Pain.
Time Drains The Water Not The Damage From The Rain.
Time Fades The Tomorrow Not The Yesterday.
Time Fades The Cuts But The Scars Never Go Away.
Time Fades The Sweetness Not All The Things Sour.
Time Fades Those Few Precious Moments But Not The Crippling Hour.
Time Fades The Sun, Not It’s Brutal Remains.
Time Fades The Photographs Not There Stains.
Time Fades The Lessons Not All The Things That I’ve Learned.
Time Puts Out The Fire But Not The Days I Burned.
Time Fades The Colors Not The Glaring White.
Time Fades The Bruises Not The Darkness In The Night.
Time Fades The Happiness Not The Tears.
Time Fades The Triumphs Not The Fears.
Time Fades The Storm Not The Ocean.
Time Fades The Memories Not The Emotion.
Time Fades The Dreams Not The Nightmare.
Time Fades The Hand Not The Times You Weren’t There.
Time Fades The Beauty Not The Gloom.
Time Fades The Doors And Windows Not The Empty Room.
Time Fades The Love Not The Empty Lie.
Time Fades The Hello But Never The Goodbye.
poem by Bridgid Patrick
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A Tease Ate At Ease
Forty-five fragile film frames flickered fast,
Offered fragile existential fantasy.
Rehearsal? repetition? f[o]ray fancy-free?
Timed role’s played only once before cold blast.
Youth spins loaded dice, Styx stones cast, fall forecast,
Fickle fate finesses foresight finicky.
Iconoclastic? idyllic? lottery
Voids mortal cyphers’ sore core scores. Vacuum vast.
Emphemeral existence fades fast. Past
Youth clings, sings, rings prime passed preparing Lethe -
Exit pursued by bare Life’s absurdity.
A tease ate at ease? Flea’s frieze freeze, picked, nicked, repast.
Rose scent sent doom dissolves all errors paid,
Stage gauged age paging, gloom’s page terror greyed.
Forty-five frames flicker fast,
Opt out of final fantasy.
Rehearsal over, piper’s fee
Toxic toxin tolled. Cold blast.
Yearned remission ends, soon past.
Fate finesses finicky
Ideals as lethal lottery
Vacuums mortal coil at last.
Expunges wishful-thinking fast
Deadlines loom, dread signs tomb see
Aware of hope’s absurdity.
Yet fear flees further fears die cast.
Self-indulgence pointless proves.
A tease? at ease? last ga[s]p removes.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Parts Rejoin the Whole
Gardens grow through glowing summer days,
Exhuberantly flaunt their fairest flowers,
Refusing to accept Time’s t[r]apped the hours
And crosses out who welcome overstay.
Roots wither, seer, sap fails, life’s passing ph[r]ase
Dares test eternity before it sours,
Defies tomorrow before which it cowers
As cycles spin and Man Time’s piper pays.
Hope flourished for a while, then final blaze
Affords example of our finite powers.
Numb memory stumbles over tumbled towers -
Departing spirit’s half-life fast decays.
Ends are tied as ties are left behind,
PARTS rejoin the [w]hole, all senses blind.
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0815_robi3_0000 ASX_DJN 12 June 1996 G.D. In Memoriam
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
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Its Not Too Late
(david jones)
Immortal music (bmi)
Lead vocal: davy jones
If I had a penny for every time I thought about you
I would be a millionaire
I would send you flowers each day
And I would show you in every way
Just how much I really care
The summer sun and the winter snow,
The autumn leaves let the spring rains know
Just how much I need your love
And if I knew that my time was near,
And you were there,
I would have no fear
Your name would be my dying prayer
Its not too late
To turn this ship around
To sail into the wind my love
Before we run aground
Its not too late
To say that I love you
And its not too late for you, my love
To say you love me too
(its not too late)
If I was a rich mans son
I would work till the day was done
Just to prove my love was true
I would take you for my wife
And I would love you all my life
And I would never leave or be untrue
Its not too late
To turn this ship around
To sail into the wind my love
Before we run aground
Its not too late
To say that I love you
And its not too late for you, my love
To say you love me too
(its not too late)
You know our future and your feelings
And the love that I have for you
Theyre always in my heart and on my mind
A never ending love affair
Well go together everywhere
Our love will last till the end of time
You know our future and your feelings
And the love that I have for you
Theyre always in my heart, theyre on my mind
A never ending love affair
Well go together everywhere
Our love will last till the end of time
Its not too late
To turn this ship around
To sail into the wind my love
Before we run aground
Its not too late
To say that I love you
And its not too late for you, my love
To say you love me too
(its not too late)
Its not too late
To turn this ship around
To sail into the wind my love
Before we run aground
Its not too late
To say that I love you
And its not too late for you, my love
To say you love me too
(its not too late)
Its not too late (its not too late)
Its not too late (its not too late)
Its not too late to turn this ship around
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Time Fades Away
Fourteen junkies too weak to work
One sells diamonds for what theyre worth
Down on pain street, disappointment lurks
Son, dont be home too late.
Try to get back by eight
Son, dont wait till the break of day
cause you know how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away.
All day presidents look out windows
All night sentries watch the moonglow
All are waiting till the time is right
Son, dont be home too late
Try to get back by eight
Son, dont wait till the break of day
cause you know how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away.
Back in canada I spent my days
Riding subways through a haze
I was handcuffed, I was born & raised
Son, dont be home too late
Try to get back by eight
Son, dont wait till the break of day
cause you know how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away.
Thirteen junkies too weak to work
One sells diamonds for what theyre worth
Down on pain street disappointment lurks.
Son, dont be home too late
Try to get back by eight, eight
Son, dont wait till the break of day
cause you know how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away.
Time fades away
You know how time fades away
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Overwhelming Needs 0977
I share an overwhelming need to give and to receive,
Hold feelings words fail to express, if uttered few'd believe
As message follows message, as flood gates fall at last,
Voice echoes hope's choice, knows flow sows, advancing very fast.
Electric thrill, heat, chill, here fills both body, soul, to weave
A waterfall whose rainbow shawl fulfills, must not deceive,
Now safety-net's forgotten, fears fade as fades the past
Once threatening to bird who'd wing through shadows overcast.
Vain fears are shown, tears overblown, as two twinned hearts conceive
Excitement new which through and through can run, yet never grieve.
Raw, uncooked feelings flow, both know, prepare for shared repast.
With freedom found, with chains unbound, perceive horizons vast.
Here we're as one, and have begun to interact, naive,
Enchanted too, as two discover much we may achieve.
Life's aim: love's flame, no need for fame which fades like winter leave,
My melody, true harmony, from one love's drawn, outcast
It would soon wilt, let nothing filter through, each word miscast:
No coloured dot forget-me-not would greyness dull relieve,
Grant ease of heart if two apart were torn beyond reprieve.
New worlds await where anger, hate, unknown are, we'll outlast
Ends and beginnings as Life sings, can never be downcast.
Each has an overwhelming need to give and to receive,
Decide with me, soon we shall see soul, spirit, interweave.
(8 November 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Life Fades Away
Written by orbison/danzig
My time has come the clouds are calling.
December wind has came my way.
And now I feel the world falling.
All at once, its too late.
Life fades away.
The night is my day.
All thoughts slip away
And even though, I must leave you.
Remember I love you.
Ill always be in your memories.
I will always be with you when Im gone.
Hey, life fades away.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,yeah.
Life fades away.
Im tired on tomorrow.lost for today.
I long to be at peace forever.
My dull peace
And even though, I will miss you.
I must leave you.
Hey, life fades away.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,yeah, yeah.
Life fades away.
So please forgive me.and try not to cry.
I long to be at peace forever more.
Forever more.
Oh yeah, yeah , yeah ,yeah ,yeah.
Oh yeah, yeah ,yeah , yeah, yeah.
Life fades away.
Life fades away.
Life fades away.away.
One last thing to say
Life fades away.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tracks We Leave Behind
In a hundred years from now
when we are not around,
I wonder if we’ll be remembered
for the tracks we leave behind,
our legacy for our short time here.
Will our meagre efforts
be rewarded with immortal fame
or will they be extinguished
like the candles flame?
We can only live in hope.
One day in the distant future
will a student over our work ponder
of how our life was reflected
in the tracks we leave behind
and the confusion we sometimes feel.
Let’s hope that future student
sees all our love within
the words we carefully chose
to represent our life
in the tracks we leave behind.
10 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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I believe in an immortal soul. Science has proved that nothing disintegrates into nothingness. Life and soul, therefore, cannot disintegrate into nothingness, and so are immortal.
quote by Wernher Magnus Maximilian von Braun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between the Times
Braggart on Time's edge razor thin
Evolving frame by anxious frame,
Tired Man spiders fate or fame,
Weaves threads soon dewless dust - none win.
Each, casting dice - who's spun, who's spin? -
Expectant, losses would reclaim.
Now's leaves fall swift to Styx domain.
Telomeres shorten, cease to twin,
Hold all in hostage to chagrin.
Each page youth inks, seeks wings, pride flame,
Till age sooth sinks, weak wrings, ride lame, -
Insects' ambered Time-trap gin.
Maybe technology shall speed up change,
Extend short sojourn, mankind's range so strange.
6 May 2001 revised 4 May 2008
robi03_0934_robi03_0000 ASX_DJZ
for previous version see below
Between the Times
Balanced upon Time's razor thin
Edge, advancing frame by frame,
Tired Man spiders fate or fame,
Weaves threads soon dewless dust - none win.
Each throws the dice - who's spun, who's spin?
Each lost winnings would reclaim -
None independence dare proclaim.
Telomeres shorten, cease to twin,
Hold all in hostage to chagrin.
Each page youth inks, seeks wings, pride flame,
Till age sooth sinks, weak wrings, ride lame, -
Insects caught within Time's gin?
Maybe the Net shall speed up change,
Extend Man's sojourn range so strange.
6 May 2001
Between the Times poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Friend Fiend Ship
FRIEND FIEND SHIP
Far past, false future, seem the same
Representing in life's game
Indifference, too hard to tame,
External trappings frame by frame
Now here, now there. Prepare, fair dame,
Death which life swallows, trace of name
Sudden fades. Life's rush-hour train
Heeds none, - pain, fun, - nor sin, nor blame,
Ideals of virtue went and came.
Plastic mirage few retain:
For some short space we stake our claim
In search for perch - yet joy and bane
Exist outside man's plans too lame,
Nor can they last. Life's candle flame?
Dream guttered soon for John and Jane.
Acrostic Friendship Fiend written 28 February 2009
robi03_1863_robi03_0000 AXX_DEZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Too Late
Soon its never more
When youve got to pay for
Promises - made in the night
Call the magic one
And with the magic comes
Forever chained to the flame
Chorus:
Its too late
Too late for tears
Too late
And no one hears you
Do you feel a touch of evil
(then) its too late
To wish and make it so
To feel the power growing
Stronger - blessed by the dark
And when the candle fades
You can say it was a
Joke you played
So you must let me go - no
Chorus:
Its too late
Youve said the word
Too late
Something heard you
Too late - now the race is on
And youre run out of road
Too late
For tears
Too late
And no one hears you
Can you feel the touch of evil
Its too late
Oh oh oh save me
I believe in your name
Oh oh Ive fallen down
But now Ive found
Nobody to take the blame
Misery
Its come to drag me away
And when the hunter cries
No alibis
Get ready for judgement day
As the candle fades
You can say it was a game you made
So you must let me go, let me go
Its too late - youve said the word
Too late - something heard you
Too late - the spell is gone
And this time youre the fool
Its too late for tears
Too late
And no one hears you
Welcome to forever
Welcome its too late
Too late
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Late
Too late the prize is drawn, the goal attained.
Too late, too late, our heart's desire is gained.
Wealth's use is past; Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached — the end of toil and strife —
The end of life.
Love flowers and fades like grass, and flowers again,
And strong young hearts spend all their strength in vain.
The fiery passions burn out, one by one,
And then, too late, when our best days are done,
Spirit and body find their perfect mate —
Too late, too late!
Long sought, long seeking, through the lonely years,
We meet at last to weep our useless tears
For time and chance irrevocably flown,
For dreams outlived and fervent hopes outgrown,
For babes unborn, for myriad joys unseen,
That might have been.
Too late, too late! And yet the priceless boon
Might ne'er have come to bless us, late or soon;
And only comes, like Holy Grail, to those
Made wise and pure by bitter needs and woes.
We learn the worth of life when life is o'er,
And not before.
Not for the spring and morning time of youth
The perfect flower of slow- unfolding truth —
The perfect love, deep, passionate, and strong,
That comes of wanting much and waiting long.
This glorious fire is of the setting sun
When day is done.
This harvest wealth, this crowning gift of fate,
This fruit of suffering years, must aye come late;
And only seeking spirit and ripe mind —
Only a few — the matchless treasure find,
And find, despite all time and chances lost,
'Twas worth the cost.
Ah me! To stand upon this height at last,
Ere eyes are dim or daylight overpast;
To see one aim achieved, one dream fulfilled,
Ere striving brain and hoping heart are stilled;
To know that we have borne a lifelong pain
Not all in vain!
O, not too late, if once we reach the goal —
If once we satisfy this hungry soul —
If only for a year, a day, an hour,
We drink our fill of life's true bliss and power.
If we but touch that point, we conquer fate
Not quite too late!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - What Will Follow?
Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests
Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition;
Acrostics to be found below:
What will follow - external
Name an Acrostic - vertical from middle
Robin Jonathan - double diagonal from middle
Palimpsest: A manuscript on which more than one text is written
with earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.
Enjoy!
3 versions below:
4 March 2009
6 January 2007
2 January 1992 [Jonathan Wrobel]
What Will Follow?
Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story. Living dead,
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys gainsaid:
Fond intention ropes soon ties instead
Of painting scroll whose links naught need conceal.
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to trial met book open, read,
Or is all error, nightmares' terrors where
We puppets find chance rules us? Judgements spare!
© Jonathan Robin polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet written 2 January 1992 revised 4 March 2009
What Will Follow?
Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story. Living dead,
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys gainsaid
Fate, in waiting, rarely runs, - instead
Our sins turns to our loss without appeal.
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to the future, - grow, love, wed -
Or all’s terror, nightmare error where
We soon will see climactic climes none spare…
© Jonathan Robin polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet written 2 January 1992 revised 6 January 2007
What will Follow?
Who knows what in our future lies ahead,
How will man's banana skin unpeel,
And thus show him what follows on, reveal
Tomorrow's stated story, live or dead.
We wait and ask vain sages why we're led
In ignorance to never-never's wheel.
Life is lost as man sets out, why steal
Little joys in scheming, joys when fed
Fulfill our hearts which lay too long abed.
Our selves we should revive, all sloth repeal,
Let be all fears, shine out as beacon real.
Look forward to the future, - grow, love, wed!
Or all is error, 'tis but nightmare where
We soon will see chance rules us without heir!
Jonathan Wrobel polyacrostic palimpsest sonnet © Jonathan Robin written 2 January 1992
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ride The Lightining
Guilty as charged
But damn it, it ain't right
There's someone else controlling me
Death in the air
Strapped in the electric chair
This can't be happening to me
Who made you god to say
"I'll take your life from you!!"
Flash before my eyes
Now it's time to die
Burning in my brain
I can feel the flame
Wait for the sign
To flick the switch of death
It's the beginning of the end
Sweat chilling cold
As I watch death unfold
Consiousness is my only friend
My fingers grip with fear
What am I doing here?
Flash before my eyes
Now it's time to die
Burning in my brain
I can feel the flame
Someone help me
Oh please God help me
They are trying to take it all away
I don't want to die
Time moving slow
The minutes seem like hours
The final curtain all I see
How true is this?
Just get it over with
If this is true, just let it be
Wakened by horrid scream
Freed from this frightening dream
Flash before my eyes
Now it's time to die
Burning in my brain
I can feel the flame
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Long Last
Late, late the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
Wealth's use is past, Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward-drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached - the end of toil and strife -
The end of life.
Love flowers and fades like grass, and flowers again;
The spendthrift lovers waste themselves in vain;
Their fiery passions burn out one by one,
And then, alas! when their best days are done,
Spirit and body find their perfect mate -
So late! So late!
Long-sought, long seeking, through the lonely years,
The wanderers meet to weep their useless tears
For time and chance irrevocably flown,
Dear hopes outlived and happy faiths outgrown,
Children unborn, the myriad joys unseen
That might have been.
Not for the spring and morning-time of youth
The perfect flower of slow-unfolding truth,
The perfect love, that dreams of youth foretell,
But youth knows not and youth could never tell;
That light celestial, as of sunset fires
When day expires.
Late comes the gift that crowns the hungry quest,
Like ripe wheat-harvest in a land at rest,
And comes alone, a consecrated cup,
To those proved worthy to sit down and sup.
To them - aye, aye, despite their treasure lost,
'T'is worth the cost.
'T'is worth the cost to reach the heights at last,
Ere eyes are dim and daylight overpast.
To see one aim achieved, one dream fulfilled,
Ere striving brain and trusting heart are stilled.
To live one glorious hour - its price of pain
Is never paid in vain.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Symphony
Wonder in happy eyes
Fades, fades away:
And the angel-coloured skies
Whisper farewell.
Loveliness over the strings of the heart may stray
In fugitive melodies;
But Oh, the hand of the Master must not stay,
Even for a breath;
For to prolong one joy, or even to dwell
On one rich chord of pain,
Beyond the pulse of the song, would untune heaven
And drown the stars in death.
So youth with its love-note dies;
And beauty fades in the air,
To make the master-symphony immortal,
And find new life and deeper wonder there.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Of English Verse
Poets may boast, as safely vain,
Their works shall with the world remain;
Both, bound together, live or die,
The verses and the prophecy.
But who can hope his lines should long
Last in a daily changing tongue?
While they are new, envy prevails;
And as that dies, our language fails.
When architects have done their part,
The matter may betray their art;
Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,
Soon brings a well-built palace down.
Poets that lasting marble seek
Must carve in Latin or in Greek;
We write in sand, our language grows,
And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.
Chaucer his sense can only boast,
The glory of his numbers lost!
Years have defaced his matchless strain,
And yet he did not sing in vain.
The beauties which adorned that age,
The shining subjects of his rage,
Hoping they should immortal prove,
Rewarded with success his love.
This was the generous poet's scope,
And all an English pen can hope,
To make the fair approve his flame,
That can so far extend their fame.
Verse, thus designed, has no ill fate
If it arrive but at the date
Of fading beauty; if it prove
But as long-lived as present love.
poem by Edmund Waller
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