Related quotes: BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies...

Serve Verse - Anagram Acrostic - Bud Free in Time, Shape Your Heart's Vision Through Verse

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! PROD, DROP disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off REEF, FREE dark skies.
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies.
ITEM EMIT for as TIME flies
No MITE, POOL LOOP, personnifies
The DEW WED, so NODE DONE advise
IT RIPS the SPIRIT – so scribe’s highs
May LOWS SLOW link, revise.
Easy WOLF FLOW satisfies.
Splice I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
HEART'S ARTS HE MASTERS STREAMS supplies
As SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
PART STALE TALE's TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
Each THREAD - no DEARTH - needs systemize
You EDIT TIDE DIET DEED despise
Objections COLD CLOD compromise.
URGES SURGE FROM FORMal guise,
REACT, TRACE NOW WON OWN enterprise.
He who GUIDES IS in DISGUISE
Each GENIC ZERO RECOGNIZE -
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise -
Response to dark INSURES SUNRISE!
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
Sometimes it OVERSIMPLIFIES
Verse low for LO IMPs IMPROVISE
IDEAS ASIDE on SITE link TIES -
Some POLEMICS, where one COMPLIES
In ONE COMPILES, NEO BUSY BUYS,
Or, FACE ITS SIN it SANCTIFIES
Naught - for I SIMPLE e'er IMPLIES
The rhyme IS SUPPLE and SUPPLIES
Here sharing and 'I SCREED' DECRIES.
Rubbish IT CHASES to CHASTISE
Or TEACH not CHEAT, through verse RITES TRIES
Uses INTACT, IN TACT rectifes,
Good SIRE, to RISE above weak cries.
Here knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it flies -
Vocation EVIL, VILE, denies.
END prison DEN, let VERSE SERVE guys!
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL fast past lies...
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

_____________________

Bud Free!

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! shed all disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off, REEF FREE dark skies.
Knit I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
ROSE, SORE, RETWINS, WINTERS defies.
IN ONE I NONE FILE LIFE. Arise!
STREAM MASTER – HEART ART HE supplies
The SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
Your WOLF’S growl grows FLOWS fertilize.
PART is a TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
In knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it dies.
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies,
Vocation EVIL VILE denies, -
END Lion’s DEN, REEF FREE, cease sighs
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL off past lies....
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Bud Free - Anagram Acrostic

BUD FREE!

5 April 2005
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Initial version of Serve Verse 12 April 2005
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Bud Free poem © Jonathan Robin

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SERVE VERSE!

BUD FREE IN TIME, SHAPE YOUR HEART'S VISION THROUGH VERSE

12 April 2005
robi03_1197_robi03_0000 AQW_EIJ

Serve Verse! poem © Jonathan Robin

Revised version of Bud Free!
5 April 2005 robi03_1150_robi03_0000 AQX_EIJ
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poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever before Never

FOREVER BEFORE NEVER

Beneath stone slab forever lies
broker who could not devise
a way to pass on – sympathise! -
Rights Called when Death culled by surprise
And early Options exercised.
For him, for yours, bore worm supplies
answer unsought ‘neath sunny skies.
Bond Issues G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycle Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
Instructive Income, Prime rate wise
is Bonus gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Enjoy the day, before one dies,
life’s love true Love intensifies.
Insurance under in any guise
ignored is once will’s parchment dries.
Fee Contract, contact free, belies
fragility, no fortune buys
eternity when dock denies
soul’s sole appeal as none arise
when life’s Foreclosed, or rectifies
Mortgage Debenture - too late for cries
adventure over, severed ties.
Skeletal sods like last goodbyes
few mortals care to recognize
for Time forever forwards flies.

23 April 1990 revised 11 February 2009
robi03_0308_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ

for previous version entitled On a Stockbroker see below

On a Stockbroker

Beneath this slab forever lies
a broker who could not devise
a way to pass on (sympathise) ,
the Rights that Death would exercise.
An thus it is the worm supplies
a Bond which G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycling Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
An Income of instruction wise
is offered gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Seek to enjoy, before one dies,
the love that Love intensifies,
assistance under in any guise
offer free beneath these skies
for Time forever forwards flies.

23 April 1990

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homerun - 1060

From dark to light one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.

Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won't sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.

See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves, each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf's demise.

Men, weak 'how, what, when, why'
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame's flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can't buy.

Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.

Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies,
dare not, with rules comply,
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.

Life's voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize,
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! Why?

Tide turns, Time's spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply.
from light to dark, sole sigh.

(9 February 2005)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homerun

HOMERUN
From dark to light – one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, – strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.

Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won’t sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.

See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves – each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf’s demise.

Men, weak “how, what, when, why”
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame’s flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can’t buy.

Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.

Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies, -
dare not, with rules comply, -
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.

Life’s voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize -
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! ... Why?

Tide turns, Time’s spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, - rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply...
from light to dark, sole sigh.

9 February 2005
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Homerun Poem © Jonathan Robin
see also Homespun
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HOMESPUNBirth Mirth Worth Girth Dearth Earth Berth

From dark to light – one cry, homespun.
Cot, tot, fine whine, youth vies at last
to rise, to shine, – strength tries so fast
to test itself far, nigh, to run
above the common sty or scrum,
tries stratagems devised to cast,
with sun at zenith high, shade vast, ...
ignores Time fleeting by. The sum?
Who fools are, who are wise, succumb.
Who true, who in disguise, outlast
the dreaded drum’s surprise, stand fast
can further innings try? Soon dumb!
Come night, tomb stark, done, lie forgot, – time spun
From light doom dark one sigh, poor lot, – rhyme done!

20 January 2005
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see also Homerun
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Homes pun Poem © Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dare She?

Some sentiments destabilize
when inner thoughts through other eyes
by magic pen may formalize.
Perhaps, despite protective sighs,
hope lies ahead, helps shed disguise?

Tight rope walk from walled citadel,
beset by fears Time can’t dispel,
sits one who may have loved too well, -
emotions dares nor share nor tell,
lest betrayal breach hope's shell.

Stands, reflects with much surprise,
upon commitment’s even ties, -
scarred by a past which “self” denies,
scared behind sweet sparkling eyes, -
lest she should lose herself, fair prize.

Is real from drawbridge cusp choice free
or reel rewound where wounds may be
reopened although memory
real_I_tease would hide, - stiff fee
to pay for ransomed soul at sea.

Reality may coincide
with dreams when two, as one allied,
advance together, prospects wide
embrace with motives bona fide
face future fearless, side by side,
all former errors rectified.

Fate scoops hope's bottle from life's sea -
half-full? half-empty? - destiny
plays games with will, reality.
Combine, merge, urge purge, splurge surge, key
into choice voice, rejoice, set free.

For 'what will be' can't stay inside
time genie's bottle, chance denied,
must scene tranlate to act, play ride
from start through end as plot supplied
threads to conclusion which may guide
fresh start for heart wait's weight defied.

Careful, fearful, fitful, she
herself seems her worst enemy,
seeks protection, amity.
What controls her destiny?
dare she let go, for once not flee?

Maybe its time to realize
that though fleet Time so swiftly flies
compromise can’t circumsize
future options that arise
to offer comforting replies.

She, where others buy and sell,
for silver pawn their souls to Hell,
sheltered beneath protective shell, -
more flirt on call than siren bell
though on hid softness fond thoughts dwell.

Who’d wish her heart he satisfies,
may seek HER truth where most, less wise,
confide blind trust to logic’s lies…
In harmony hope's answer lies,
shared peace, that love alone supplies.

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetic Standard

Poetic inspiration must supply
Open sourced resourcefulness, may not
Exist in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
That holds back harmony from inner eye.
Insidious compromise can't satisfy
Creative impulse that rejects as blot
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Tired lines block, lock life's vista, dreams deny.
All hesitation acts out living lie
None should accept to temper daily rot,
Dread time-trap snapped shut once one bolt is shot.
Aloft soar, draw from intuitions, fly!
Read much, hunch heed, rise from rant's rubbish vent,
Dare to revise, creative dance invent.

Skein poetic weaves life's leaves. Flash wink
Turns think through ink to stage fulfilling page
As insight mixes music, words wild, sage.
No Tao is tainted that cues tone-true link
Descriptive and instructive, scanned in sync.
Although some self-styled poets feel form's cage,
Review Stravinsky's words, all doubts assuage.
Deny blank prose poetic rose crown. Drink
Pierian deep, sip not lip-service brink,
Or compensate for feelings trapped to wage
Ego war against injustice guaged,
To ease maimed spirit's claims of unfair stink.
Inside poetic process progress make,
Craft well, rewrite, reword from second take.

6 September 2009 robi3_1908_robi3_0845 ASX_IXX
Acrostic Sonnet POETIC STANDARD STANDARD POETIC
See notes and related poems below
__________________
Pierian Spring

The Pierian Spring from greek mythology is held the metaphorical source of knowledge about the arts and science. Pieria, ancient Macedonia, was the location of Mount Olympus, the seat of worship of Orpheus and the Muses. The spring is believed to be a fountain of knowledge that inspires whoever drinks from it.

Alexander Pope - Essay on Criticism

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.

______________

'The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees oneself of the chains that shackle the spirit... the arbitrariness of the constraint only serves to obtain precision of execution.' Igor Stravinsky

_____________________

Poetic Inspiration

Poetic inspiration must not tarry,
dry up, discouraged, over-analyse.
Expectations entertained help carry
message deep to conquer Time which flies.
There is no cause to dam perceptions, parry
questions put, those jealousy implies
to force reaction where response should marry
all to all, - no need to temporize.
Refute temptation, motives mercenary,
yet neither 'look too good, nor talk too wise’.

Before vague interferences the mind
distorts, today’s perceptions twists, heart tries
to focus clearly, insight redefined
and shares impressions' pulse which never dies
while magic taps into soul’s spring to bind
into emotions each identifies
mundane events transformed, sense underlined
with Jericho's walls fallen, fear defies.
Transcending formal fetters much maligned
inspiration loves to improvise.

Through intuition lucky few may find
such inspiration free verse seldom tries
to pin down, qualify, or predefine.
All limits disappear as 'hows? and whys? '
loose, lose, restrictions, innate truth unwind.
Across dimensions musing spirit flies,
base substance shed, trite trammels left behind,
as gravity dissolves, - no lows, no highs -
as meanings are decoded, intertwined
in ink which links 'I think', 'you feel', 'we rise'.

Exacting standards which sustain no blot,
must overcome doubts day to day supplies,
quit half-life half-light, cut the gordian knot
of form to swarm above what satisfies
secondary lot where those forgot,
who blindly rules obey, life lose. Surprise
lights eyes so seldom as progressive rot
sets in, skin deep or masked by dark disguise,
accepts trip’s time-trap trigger, its bolt shot.
Yet inspiration no rules justifies.

Scorning hesitation’s living lies,
which dew drops gathered from forget-me-not
ignore, or leave untouched, passed by with sighs,
informed awareness reaches out from what
seems insignificance, can recognize
energies innate, taste cold and hot,
to spurn self-satisfaction’s compromise, -
small slots refutes - for most the daily lot -
tendrils intangibles to realize
inner joy tease crosses, eyes may dot.

1 October 2005 revised 4 April 2008 robi3_1310_robi3_0845 XXX_EIJ
for previous version see below

Poetic Inspiration

Poetic inspiration must not tarry,
dry up, discouraged, over-analyse.
Expectations entertained help carry
message deep to conquer Time which flies.
There is no cause to dam perceptions, parry
questions put or those envy implies
to force reaction where response should marry
all to all, no need to temporize.
Refute temptation, motives mercenary,
‘and yet not look too good, nor talk too wise’.

Exacting standards which can stand no blot,
overcome doubts daily life supplies,
won’t live in half-light, cut the gordian knot
of form to swarm above what satisfies
secondary lot where those forgot,
with rules obeyed, convictions fade. Surprise
lights eyes so seldom as progressive rot
sets in, skin deep or masked by dark disguise,
accepts trip’s time-trap trigger, its bolt shot.

Scorning hesitation’s living lies,
dew drops gathered from forget-me-not,
informed awareness reaches out to touch
apparent insignificance, relies
not on self-satisfaction’s compromise, -
open to intangible, mines much,
sustaining promise, spurning formal ties.
Refuse small slot - for most the daily lot. 1 October 2005

____________

Living Lie

Poetic inspiration can’t run dry,
expectations entertains, cannot
live in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
dividing consciousness from inner eye.
No compromises ever satisfy
exacting standards that reject as blot,
secondary lot where, half forgot,
convictions pale are held to not apply.
Hesitation is a living lie
most men accept to ease their daily rot,
time-trap snapped shut once only bolt is shot.
Try who will, few still find wings to fly.
Thus when two meet, see differences dissolve,
empathy Earth’s mysteries may solve.

20 June 1997 revised 26 November 2006 robi3_0845_robi3_0000 SXX_IKX
for previous version see below – previous title Hesitations are a Living Lie

Hesitation is a Living Lie

He whose inspiration won’t run dry
Expectations entertains, cannot
Live in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
Encompassing the spirit’s inner eye.
No compromises here can satisfy
Exacting standards which accept no blot,
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Convictions fade, men fondest hopes deny.
Hesitations are a living lie
Most men accept to ease their daily rot.
It is a time-trap. Once the bolt is shot
Try who will, few find the wings to fly.
Thus when two meet, see differences dissolve,
Harmony Earth’s mysteries can solve.

20 June 1997

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thread Tomorrow's Ties Acrostic

Mutation through maturity implies
Adolescent crisis dissipated,
Requiring focus to stay motivated –
Inner challenge which cocoon defies
As Fortune’s “slings and arrows” needs denies –
Harsh seems today. Not over-compensated
Or, self-deluded, self-commiserated,
Refusing with contempt both compromise
And self-respect to plan tomorrow’s ties.
Know Cause, Effect, combine when integrated
One’s weakness, strengths, are; strong will dedicated
Victory, self-confidence, supplies.
Another birthday comes with virgin page -
Make most of opportunities... shed cage!

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who I Am

If I’m over six feet tall with blue eyes…
That’s not who I am.
If my extra weight is hard to disguise…
That’s not who I am.
If I have all that money buys…
That’s not who I am.
If I’m smart with powerful allies,
That’s not who I am.
If I’ve seen the world as far as a plane flies…
That’s not who I am.
If I love cheese burgers and French fries…
That’s not who I am.

I am a comfort when someone cries…
That’s who I am.
I loosen painful, sorrowful ties…
That’s who I am.
I offer consolation when someone dies…
That’s who I am.
I am a help for each who tries…
That’s who I am.
I’m happy even under cloudy skies…
That’s who I am.
I love in spite of faults and lies
Or anyone who doubts or denies…
That’s who I am and as you see
That is who I will always be.

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love In Disguise

Sometimes things fall apart
That's god's love in disguise
And when i break your heart
That's my love in disguise
When you awake in pain
It should come as no surprise
I'm not sure i care
But it still must be there
My love in disguise
And all you want are sweet lies
I see my problem now
Her love was in disguise
Some fear that won't allow
Her love to shed this guise
Ian, don't be a fool
Look what she's done
She'll do it again
Pale, pure, and virgin things
So frail, it turns from my eyes
It hides while i become
So hurt my heart is numb
When love is in disguise
The best you have is sweet lies
Ian she'll be our downfall
Don't believe your eyes
Lies! and she'll leave you all alone
Possessiveness and jealousy
We recognize easily
That which we claim to prize
No one can recognize
The poor young sap is unaware of
Things that we are all aware of
The knife she hides behind her back
Misery! he gets his share of
The flowers must pollinate
The beasts are forced to mate
Woman and man decide
Yet we're not satisfied
God's love is in disguise
And all we want are sweet lies
Sweet lies
Long live the glorious revolution

song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballade Of The Mistletoe Bough

I am standing under the mistletoe,
And I smile, but no answering smile replies
For her haughty glance bids me plainly know
That not for me is the thing I prize;
Instead, from her coldly scornful eyes,
Indifference looks on my barefaced guile;
She knows, of course, what my act implies—
But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?

I stand here, eager, and beam and glow,
And she only looks a refined surprise
As clear and crisp and as cold as snow,
And as—Stop! I will never criticise!
I know what her cold glance signifies;
But I’ll stand just here as I am awhile
Till a smile to my pleading look replies—
But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?

Just look at those lips, now! I claim they show
A spirit unmeet under Christmas skies;
I claim that such lips on such maidens owe
A—something—the custom justifies;
I claim that the mistletoe rule applies
To her as well as the rank and file;
We should meet these things in a cheerful guise—
But look at those lips! Do they hint a smile?

ENVOY

These customs of Christmas may shock the wise,
And mistletoe boughs may be out of style,
And a kiss be a thing that all maids despise—
But look at those lips, do! They hint a smile!

poem by Ellis Parker Butler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

A Wolf In Sheep’s clothing

Written by: Wiflred Mellers, Friday, September 3,2010 @ 12: 39 PM

My heart lies between her thighs

From regions southern I gazing into her eyes

Apparatus of speech I exercise

From the lair the beast arise

From slumber now to full-size

Rocking the boat till it almost capsize

Juices flow to baptize

Cream-filled center tasted till it dries

Grunts and groans she replies

Tongue’s motion makes an incise

Glorious sounds reaches to the skies

In and out and even slantwise

From dawn till dusk back to sunrise

Energy filled to ample supplies

Stimulus by fingers reactions to higher highs

For this moment in time I shall reprise

Nirvana reaching she tries

Rounding corners turning edgewise

Stopping now would surely be unwise

Shangri-La she reaches to no surprise

Thank god she replies

Tales now I surmise

For in this I tell you no lies

A wolf in sheep’s clothing in disguise

poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ere Sleep Comes Down To Soothe The Weary Eyes

ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,
And make the waking world a world of lies, —
Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs, —
Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How all the griefs and heartaches we have known
Come up like pois'nous vapors that arise
From some base witch's caldron, when the crone
To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
The past which held its share of bitter pain,
Whose ghost we prayed that Time might exorcise,
Comes up, is lived and suffered o'er again,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
That pay the spirit's ceaseless enterprise,
Come thronging through the chambers of the brain,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
Through what strange realms and unfamiliar skies
Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
To lands unspeakable — beyond surmise,
Where shapes unknowable to being spring,
Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
Much wearied with the spirit's journeying,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How questioneth the soul that other soul, —
The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
But self exposes unto self, a scroll
Full writ with all life's acts unwise or wise,
In characters indelible and known;
So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
The soul doth view its awful self alone,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
For kissing all our passions into calm,
Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world's cries,
Or seek to probe th' eternal mystery,
Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Rhyming Man

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.

I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.

You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme

poem by Francis Duggan
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Dear, Dare A Red Read - Polyacrostic

Jingle verse enjoy. In reversed jest
our game is hid - no orchestra in song, -
no signature, as no fit, link, strung strong
and taut traced are, for few see game addressed.
The care of each theme's wording to the test
here is pulled sharper. Read each line. Along
a web admired, placed true, is set among
new net mix dear. Note our name as none guessed.
Reach soul. Oh dare to free the thread expressed!
Over all sweet sound ends work to link, belong, -
bestirring can be. If thought inbinding's wrong
its warp reread in fairness, shriven guest!
Nut/kernel plan none smirk at, sense contest.
Judge, smile, and joy glean from a jest red blessed.

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...

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Little Money Buys

IT'S FUNNY HOW LITTLE MONEY BUYS.
JUST CARS AND HOUSES AND FANCY TIES.
IT HAS NO MEANING WHEN SOMEONE DIES.
JUST TO HEIRS WHO COVET ITS SIZE.

IT WON'T PLANT TRUTH WHEN JUSTICE LIES.
JUST DISTORT TRUTH WHEN JUSTICE TRIES.
IT'S NO SOLUTION FOR LONELY SIGHS.
JUST A CRUEL IMPOSTOR IN DISGUISE.

IT CAN'T EMBRACE A CHILD WHO CRIES.
JUST GIVE SAD HOPE, NOT LOVE THAT'S WISE.
IT WILL NEVER BUY A SINGLE SUNRISE.
JUST STEAL DAYS PROMISING A FALSE PRIZE.

IT'S FUNNY HOW LITTLE MONEY BUYS.
JUST 'WHATS' OF LIFE, NOT PRECIOUS 'WHYS'.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Thought And Demise

What is a thought meant to be,
But a hazardous waste of collected memory,
Twisted and embellished into clarity,
To complacently fall into sanity.

Who can understand enough to categorize,
The emotion that looms in the depths of the wise,
That animate all and light up the eyes,
That stir and trouble the sensitive cries,
Enshrined in a forgotten isle of lies,
Precariously navigated by the reader of skies,
Awakening the artist, who anxiously sighs,
Confronted by a reality he ardently denies,
In an idyllic stupor of creativity he lies,
The expanse of Beauty he tragically espies,
Vainly piercing the conceited disguise,
Of the unseen friends that secretly chastise,
Bane of the thorny rose that withers and dies,
Discarding shards of memory, the poet replies,
Hoping to perceive this catatonic prize,
As hope crumbles insipidly into demise,
Abandoning humanity with mournful goodbyes.

poem by Jeremy Cahoon
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Hope

HOPE
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Monday, January 30,2012, @ 3: 37 PM

Sometimes I want to lie down and cry
Sometimes I wish I could just die but why?
I cannot stem the tide, though I have tried
All I can do is to change my mind

A future I have to define
I will still try until the day I die
The tears won’t flow from my eyes
I must scale the tallest sky-rise

My soul shall touch the skies
Stress is just evil will in disguise
It is just no good that wants you to compromise
Let go those sad and lonely goodbyes

Keeping my eyes on the prize
Tomorrow can bring a surprise
So what, my life is not at a gallop
I shall never give up

I may never blowup
Blessed with life so I’ll getup
Life is a performance and not a warm-up
I will cope and never give up hope

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Poets Improvise

Pardon this poem's tale, warp w[r]it it be,
Old mind aims meets, binds word games into gear.
Ever scanned art, we let wise thoughts come clear,
Their end to share here, setting spirit free.
Some see spun verse with risibility.
I through revealed art relink lines sincere
Motifs realigning show in masked mots here, -
Pleasure discover in jest play, planned key.
Run round rhyme lines, read riddle's energy
Opens up house, home, renews one’s cheer.
Voyage take, see thread wed verse appear
In enchanted ave twine, idyll see!
So rhyme dare meet, as all bestirs joy's pleasure
NET treasure to men awe, as we spend leisure

© Jonathan Robin Polyacrostic wrriten 12 September 2005 and revised 3 June 2007
external acrostic: Poets Improvise
internal acrostics
ABLE WAS I ERE I SAW ELBA
Poets Improvise
HANDS HEED HANDS
TREASURE PLEASURE MEASURE

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Void

Don’t you feel the void
In your eyes?
Don’t your eyes well up
When she cries?

It’s been years…
You’ve seen her.
She knows that you
Miss her.

So why live a life
Full of lies?
Why deny these ties…
Under your deceptive guise?

Do you wait to see the day
She dies…
To bid her those final
Goodbyes?

Unlike the sun and the moon
Once she sets in her ashes,
She’ll never rise.
Even if your heart then
Cries and cries…

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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