Pretentiousness
He stands as high in his own estimate
as Everest, yet never rests to show
he represents quintessence crowned by Fate,
the paragon of generations' flow,
sure soars, both source and force, all incarnate.
'I am' self-evidence appears, it seems,
with Time and Space combined, to demonstrate
perfection corresponding to all dreams
personnified. Such plateaux elevate
none without reason above lacklustre crowd.
Vice scorns torn virtue, self-perpetuate.
Ahead where most, more modest, bray less loud.
Nor could he cease to brag until his breath
apoplectic opens door to Death.
4 May 1998 revised 5 December 2008
robi03_0879_robi03_0000 SXX_JXX
for previous version see below
Pretentiousness
He stands so high in his own estimate
as Everest, and never rests to show
he Man's quintessence represents by Fate
triumphant crowned, - of generations' flow
he soars both source and force, all incarnate.
'I am' self-evidence appears, it seems,
with Time and Space combined, to demonstrate
perfection corresponding to all dreams
personnified. Such plateaux elevate
none without reason high above the crowd....
Vice turn to virtue? Youth perpetuate?
Ahead where most, more modest, bray less loud?
Nor shall he cease to brag until his breath
apoplectic opens door to Death.
4 May 1998
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Time's Tide
Those cause/effect relations seek to investigate
ask why life’s lamentations can’t flow past pearly gate,
why can’t hope’s expectations some sects anticipate
show we’re wheeled incarnations, frustrations, fears, negate
Why worry what tomorrow may offer if at all,
share laughter, spurning sorrow, ignoring wailing wall,
each wakes one day, hopes hollow, must piper pay as shawl
in winding sheet few follow, no trumps for final call.
Time's tide has been extended beyond the sands of hope,
free ride from heyday ended, frayed tether, broken rope,
recount lost time expended, events' ghost mirage grope,
as most proud man intended black hole's Time's telescope.
Bright spark - life's candle gutters - so swiftly movements cease,
one cry before heart flutters, before 'Here rests in peace! '
one sigh then parting’s shutters are drawn with no surcease,
one dies while crowd bread butters inheritance apiece.
In youth great expectations mask ignorance - a vice -
few meet anticipations, most, sour, scower at Fate’s dice.
life’s joke is on Creation’s head, ne’er repeated twice,
one innings: vindications leave after-thoughts to lice.
Behind lie verses threaded, skeins sense retains in vain,
life's loves too soon are bedded by Fate immune to pain.
life’s gloves too soon are shredded by thorny greed for gain,
‘Above’ is concept wedded to fear, none bat again.
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0922_robi3_0000 XXX_CDZ 2 January 2001 revised 22 December 2008 for previous version see below
Time's Tide
Some cause/effect relations
would understand and splice -
what wall of lamentations
may give a game played twice?
Why care Creation's date to play -
the aeons ebb and flow, -
Man wakes one day with price to pay,
and nowhere left to go.
Time's tide has been extended
beyond the sands of hope,
the time for games has ended,
what trumps remain, what scope?
In youth great expectations
masked ignorance - a vice -
of how anticipations
can sour at throw of dice.
A spark, - life's candle gutters -
so swiftly mouvements cease.
One cry before heart flutters,
before 'Here rests in peace! '
Luck's tithe has been expended,
no slack remains, the rope
draws tight 'spite rules once bended
to ease life's line, to cope.
And like these verses threaded
in skein sense would retain,
Life's loves too soon are bedded
by Fate immune to pain.
2 January 2001
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Want It Loud
Tonight - is a show
And I gotta be there
Banging my head to a metal attack
We got nothing to fear
Dancing and screaming begging our heroes for more
Burning the streets cause we gotta be first thru the door
We want it loud
Theres no other reason we came for
We want it loud
The louder the better we need more
They keep us locked, locked in
For hours and hours we wait in line
You get pushed to the limit
We cant even breath no more
Like a volcano were boiling and ready to blow
Fight all the way got to see this damn rock and roll show
We want it loud
Theres no other reason we came for
We want it loud
The louder the better we need more
We want it loud - we want it loud - we want it loud
Yeah, its gotta be loud
Yeah - we want it loud
Theres no other reason we came for
We want it loud
The louder the better we need more
We want it loud
Theres no other reason we came for
We want it loud
The louder the better we need more
We want it loud - we want it loud - we want it loud
We want it loud - we want it loud - we want it loud
Yeah, its gotta be loud
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keyless
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
efforts are hamstrung, - phantom puppet show
reflects our vain illusions’ ebb and flow.
Effects’ and causes’ ripple interplay
scoffs at control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose patterns none may know.
Why seek for key? Self-righteous afterglow
can’t channel flow to stem the current grey?
Chance - Time’s harmony – Man won’t obey,
cares not a tinker’s curse for those who bow
would string, - self validating vertigo
soon bursts to leave brief, troubled, bubble bray
deflated, echo muted, song unheard.
Who’ll witness stand that strings were ever stirred?
19 September 2005 revised 30 October 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sheshonk He's Shrunk
How are the mighty fallen! King of kings
around whose word world spun, just dust remains
confined near Nile which ignorantly brings
feast or famine as high fate ordains.
He lies forgotten, for what poet sings
his praise to raise most memorable strains.
Faded now are former hieroglyphs,
he and all generations since despair,
life like lost lemmings heading o'er fate's cliffs,
lose base pace space race trace face fair - unfair
seems life's strife dreams which nano seconds blaze,
then lost in haze lies memory of our day.
(14 February 2010 revised 4 February 2012)
For previous version see below and also link to wiki
How are the mighty fallen! King of kings
around whose word world spun in dust remains
confined near Nile which ignorantly brings
feast or famine as high fate ordains,
lies now forgotten, for what poet sings
his praise to raise most memorable strains.
Faded now are former hieroglyphs,
he and all generations since despair,
life like lost lemmings heading o'er fate's cliffs,
lose base pace space race trace face fair - unfair
seems life's strife dreams which for few seconds blaze,
then lost in haze lies memory of our days.
robi03_1962_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sapphire Stars
SAPPHIRE STARS
Sapphire stars inset on cream surround,
Unique is image nightly sent to splice
Sundered souls, excitement adding, spice,
As dreams rewrite reality joy crowned.
Night hangs its sleepless head as silent sound
Near, far, unites, spheres’ song [st]rings. Time must dice,
Ensnared, against itself, as virtue vice
Successfully defeats. Fantastic found,
Unscathed by envy, jealousy wraith bound,
Sensations soothing left to their device
Attenuate all cares, share, melting ice,
Neither challenge hope, nor need give ground.
Nature ne’er strays, stays true to way within
Empty each phrase, praise other maids would win.
23 October 1992 revised 17 January 2009
robi03_0614_robi03_0000 ASX_LXX
for previous version see below
Sapphire Stars
Sapphire stars set in a sunny sea,
Unique are those soft eyes each night I see,
Since they alone two sundered halves can splice,
And dreams bring to reality, add spice
Ne'er known before, and help the heart soar free.
Night hangs its sleepless head, all cedes to thee
Enraptured, Time against itself does dice
Successfully, and virtue over vice
Unadulterated victory
Soon wins, and Nature owns thy primacy.
All worship at your throne, from men to mice,
None fail to hail thy worth, - none else suffice.
Natural nobility is thine,
Empty is praise apart from all that's thine
23 October 1992
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Little Girls
Although of native maids the cream,
We're brought up on the English scheme -
The best of all
For great and small
Who modesty adore.
For English girls are good as gold,
Extremely modest (so we're told),
Demurely coy - divinely cold -
And we are that - and more.
To please papa, who argues thus -
All girls should mould themselves on us,
Because we are,
By furlongs far,
The best of all the bunch;
We show ourselves to loud applause
From ten to four without a pause -
Which is an awkward time because
It cuts into our lunch.
Oh, maids of high and low degree,
Whose social code is rather free,
Please look at us and you will see
What good young ladies ought to be!
And as we stand, like clockwork toys,
A lecturer papa employs
To puff and praise
Our modest ways
And guileless character -
Our well-known blush - our downcast eyes -
Our famous look of mild surprise
(Which competition still defies) -
Our celebrated "Sir!!!"
Then all the crowd take down our looks
In pocket memorandum books.
To diagnose,
Our modest pose
The kodaks do their best:
If evidence you would possess
Of what is maiden bashfulness,
You only need a button press -
And WE do all the rest.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To E-
Let Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twined;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims
To love, than rank with vice combined.
And though unequal is thy fate,
Since title deck’d my higher birth!
Yet envy not this gaudy state;
Thine is the pride of modest worth.
Our souls at least congenial meet,
Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;
Our intercourse is not less sweet,
Since worth of rank supplies the place.
poem by Byron (1802)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stitches in Time
STITCHES IN TIME
Some skins shed, stray, when Fortune spins flawed dice,
One moment white they pray, the next play black,
May here run hot, cold there, protect p[l]ayback
Expected to reward their wayward vice.
They one day feel real cause for ‘yea’ concise,
Heart lost then costs may chart, ‘nay’ reason, - lack
Intrinsic worth, commitment, cards they stack,
Now twinge, now cringe, unmanned in land of mice.
Grows [s]he who glows true faith, to Paradise
IS constant, caring, bearings keeps on track,
ROws through Fate’s flows, knows never cul-de-sac,
Tries, wise, to seed, weeds out, flouts bad advice?
Temptations easy lead to queasy ride,
ENduring strength most fickle fools deride.
20 July 2000 last line revised 11 December 2008
robi03_0911_robi03_0000 ASX_EJX
Previous title Something is Rotten
Stitches in Time poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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sentences V
- from a sick soul, a sick body
- where virtute appears, vice watches also
- a stupid man always think to be clever
- suffering strengthens character and virtue
- wisdom raise souls, guile descend them
- each fox has its loop
- twit, but don't convict
- value can make money, but money can't bring value
- if the birth is a chance, death is a debt
- eternity is not subject to human laws
- freedom badly used, turn against us
- the power against the truth is rather an evidence of weakness
- when a child asked me why rivers flow, I didn't know what to answer
- some people live to build, others to break
- man can't do bad things and to have part of the good ones
(translated from romanian)
poem by Ion Untaru
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butterfly Darque
Butterfly Darque
==============
Wing And A Prayer,
Two To Soar,
High Above,
Or Way Spirit Down,
Darkest Wing,
A Prayer There Be,
A Solitary Standout,
From The Crowd,
Of Maddening Groupies,
Domination Monarch,
Blackest Wing,
Of Night There Be,
Look-a-like Moth,
Butterfly Wings,
Wonder In Genus...
Soars Like Butterfly!
There Can Be,
A Man You Seek,
Single In Soul,
High Alone,
Low In Spirits,
Flies Up High,
Appears Down Low,
Day Bound Glow,
When As Darque,
Wing To Shed,
Of The Night,
Bound Morose,
Fly Below,
Appear Above,
A Wing And A Prayer...
Soars Like Butterfly!
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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To E
Let Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twined;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims
To love, than rank with vice combined.
And though unequal is thy fate,
Since title deck'd my higher claims
Yet envy not this gaudy state;
Thine is the pride of modest worth.
Our souls at least congenial meet,
Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;
Our intercourse is not less sweet,
Since worth of rank supplies the place.
November 1802
Prologue To Mallet's Mustapha
Since Athens first began to draw mankind,
To picture life, and show the impassion'd mind;
The truly wise have ever deem'd the stage
The moral school of each enlighten'd age.
There, in full pomp, the tragic Muse appears,
Queen of soft sorrows, and of useful fears.
Faint is the lesson reason's rules impart:
She pours it strong, and instant through the heart.
If virtue is her theme, we sudden glow
With generous flame; and what we feel, we grow.
If vice she paints, indignant passions rise;
The villain sees himself with loathing eyes.
His soul starts, conscious, at another's groan,
And the pale tyrant trembles on his throne.
To-night, our meaning scene attempts to show
What fell events from dark suspicion flow;
Chief when it taints a lawless monarch's mind,
To the false herd of flattering slaves confined.
The soul sinks gradual to so dire a state;
E'en excellence but serves to feed its hate:
To hate remorseless cruelty succeeds,
And every worth, and every virtue bleeds.
Behold, our author at your bar appears,
His modest hopes depress'd by conscious fears.
Faults he has many—but to balance those,
His verse with heart-felt love of virtue glows:
All slighter errors let indulgence spare,
And be his equal trial full and fair.
For this best British privilege we call,
Then—as he merits, let him stand or fall.
poem by James Thomson
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They Time Together - 0209 - 1991 Version
Life's tidal streams so quickly flow
that few can fairly contemplate
the currents which combine to throw
Time's hands towards their destined Fate.
Few feel for Truth or care to know
what dreams may teem past Peter's gate,
Death's sting nothing averts. Although
the 'moving finger's' never late,
most try to thwart the sword of fate,
hesitate, hot, cold, oft blow,
too often kill what they create,
as, blind eye turned, they backwards g[r]o[w].
Lost, alone, in lovelorn limbo,
most time together, separate,
the lies they live on earth below
their progeny perpetuate.
Cocooned from change, most answer 'no! '
when new horizons captivate,
their god remains the status quo
whenever storm-clouds congregate.
‘Reflection' seems to blind echo
confined where men encapsulate
their hopes and fears within, where no
enlightenment can penetrate.
Thick skins which feelings seldom show,
minds which will not negociate
new challenges in embryo,
are doomed, in their own muck stagnate.
Ignore therefore the vertigo
of careless crowds and concentrate
upon strong inner dynamo
to harness energies innate.
Let Reason join with Love's soft glow,
anxieties emancipate;
at last Man will his state outgrow,
fulfilled, from false fears liberate.
(20 June 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Slot Me Not to Peg In Fields
Slot me not,
To peg in fields...
Appeasing to your comfort,
With a zest to raise your zeal
Not me.
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
I live not to be so addressed.
Within your limits.
To bring a sweetened peace to your nest.
Not me.
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
Living with a meaning,
To have others pleased,
Makes that for me a nightmare...
Screamed out from my dreams.
Not me.
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
You may wish,
To high profile.
Quick to grin...
Or give wide smiles.
But I...
Am not one to do charades.
Or sit pretending,
I'm living to be Grade A.
Not me.
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
Slot me not,
To peg in fields...
Appeasing to your comfort,
With a zest to raise your zeal.
No not me.
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
I've earned to do what I please.
And...
If I want to sneeze out loud!
I'll do it,
When that happens...
In a crowd.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lifelong Learning 1649
No duck[l]ing responsibilities.
Free flight.
First impressions underwrite transformation.
Nestling's metamorphosis into personnified 'urge to learn' eggs on future generations.
(13 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Some Find - 0846 - Initial Version
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
Efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Life is an incessant ebb and flow.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
None can control, - coincidence at play
Enacts a dance whose patterns few do know.
Some find a key, avoiding stop and go,
Channel energy to colour grey.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
Music invent, according string and bow,
Instinctively enjoy a vertigo
That is unknown by most, whose bubble bray
Turns to empty echo, sinks unheard.
Has she a heart whose strings can still be stirred?
(28 June 1997)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bald Eagle
Over the river and soaring high,
Wings spread wide, with confidence assured,
The strength, that mighty strength,
Soaring above, high in the sky,
Seeking prey to feed its young,
The courage of a warrior,
With eyes so keen,
Just as a hero, yet so unsung,
Wings so black, yet head so white,
The Bald Eagle Soars,
In the heavens so blue,
It stands for all, willing to fight,
Freedom it stands for,
A beauty in flight,
A character of strength,
With its beauty it soars
Over the water and then the trees,
With wings spread, as it peers to the ground
Owning the sky, as it soars above
Protecting its country, in the early spring breeze.
poem by B.J. Ayers
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J' Accuse, ' Of Vice and Men
Of Vice and Men.
Here in my pen,
There is so much to say,
The same old song,
Man's got it wrong,
He cannot find his way.
The Conquering Lie,
Time does defy,
We're all caught in the Web,
No matter how the people try,
They'll never get ahead.
The Tribal Chief,
Promotes our grief,
Democracy defies,
Unjustly does he hide the Truth,
To better, Tyrannize.
Man's History, a mystery,
Of fiction and of lies,
Of Demagogues, and Red-eyed Rouges,
Where Liberty just dies!
Uncivilized, we still remain,
Is war a way of life?
Can Man only perpetuate,
Unhappiness and strife?
It's time to Stop,
War, murder, drop,
The innocent despair,
The Lives are lost,
Dictators, boast,
And who is there to care?
Of Vice and Men,
And Wars and Lies,
There's still so much to say,
We realize, that man just tries,
But Evil has it's way.
Of Vice and Men and Men and mice,
One day we shall recall,
That men were mice,
With so much Vice,
and that finished us All.
poem by Sandra Feldman
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Bubble Bray - 0822 - Current Version
Time's muzzle mocks ambitions. Day by day,
through life's incessant dream theme ebb and flow,
efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
none may control, - coincidence at play
enacts a chance dance time mime stop and go
whose pattern frame spins into vertigo
flaking dates and energy away.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
cannot be reined, restrained, nor string nor bow
fires through some causal bull's eye to echo
sense sustained. Profane, with bubble bray,
most blow hot, cold on stage, then sink unheard
before they even feel flow's ripples stirred.
(9 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taste Life's Perfume with incense kindled at the Muse's flame - Modus Vivendi
Mind bright is masked by magic, vibrant charm,
awareness keen seeks change of scene, sea change.
Unique potential seeds extensive range,
dreams space, needs time, autonomy, finds calm
extracting from life's vigour soothing balm.
Modus vivendi ventures, tests exchange,
authenticity attains, where naught seems strange,
undaunted by life's challenges, spurns qualms,
detects through radar all who might do harm
eliminating those unworthy who
mock trust, too often are unable to
add without taking more, threats to disarm.
Undeterred, rise 'far from madding crowd'
determine choice, voice deepest thoughts aloud.
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 16 April 2008 revised 20 May 2008 for previous version see below
'Maude Us Vivendi'
Magic smile masks mind behind the charm
Always aware, observant, seeking change.
Unique talents need extensive range
Dream of space, autonomy and calm
Extracting from life's vigour soothing balm.
Modus vivendi often finds it strange
As few attain an authentic exchange.
Undaunted, though, her intuition's arm
Detects by radar all who might do harm
Eliminating those unworthy who
Mock trust, and often are unable to
Add without taking more. These she'd disarm
Undeterred, far from the crowd she'd rise
DEtermined to win through to joyous skies...
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 16 April 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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