Requiem I - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Through the artificial flowers
let me slide when all my powers
have passed as pass man’s mortal hours,
and let me burn.
Spurn graven verses for my head,
spade not the body laid, instead,
as I’ll no longer look ahead
book me no urn.
© Jonathan Robin – written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem for alternative version see below
robi03_0795_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
Requiem II
From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
set free who sad lived, glad the page
turns uniting night to day.
Crave no rave elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here actor lies in heart arrest
retractions over his clay.
© Jonathan Robin – written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem revised 25 December 2009
robi03_0796_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
for previous version see below
Requiem II
In a dark, unwholesome cage
let me fret and seethe in rage,
sadly I’ve lived and glad the page
turns uniting night and day.
Rave no crude elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here lies life’s actor under arrest
with a tractor over his clay.
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me
Here he lies where he long’d to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 - 1894
Requiem
Under the free and open sky,
There let me rest, nor breathe a sigh, -
Gladly I’ve lived, and gladly I’ll lie,
Content by night and day.
Grave no rude tombstone to mark my rest;
But deep in your soul may you say with zest;
“Here is the Seeker after his Quest,
And the Actor after the Play.”
Hamish Mann 1896 – 1917 A Subaltern’s Musings: 1918
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Requiem II - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem II
From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
set free who sad lived, glad the page
turns uniting night to day.
Crave no rave elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here actor lies in heart arrest
retractions over his clay.
revised 25 December 2009
robi03_0796_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
for previous version see below
Requiem II
In a dark, unwholesome cage
let me fret and seethe in rage,
sadly I’ve lived and glad the page
turns uniting night and day.
Rave no crude elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here lies life’s actor under arrest
with a tractor over his clay.
Requiem I
Through the artificial flowers
let me slide when all my powers
have passed as pass man’s mortal hours,
and let me burn.
Spurn graven verses for my head,
spade not the body laid, instead,
as I’ll no longer look ahead
book me no urn.
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me
Here he lies where he long’d to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 - 1894
Requiem
Under the free and open sky,
There let me rest, nor breathe a sigh, -
Gladly I’ve lived, and gladly I’ll lie,
Content by night and day.
Grave no rude tombstone to mark my rest;
But deep in your soul may you say with zest;
“Here is the Seeker after his Quest,
And the Actor after the Play.”
Hamish Mann 1896 – 1917 A Subaltern’s Musings: 1918
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you 'grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Men State - Parody Diana MORGAN - Statement
Men State
Ladies who would break the rules
toy with boys they take as tools.
(c) Jonathan Robin - Parody written 1 December 1995
Statement
Gentlemen who are not fools
Take out girls who know the rules.
Diana MORGAN My Sex Right or Wrong: 1947
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Words Woven - Parody Mary BEULEY - Words Woven
Words woven into speech
soon reach
intact thread spirit of each act,
knit warp and weft of wit wish fact,
dreams' tapestry may teach.
Words express essentials,
transmit, unwind
from mind to mind,
address ideas which, blind,
would grope for means to equate
sensations refined,
coarse, sophisticate.
Thus they incarnate
emotion's multi coloured coat, pattern twist
around ideas which form,
unform,
inform or disinform,
or take by storm
precisely or by gist
the geist soul kissed.
Words woven into speech
pen hand,
when scanned
from thoughts’ life blood leach
emotions, sense, dressed to suit
points phallic and points mute,
ideo-grand!
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY 1837_1916 written 12 December 1995 – Words Woven revised 31 July 2008 notably first verse below
Words woven into speech
soon reach
to knit the spirit of each act,
the warp and weft of every fact,
through dreams to teach.
______________
Words Woven
Words woven into rhyme
In time
Become a tapestry of thought
A canvas of experience in which
Our dreams are wrought.
Words are the evidence of what goes on
communicate
Within the mind.
They clothe the invisible
With robes of speech,
Sophisticated as silk,
Homespun as hessian,
And in between
The many-patterned, many-textured range,
Familiar and strange,
Of words -
Woven and dyed and spun
For Fun
Or seriously aware
Of what is there.
Words woven into rhyme
Or prose
Transpose
Giving the tiny embryo of thought
A dress to wear, most delicately wrought,
And caught for ever in a form know
And understand.
Mary BEULEY 1837_1916
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY written 12 December 1995
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Résumé I, II - Parody Dorothy Parker - Résumé
Ties restrain you,
flies handicap,
laces strain you -
so cut the crap!
To the wind fall
mouldy socks,
free, unpinned, all
chastity locks.
Cotton, plastic
polymers spun,
and elastic, -
all undone.
Brand names flutter
spuriously
to the gutter
falling free...
© Jonathan Robin - Parody Dorothy PARKER – Résumé written 1 December 1995
Résumé II - Carry on Captains Courageous...
Key Iraqis go to bat
for Sadam in khaki hat,
Rabbis Rabin shoot to kill -
Judah’s stab in back boots ill.
Istambul bears Turkey pies,
curds way, paring budgets high.
Hutu-Tutsi’s united states
to new chaos disintegrates.
Russia’s booming, Soviet
sees end looming so Viet
sends for G.I.’s and their aids, -
good and bad guys lost on raids.
Bosno, Croat manipulate
bombs to throw at Serbian state,
Montenegro NATO mauls, -
white and negro answer calls.
Tino Craxi brought to book,
all too lax he powder took.
Berlusconi followed on
Mafia’s crony, - bribes are buon.
Charles, Camilla, paint the town,
crown, Diana, tumble down.
From the workers Chirac calls
perks and shirkers ere he falls...
© Jonathan Robin - Parody Dorothy PARKER – Résumé written 1 December 1995
Résumé
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Dorothy PARKER 1893_1967
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Requiem For Bartok
A Requiem for Bartok
Viola Concerto
which he never finished
poor and broke in New York
as so many were and still are
he died
there was no dirge
no elegy
no requiem
for a true artist
has no true friend
they called him a genius
a great artist
they even finished writing
his last testament
his Viola Concerto
but nobody knew him
he was alone
in his Hungarian solitude
nobody sang
a dirge
an elegy
not even a requiem
for him
one early spring night
in a Colorado town
far away from New York
I saw a woman on the stage
in the shadow of his light
let her viola sing
what cannot be sung
alone in the midst of the clamor
of symphonic chaos
people sat still
like silent tomb stones
just listened
vacant eyes
she was playing a loving requiem
for Bartok
Suchoon Mo
-Sage Of Consciousness, vol.2,2, May 2006-
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Ambiguity Arose - after Rose Aylmer Walter Savage LANDOR
Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
for Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.
Where is the flush, the lush embrace,
starred eyes that carefree twinkled?
Night draws its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries sinkled.
Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and voice divinely tinkled,
if all behind be ugly, base,
with mind both blind and wrinkled?
Some say unique is every case,
eyes amber, periwinkled,
yet all too soon return to base,
AND DNA's ash sprinkled.
Oh, What avails a pretty face,
bright eye sublimely crinkled,
each must a double lie encase
life left confirms this inkle!
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0313 parody written 17 December 1991 revised 14 May 2007 and 31 October 2008 Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer for previous versions - title Rose Aylmer's Cousin - see below
Rose Aylmer's Cousin
Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
as Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.
Where is the flush, the lush embrace,
starred eyes that carefree twinkled?
Night draws its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries sinkled.
Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and voice dIvinely tinkled,
if all behind be ugly, base,
with mind both blind and wrinkled?
Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and eye sublimely crinkled,
should it a double lie encase
and life confirm this inkle? ...
© Jonathan Robin – parody written 17 December 1991 revised 14 May 2007 for initial version see below
Rose Aylmer's Cousin
Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
for Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.
The flush once full that did embrace,
those eyes that carefree twinkled,
Night pulls its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries crinkled.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0313 parody written 17 December 1991
Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer
Rose Aylmer
Ah, what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and signs
I consecrate to thee.
Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864
see also
Rose Aylmer’s Cousin
? ? ?
Gail White
Night of Memories
Rose Aylmer whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.
Mr Latimer in County Chronicle 1950
Angela Thirkell 1890_1961
Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer
A Confession
Roundel
I’ve loved but thee, who art but stay!
If told the startling truth must be,
I'llspeak: forget the words, I pray,
'I've loved but thee.'
'Twas not on Herrick, but on me
That Julia cast for many a day
Her wondrous spell of witcherie;
And I it was who, wakeful, lay,
And sighed that I should never see
Rose Aylmer: so I cannot say,
I’ve loved but thee.
Parody Julia – Robert Herrick
and
Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer
Published 1890 J. G. CUPPLES Co. Boston
Herbert Walcott Bowen 1856_1927
Oh, What Avail?
Ah, what avail the loaded dice?
Ah, what the tubs of wine?
What every weakness, every vice?
Tom Cardan, all were thine.
Aldous Huxley 1894_1963 Barren Leaves
Parody Walter Savage LANDOR 1775_1864 Rose Aylmer
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Penny Wise?
Woman is a paradox,
maid man, unmade-up, shocks:
first fair, then jet, straight, curly locks
preferring, spends her pounds
in losing pounds and thus she mocks
her wai(s) t on earth - weight grounds
high hopes for lightness - Goldilocks,
spends cents sans sense, from birth to box -
like men who her pet mirth are found,
both sage and jester, light, profound -
lies soon, sighs, swoons, earth bound.
2 December 1995 revised 18 July 2007
robi03_0794_robi03_0000 WXX_DJX
for previous version see below
Penny Wise?
Woman is a paradox,
She heights and depths both plumbs;
who golden here, there curly locks
prefers, who spends her pounds
in losing pounds and thus she mocks
her wai[s]t on earth - weight grounds
high hopes for lightness - Goldilocks
lies soon, sighs, swoons, earth bound.
2 December 1995
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Responsum to All my days are trances
A las the dream askance is
N or is Life what it seems,
A s swift pass all Time’s chances -
N ow here, now gone, - Man’s schemes
S mile once! Ephemeral glances
WER e spent on empty dreams!
© Jonathan Robin acrostic parody written 26 June 1996 Parody Responsum to All my days are trances
All my days are trances
And all my days are trances
and all my nightly dreams
are where thy dark eye glances
and where they footstep gleams
by what ethereal dances
in what eternal streams...
Author Unknown
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Timely Open Book
An attractive pair of eyes
of almond aspect, startling size,
sparkle with suggestive look
to signal “I’m an open book”
to which all welcome are who, wise,
rise, meet sweet challenge, find replies
the overhasty overlook.
Moreover, who their minds mistook
face value take where their own lies
make mirror image, dark disguise,
soon blot their ego's copybook -
self image wage, page books may cook.
From downturned mouth to upturned nose
verse flows until this tale we close.
22 June 2005 revised 5 December 2008
robi03_1286_robi03_0000 SXX_JLX
for previous version entitled Open Book see below
Open Book
An attractive pair of eyes
of almond aspect, startling size,
sparkle with suggestive look
to signal “I’m an open book”
to which all welcome are who, wise,
rise, meet the challenge, find replies
that overhasty overlook,
while those face value take mistook
are where they make for their own lies
a mirror image, dark disguise –
and thus soon blot their copybook...
© Jonathan Robin – Sonnet written 22 June 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Heart to Cherish
A heart to cherish and warm hand to hold
High raise all mortal clay from common mould,
Elevates base elements to gold
As magic fusion cuts confusion's hold.
Rest not on sidelines, ceremony trace,
Thrust through Fate’s weight, cue to true interface
That, ma chérie, may see heart heart enfold
On lease from life itself, which won’t grow old.
Could mirrors speak they’d blush, no silver scold
Harsh time reflect, so joyfully behold
Enchanting offspring duplicate glow's grace,
Resounding echo both of soul, surface.
Incarceration end, lets celebrate
SHared emotions' oceans liberate.
14 December 1995 revised as acrostic A HEART TO CHERISH 31 August 2007
robi03_0801_robi03_0000 ASX_LXX
see below for previous version
A Heart to Cherish
A heart to cherish and a hand to hold
lifts Man’s mortal clay from common mould,
transforms base elements to finest gold
through magic fusion, let the truth be told.
Stand not on sidelines, ceremony, trace
Fate’s lines through daring caring interface.
Charming features charmèd heart enfold,
on lease from life itself, which can’t grow old.
If mirrors spoke, they’d blush, could never scold,
prove mirage mirage, all else oversold.
Should children come they’d duplicate true grace -
enchanting echo both of soul, surface.
Transmit heart’s signals to communicate
emotion’s oceans, love anticipate.
14 December 1995
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Cold Air Masses
Your requiem is rising
from a wailing sea.
It blends among inconsolable
gull cries, beyond
your hearing.
Every fluctuating wave
calls to mind your unexpectant
departure, and now there
is no unharboured bird
more destitute
than I.
Your requiem is rising
from a wailing sea,
about to abort your awayness
and skepticism with yet
more in the series
of I-love-you's.
I would make an effort
to summon by sea-bird
back from sunless soaring heights
for your requiem is rising
still from a wailing sea.
reposted 03/05/08
poem by Gregory Wm. Gunn
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Love's Requiem
Confusion writhes around our hearts impatiently
It drains the faith that lights the dark and sets us free
From the chains of our war and the pain we once called love
The poison of doubt enslaves our minds and we bleed
We abandon the trust that kept us blind and disappear
Under the crimson wings of hate where the lost are safe
Until they love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
We pray to the serpent of delight desperately
The questions are answered and we try not to weep
Until we are sure we're suffering for love
In the dungeon of our dreams we're so weak
The promise made to be broken still haunts our sleep
We won't open our eyes afraid we would die for love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
The salvation we seek will be waiting us there
In the heart of darkness lonely and scared
With a promise of death for our love
And now that we're free from the chains of our dark love
I'm lost
And now that we're free from the chains of our dark love
I'm lost
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until we're one and sing me you're beautiful song
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our love's requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until we're one and sing me you're beautiful song...
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Friends At Home
TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost
The gracious old, the lovely young, to May
The fair, December the beloved,
These from my blue horizon and green isles,
These from this pinnacle of distances I,
The unforgetful, dedicate.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Soon Our Friends Perish
SOON our friends perish,
Soon all we cherish
Fades as days darken - goes as flowers go.
Soon in December
Over an ember,
Lonely we hearken, as loud winds blow.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Requiem For Evita
(crowd:)
Requiem aeternum dona evita
Requiem aeternum dona evita
Requiem evita, requiem evita
Evita, evita, evita, evita
Grant eternal rest to evita
Grant eternal rest to evita
Rest to evita, rest to evita
Evita, evita, evita, evita
Requiem aeternum dona evita
Requiem aeternum dona evita
Requiem evita, requiem evita
Evita, evita, evita, evita
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loves Requiem
Confusion writhes around our hearts impatiently
It drains the faith that lights the dark and sets us free
From the chains of our war and the pain we once called love
The poison of doubt enslaves our minds and we bleed
We abandon the trust that kept us blind and disappear
Under the crimson wings of hate where the lost are safe
Until they love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
We pray to the serpent of delight desperately
The questions are answered and we try not to weep
Until we are sure were suffering for love
In the dungeon of our dreams were so weak
The promise made to be broken still haunts our sleep
We wont open our eyes afraid we would die for love again
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
The salvation we seek will be waiting us there
In the heart of darkness lonely and scared
With a promise of death for our love
And now that were free from the chains of our dark love
Im lost
And now that were free from the chains of our dark love
Im lost
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until were one and sing me youre beautiful song
The heart of darkness is hope of finding you there
And that hope will be our loves requiem
Take me into your arms and sing me your beautiful song
Hold me until were one and sing me youre beautiful song...
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Priorities
PRIORITIES
Today’s priorities tomorrow fade,
dissolved, distorted by Time's tug of war.
What all important seemed one day before
turns sour before its zest to rest is laid,
incorporated into causal braid,
what’s left sewn through waft-weft of life’s rapports.
It serves no sense to fear what lies in store
for others, for oneself - life’s game is played
with Life itself, spurns Death's amoral spade.
Timed candle splutters, will f[l]ame rise once more,
or shroud itself in darkness, curtains draw,
veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burka maid?
For passing sigh thrilled head’s held high, yet soon
both silver spoon and slum lie dumb, stilled tune.
f[l]ame = flame fame lame l'âme aim am me
3 December 2001 revised 10 December 2008
robi03_0974_robi03_0000 SXX_CDJ
for previous version see below
Priorities
Priorities today, tomorrow fade,
dissolved, distorted by Time's tug of war.
What all important seemed the day before
turns sour before appointed hour, is laid
aside by patterns Cause, Effect may braid
into the waft and weft of their rapport.
It serves no sense to fear what lies in store
for others, for oneself, - life’s game is played
with Life itself, spurns Death's amoral spade.
The candle splutters, will f[l]ame rise once more,
or shroud itself in darkness, curtains draw,
veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burka maid?
For passing sigh-space head’s held high, yet soon
all is dissolved for slum or silver spoon...
3 December 2001
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Directions
NEW DIRECTIONS
Why face dejection on an online page,
heart dark foreboding contest trophies lost,
misplaced rejection outlines inner cost
step on cold road stings egotistic rage.
Blind interjection seems vain sacrilege
st[r]ung from sterile code, with lies embossed,
no need for def[l]ection conscience tossed,
or rigid thought-mode - spirit’s self made cage.
Unshared reflections seldom souls engage,
can’t transfer load, translate degrees of frost.
Let go, - sow new directions, river crossed,
Where upload crafts emotions, sets fresh stage.
So nets to open source true lend an ear
Sonnets through hopes endorsed too blend, endear.
23 March 2005 revised 31 December 2008
robi03_1108_robi03_0000 QSX_IKX
New Directions poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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