Someone’s Daughter
Her mouth is coarse, her lipstick vulgar,
pearl glasses wide as any saucer,
her dress is dark as nakèd night,
her hair is in a sorry plight! -
Enough! - she too’s life’s brick and mortar,
and, flesh for flesh, is someone’s daughter.
© Jonathan Robin 15 January 1969
Someone's Daughter_19690115_Her mouth is coarse ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0001_robi3_0000 XXX_MXX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hell
Hell
Hell is where
flower fair
is pictured
in pitcher
rather
than in the
arms of our
Earth mother.
Finer
free from fear
© Jonathan Robin 4 January 1970
Hell_19700104_Hell is where flower fair ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0002_robi3_0000 XXX_MXX
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0002_robi3_0000 XXX_MXX Hell_Hell is where flower fair
poem by Jonathan Robin
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What Is, Was
WHAT IS, WAS
What is, was, what was, will be, -
The wheel turns while Time cheats
Those who'd cheat time.
5 September 1998
What is Was_19980911_What is, was, what was, will be ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi03_0886_robi03_0000 XXX_CJZ
Poem What Is, Was © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Retrospective of an Honest Man - after Clark Stillman
RETROSPECTIVE OF AN HONEST MAN
By night: fight, flight
quite out of sight.
By day: mayday
in way on site,
blight; bite, spite, slight.
Payday: heyday
way O.K. … right?
Tight, slight respite.
6 January 2010
Parody Clark STILLMAN 1905_1995 Autobiography of an honest man
6 January 2010
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi03_1945_stil01_0001 PWX_JLX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN HONEST MAN
During the night
I was out of sight;
During the day
I was in the way.
STILLMAN Clark 1905_1995
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllll
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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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Conception of Contraception
Had I been taught the facts of life
before I met my charming wife,
it seems unlikely most to me
we’d see in two years babies three.
© Jonathan Robin 23 July 1974 robi3_0010_robi3_0000 19740723
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Threescore years and Ten
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Suspendancy
Suspendancy
Pendant pictures often hang askew
as if, personnified, they knew
most artists’ channelled tunnel view
is t[a]inted travesty seen through
perspectives missing rendez-vous
currrent observers’ key into.
Art is becoming ambigu,
bears tenuous relation to
contemporary contexts – true
and false corkscrew as red, green, blue,
suffice no longer, out of cue
compared to wave-length capture new
afforded by enhanced retinal cones
to ultra-violet spectrum sensor zones
22 April 1978 revised 11 March 2009 robi3_0154_robi3_0000
previously entitled Painted Pictures for previous version see below
Suspendancy_19780422_Pendant pictures often hang askew ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0154_robi3_0000 SXX_MXX
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0154_robi3_0000 SXX_MXX Suspendancy_Pendant pictures often hang askew
Painted Pictures
Painted pictures, pendant, all-askew: -
as if their absent owners somehow knew
that every artist’s airy-fairy view
is but a t[a]inted travesty! - Untrue?
22 April 1978
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Coquette
Girl, oh girl,
I can see you
in the wintry morning
as you go out
hurrying
with the copper bracelets’ sound
your hair surmounts your tiny head,
your hair,
coarse like horse’s mane
black hairs cutting the air
as you look in the mirror
for the last time
before you lе а ve.
Girl, I can see you
with the lipstick,
idolizing your mouth,
full shiny mouth,
your high heels tempt the stairs
as you descend,
Girl, I know you,
your plain body, tiny legs, slim,
trembling
with the muscles of your arms
as you lock the door;
What have you done
and they don’t know?
Your curly red hair from the youth
you’ve straightened it smooth
and dyed black,
Girl, does your body hurt when nude?
What have you done?
I could never see
your plasticine drops flow,
why did you go to the wolfs
when night fell:
teary drops tear the flesh
your tiny breasts
were mesmerized
with the green amulet
swinging
from one breast to other
we see each other strangely;
How queer,
I can see you in the night
girl you crawl, the saffron shawl
slithers your body as your stomach
swells with pain
“To hell with the wolfs“
and in the room of old wolf
always reeks malodorous.
Girl I can see you
bending,
your knees rubbing the floor
your coarse palms
sending the bulletins of shame
to be published,
hush girl, I can see
your blackened and regretful
running down your toes: tears.
I can see you go
as someone locks the door
from where you went in the night
I can see you howling,
green with forest coldness
green were your eyes
reddened with plasticine
and you, what were you?
Why girl you are,
in the wintry night
as you come back home,
just another
plasticine doll.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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Foreclosure
Fleeting complicity
meeting adversity
depleting prosperity
deleting electricity.
Defeating rime
completing rhyme:
anthropocentricity.
© Jonathan Robin 21 September 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dis Solution Dissipation
Weighted with darkness of impending doom
each waits alone, alike to friend and foe
as deaf as stone, as heedless of each blow.
Who cares what curtains drape eternal gloom?
No will, however strong, when death will loom,
pride vaunts oblivious to oblivion's slow
approaching icy grip from tip to toe -
as though dissolving essence could make room
for Hope at Act’s end. Wormcast catacomb,
Life’s dust dispersal tomb rehearsal show
is headlong blown along Time’s one way flow,
tomorrow naught can conjure from Past's womb.
From darkness stark may flesh fresh flake again,
unfettered spark, from wake wake, cry_oh_gain! ?
© Jonathan Robin – sonnet robi3_0612 written 17 January 2001 revised 11 April 2008
previous title - Into Dust Dissolve
cry_oh_gain... cryogen
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pevolution
Pathways towards parthenogenesis
though today’s Science Fiction may seem,
tomorrow shall channel - no pen*s is
indispen[i]sable, that’s a pipe dream!
© Jonathan Robin 23 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Surf..fing
Should quantum froth be found to correspond
to energy renewable released
my man-maid magma sloughing off despond,
survival of the fittest's moving feast
would surge out from its sub primeval pond
through urge to merge on higher planes till, ceased,
time's tide: round robin's ride beyond beyond...
[c] Jonathan Robin written 16 June 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Principles of Wisdom and Wisdom of Principles
Life links experience in skeins to solve
its crucial questions before we dissolve.
Weave principles round wisdom from within
as asset principal, discarding sin.
If cause/effect equations can evolve,
through equity verse, chapter, must begin.
(c) Jonathan Robin written 22 April 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hot Air - Parody Witter Bynner Spectra
Just deserted after make-up refuselled,
I, who would have snoozled, hereafter
lose laughter, appear a foozle cahoozled,
as daft as a woozle or even dafter.
The hamstrung string is bamboozled,
snaking like a hung verdict noose loose from the rafters, -
when will the West wind flow less confuselled
blowing our just desserts as afters?
© Jonathan Robin – Parody author unknown possibly Witter Bynner written 3 January 1992 revised 8 October 2006 previous title Winds
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Stringing A long and short of it
Skelton
dealt on
terse taut
verse taught
strung list
tongue twist
fast rhyme
last time
[th]ink sends
wink ends
[c] Jonathan Robin 8 skeltonics written 8 June 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Even in Sleep
Even in sleep she seeks his finger
as if, nursing its tumescence within the palm of her hand,
she could extend the intimacy of intimacy...
© Jonathan Robin – written 10 April 2001
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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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The Sex Confessions
The Bed
Your Mouth
My Touch
Our Lips
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecr ated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
The Flame
Your Cries
My Salt
Our Wounds
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
The Earth
Your Rain
My Seed
Our Life
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
Hell
Regrets
Confessions
Of Love
Your Love
My Love
Our Love
Love
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
poem by Catman Cohen
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Eleven
ELEVEN
Eleven, eleven, eleven years old,
intrepid, courageous, becomingly bold,
awaiting the whistle to aim at the goal,
youth victory snatches to go for the gold.
Eleven in yellow, eleven in blue,
first warm up, then face out, they know what to do,
team practice their axis extended, each soul
feels ready, steels steady, heart heady, on cue.
Eleven enthusiasts, courage extolled,
engage without rage on the field that has told
long tales of hopes met or defeats swallowed whole,
on one ball all focus as onwards its rolled.
Eleven, eleven, well matched, tackle through,
a game which enflames passions partisan, true,
team work all important as each knows the role
to play so the day stays as record all view
Rupert Kensho Robin Le Saux written Chateaugiron 23 October 2006
robi03_1457_robi03_0000 XXX_MXX
Eleven poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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