Soft Chord - 0249 - after William Shakespeare Sonnet LXXI
If you, perchance, should glance upon this verse
discarding chance to dance behind dark veil,
force no false thought, distraught remorse rehearse,
advance to Time that which beneath his flail
best soonest were ingathered. What avail?
When flowers fade, few fill a pauper's purse
for souvenirs that shatter once we fail.
White Winter's chill will into dust disperse
shrunk, shrivelled sepals sere upon stormed stem.
Yet should soft chord be struck to intersperse
regrets with yearning, far from stratagem,
then could two spirits share, commune, converse...
Rhymed toxin tocsin sings no angel's wings,
no gilded lily brings to stem Time's stings.
(17 January 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sere upon the Stem - 0849 - after William Shakespeare Sonnet LXXI
If, reader, brave, your stave taps this grave verse
unable to wave back Death's sable veil,
my phantom name don't pantomime, rehearse,
resign to Time that which beneath blade flail
harvest tithed, foregathered lies. Few wail
when petals fall, few care a tinkers curse
for memories that mattered once. Loves fail
when Winter's chill wind will to dust disperse
sad withered sepals sere upon time's stem.
Where shared chords strung wrung hands and shadowed hearse
mock best laid stratagem of mice and men.
none challenge Time beyond agenda terse.
Stark, poet sought postscriptum post mortem
to hitch starlight which might pitch night condemn.
(27 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Life Freed for Life 0903
If from shared smiles the future springs
Can soft words wake a heart which waits
In hope for scope and joyful dates?
Expecting much her[e] poet brings
Life freed for life, each spirit sings,
Lightheartedly anticipates
Enchantment offered by the Fates.
Joined hands together cut old strings
Open spread fair shining wings,
Unleash emotions' inner gates
Emprisoned long by worthless weights.
ENgland, France, - chance glance Trust wins.
Lieu sur, safe harbour, can provide
Sure springboard which will stem time's tide.
(15 January 2000)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ah, Winter!
chill breeze
blowing into
nose eyes n ears
clogged nostrils
watery eyes
choked breathing
ah, but the denuded
trees bearing
bunches of flowers
at each stem
purple orange
white yellows
feasting eyes
through a veil
of watering eyes
colors spraying
perfume forced into
blocked nostrils
chilled winds
pouring dulcet
winter notes
into dumb ears
lungs fail to draw
full cycle of breath!
ah, winter
pleasantly chilling
ah, winter...!
aaachoooooooooooo!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Beautiful Fairy And The Fairy Dust Rain
Around this time of the year
The arrival of Spring is near
The arrival of Spring is almost here
And I'll happily be one with the spirits of nature
I'll completely embrace the magic of spring
As well as the wonder of nature
And the many other worldly pleasures
Around this time of the year
I await the fairy dust rain
Surrounded by trees and flowers
And many other things that are green
I await the arrival of the fairy dust rain
And many other sights of nature just waiting to be seen
A beautiful fairy flutters down from the sky
And lands down in front of me
She's almost as tall as me
We greet each other
And our hopes are the same
As we wait for the fairy dust rain
In the meantime
The beautiful fairy shows me her gifts of magic
And shares her knowledge with me as well
After periods of time have gone by
Fairy dust begins to rain down from the sky
The fairy dust rain has finally arrived
And we share the smiles and laughter
You ask me for a dance
And I don't hesitate to pass up this chance
We dance
Surrounded by flowers
Surrounded by trees
Surrounded by the fairy dust rain
After dancing
We look into each other's eyes
And then up to the skies
As the fairy dust rain continues to fall
Our eyes then return to each other
And we share a hug
You flutter your wings a little
Shaking off some of the fairy dust that's covered them
You tell me you're staying with me
At least for the time being right now
Little by little
We're being lightly covered in the fairy dust rain
Beautiful fairy
I must say that these moments we share
They're memorable and precious
You echo your feelings and sentiments to me as well
As the fairy dust rain continues to fill the air
Side by side
We stand together
Loving what's happening
But most importantly
We enjoy the sight of the fairy dust rain
poem by Justin Gildow
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Wilde Angel....Doc Wilde
Wilde Angel the sun that brightens my every day
Wilde Angel the brightest star that lights up my darkest night
Wilde Angel my divine super hero
Wilde Angel chases away the scary monsters from under my bed
Wilde Angel big soft cuddly teady bear
Wilde Angel with outstreched wings ready to break my every fall
Wilde Angel with invisible wings
Wings that lift my spirits
Make them soar high above the heavens
Wilde Angel you graced my life and made it worth living
You heard my thoughts my inner voice
The silent pain
The deafening silence
Wilde Angel your voice sings a lullaby to my heart
Sweeter than any chocolate kiss
Cradles my pain and rocks my world
Wilde Angel your heart brought forth and did lay before me a gift
A gift of friendship unconditional
Lily white and pure
Wilde Angel you wipe away the tears even before they fall
Turning them into pearls of wisdom
Wilde Angel......you are the answer to my every prayer
You are the love, the blind faith, the healing friend my strenght and my joy
You are Doc Wilde......Leila's very own Wilde Angel
Don't ever tuck away those wings Doc.......Love LeilaXXXX
Artificial Flowers
Artificial flowers to me are out of place.
You put them in your home
in a decorative vase.
They have no scent.
They look unreal
and collect too much dust.
Artificial flowers I suppose
are better than none.
But I'd rather have a petaled stem
even if it was just one.
A rose, a lily or violet
breathe like you and I.
Artificial flowers don't
even know how to die.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Wintery Day
The sun hidden in dark gray clouds Winter wears her shroud of gloom
But on the camellias and the magnolias the pink and white flowers bloom
And though the wind with a damp cold chill is blowing from north to south
Even in the depths of Winter Nature's beauty is about
The soft chirpings of the crimson rosellas so pleasant for to hear
Their notes do not seem to vary at any time of year
And the flute like notes of the magpie in the wooded hillside ring
In this their breeding Season at night his kind does sing
The harsh calls of the white sulphur crested cockatoos one never could mistake
One does often hear them in the wood at nightfall and daybreak
And the bubbling song of the grey butcherbird melodious and clear
Brings to the gloomy Winter's day the joy of Nature's cheer
The rain it falls in drizzles and the breeze has a cool chill
And the dampness of the Winter hangs around the wooded hill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Winter chill
Winter chill is here
It is getting near
All those christams days
Are different ways
Winter chill will soon go
Everyone is low
Its time to say goodbye
And make spirits high
Winter chill has finally gone, spring is near
When winter chill has gone everyone give a cheer
In spring its hot and sunny
I'll see you there chummy
poem by Hannah Law
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As Dew from Lily Pearls
AS DEW FROM LILY PEARLS
As dew from lily pea[r]ls away
Stretched time can’t rhyme eternity.
Desire whose fire may warm today
Ephemeris is seen to be.
We pass, time due, climb through life’s play,
Fall, fate forgotten, from life’s tree,
Remembered in leafed album stray,
Or – for a spell – where family
Must thrust dust, trust our writings may
Lift spirits from banality.
If ALL is in, through, ALL our stay
Lingers in some way to key
Youth, age, together, thus may mock despair,
PEARL Seed be[a]d-feed leads to new life, joy rare...
(c) Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 3 January 2007
robi03_1551_robi03_0000 ASX_KZX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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~ My Hidden Stem ~
I give you my rose, yet you see it so beautiful all around, the petals so blooming and so lovely, but look at the stem which is my stem, the green root of nevergazing attractivness, that which is hidden, that which is the real and genuine beauty, my nights of eternal desire lie within the stem, but you only see the outside beauty of the painted red petals, the power, the force, the passion, the fountain that spring forth the lifted rose, is found on my stem. For beauty can be easily found, but sheer beauty is not, and you must find me and travel as deep, as lenthly and beyond.
poem by Dandy leo jr.
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I aspire to be a flower! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Eagerly at dawn set out for brisk walk.
For cheerful angels await me in park.
A nip in breeze after last night’s showers.
Sneeze; unfold my sleeves, to brace for the hour.
Purple flowers are spread on muddy path.
We exchange greetings and smile as I pass.
I avoid puddles, careful, watch my step.
Do they feel pangs of separation from stem?
Passers by ask as I kneel to pick some.
“What do you do with them”? “Float in an urn;
Its hues light up my day and living room.
Each time I pass by and glance, we commune”.
In their silence hear message of Divine.
Frank, open, kind, calm, by no means fragile.
See, what is without is what is within.
Flowers simply teach art of self giving.
A close look at flower clock or calendar,
Rose, iris, Crocus, Lily or Lavender-
Trees, vines, shrubs, flower beds or grass,
You’ll sure find one when serene and calm.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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End of the Road
The end of the road appears so near.
The will to win is dim, ‘tis clear,
as is the understanding things
may not improve – although the swings
and roundabouts life brings may cheer
a mirage moment when thoughts drear
are veiled, seem worst past, when dream sings
away the fears, hears fair Chance rings
the changes one would see.
Beware dream days Chance seems to cheer, -
the nights that follow double fear.
Though welcome inklings flex fresh wings
these fail as token, - broken springs.
Though mind would find an end sincere
the mirror here no change of gear
discerns as date dire direr brings.
Fate, judge and jury, sharpens stings
while Time, deceitful, pulls Life’s strings
then buries memory.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Veil
I think and think: yet still I fail —
Why must this lady wear a veil?
Why thus elect to mask her face
Beneath that dainty web of lace?
The tip of a small nose I see,
And two red lips, set curiously
Like twin-born berries on one stem,
And yet, she has netted even them.
Her eyes, 'tis plain, survey with ease
Whate'er to glance upon they please.
Yet, whether hazel, gray, or blue,
Or that even lovelier lilac hue,
I cannot guess: why — why deny
Such beauty to the passer-by?
Out of a bush a nightingale
May expound his song; from 'neath that veil
A happy mouth no doubt can make
English sound sweeter for its sake.
But then, why muffle in like this
What every blossomy wind would kiss?
Why in that little night disguise
A daybreak face, those starry eyes?
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Page and Pageant
Page, pageant, dreams veil daily quail trail tale.
Advancing age culls w[r]inkled p[r]awns, the Gods
Gain one by one life's pieces till dank sods
Enwrap what, carefree once, aped beauty hale.
Another well earned ‘bust’! Who strong were, [f[r]]ail
Now lie forgotten for Time's ruthless odds
D[r]own [fl]out all memory. Man's born, his nods
Prevail threescore before [str]etched powers fail
As one more stem beneath the thresher's flail,
Gathered in, is merged with claymate clods.
Each eager starts the day, home weary plods
As night light swallows, chaff before the gale.
NIRVANA's spell is scuttled in VAIN RAN
Thief Time’s [d]ice reef brief grief leaf life of Man.
(10 June 1992 revised 18 October 2006/Poem © Jonathan ROBIN Acrostic sonnet – Page and Pageant)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Angel In Pink Converse
She flew right past me one day,
My eyes must have been blinded by her light,
For seconds later she was gone.
So she must have been an angel,
I fell in love with an angel in pink Converse.
Before I could stop and say ‘hello’,
She’d flown away,
And I could only remember the image of
The angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
If all angels were like she,
I would glad die to join them all,
But could they be more beautiful
Than the angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
Maybe, maybe,
Someday she’ll fly again my way,
And I would stop and talk for awhile,
To the angel in pink Converse,
My angel in pink Converse.
Perhaps they all wear Converse in Heaven?
©Charlie F. Kane
24/04/07
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Heartbeat Appreciation
When two souls key into each other's glance,
soft symphony, ensnaring, sudden glows,
pulse increases, haemoglobin flows,
hearts stamp vis[t]a vision blessed by Chance.
Focus may through role-reverse advance
respond to signals sent, scent seeming rose,
implicit waves the mind feels heart feels knows
drill, pheromones exchanged, strange tendril dance
above beyond bland handshake circumstance.
Response seeds no speech silver, no doors close,
no circumspection - two, twinned, juxtapose
their several levels, [th]read whole soul(s romance.
Heartbeat appreciation is returned -
deceit, repudiation, never earned.
(29 January 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Tale of the Wings
Admiration filled the air
When an angel saw its wings
She needs someone who'll care
Listening every time she sings
Opportunity comes with shyness
Believing the two are not separable
They've come to one with smiles
And flown together as they fall
Closeness almost shut the weak points
Until the breakage has come its way
Silence of suspiciousness changed the noise
And torn their hearts away
The wings are no more living
Yet the angel had gone leaving
It thought it can fly on its own
But no, not without the angel around
The angel is nowhere to be found
No mark of footsteps on the ground
No one knows if it flew on her own
Neither why she had left her wings alone
poem by Genesis Bernaldez
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Wrapped In Angel Arms
The Angel was waiting,
Time was so near.
Then without hesitating,
The Angel was clear,
Who had been chosen,
To make this journey.
For God's own reason,
The Angel could see.
So tiny, so special,
While they lay sleeping.
God sent His Angel,
For the final blessing.
Wrapped in Angel Arms,
Sheltered beneath their wings,
Far from earthly harms,
The Angel softly sings
Beginning their sacred journey,
To the Promised Land.
The Angel acted faithfully,
To God's each command.
poem by Jessica Orrillo
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Song Of January!
January sings again for me
and for a year dead gone
on the wheels
of a northern curse.
January sings,
sings again for me
and for autumn flowers
January 30, 2010
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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Cupid And Swallows Flying From Winter. By Dagley
'We fly from the cold.'
AWAY , away, o'er land and sea,
This is now no home for me;
My light wings may never bear
Northern cloud or winter air.
Murky shades are gathering fast,
Sleet and snow are on the blast,
Trees from which the leaves are fled,
Flowers whose very roots are dead,
Grass of its green blade bereft,
These are all that now are left.
--Linger here another day,
I shall be as sad as they;
My companions fly with spring,
I too must be on the wing.
Where are the sweet gales whose song
Wont to waft my darts along?
Scented airs! oh, not like these,
Rough as they which sweep the seas;
But those sighs of rose which bring
Incense from their wandering.
Where are the bright flowers that kept
Guard around me while I slept?
Where the sunny eyes whose beams
Waken'd me from my soft dreams?--
These are with the swallows gone,--
Beauty's heart is chill'd to stone.
Oh! for some sweet southern clime,
Where 'tis ever summer time,--
Where, if blossoms fall, their tomb
Is amid new birth of bloom,--
Where green leaves are ever springing,
Where the lark is always singing,--
One of those bright isles which lie
Fair beneath an azure sky,
Isles of cinnamon and spice,
Shadow each of Paradise,--
Where the flowers shine with dyes,
Tinted bright from the sun-rise,--
Where the birds which drink their dew,
Wave wings of yet brighter hue,
And each river's course is roll'd
Over bed of pearl and gold!
Oh! for those lime-scented groves
Where the Spanish lover roves,
Tuning to the western star,
His soft song and light guitar,--
Where the dark hair'd girls are dancing,
Fairies in the moonlight glancing,
With pencill'd brows, and radiant eyes,
Like their planet-lighted skies!
Or those clear Italian lakes
Where the silver cygnet makes
Its soft nest of leaf and flower,
A white lily for its bower!
Each of these a home would be,
Fit for beauty and for me:
I must seek their happier sphere
While the Winter lords it here.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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