Stitch in Time Out - 209
Strange seems the search of maids for mates
when common cause from friends forms foe
replacing with estrangement, hates,
what once seemed blessed above, below.
Familiarity dissipates
romance, contempt breeds, lines won't toe.
Distance links lonely souls who so
imagine they anticipate
complicity which bliss could sow
once twinned together. Yet the wait
itself can contribute to grow
that rancid turns when when what seemed glow
afar fools' gold's found far too late.
Where ignorance seems bliss, minds sow
en empathy that knows no date.
Fête alters after altar's fait
accompli bares the rotten row
of base betrayal where two skate
on thin ice, gleaning harvest fallow,
can't compromise or clear the slate.
Life's tidal streams so swiftly flow
too few can truly contemplate
cross currents which combine to throw
Time's hands towards predestined Fate.
Is distance space defined as though
smiles miles may somehow compensate
when common cause, innate laws glow,
when minds find matter dissipates,
until 'reality's' undertow
waves goodbye when two create
a fantasy of belle and beau
that swiftly may evaporate
when faced with fact as fiction's dough
can't rise to ope occasion's gate.
Few feel for Truth, few care to know
what dream themes teem past Peter's gate,
Death's sting rings changes and although
the "moving finger's" never late,
most try to thwart sharp sword of fate,
hesitate, hot, cold, oft blow,
too often kill what they create,
as, blind eye turned, they backwards g[r]ow.
Lost, tempest tossed, in lovelorn limbo,
most time together, separate,
the lies they live on earth below
their progeny perpetuate.
While lonely, counting cost, they sow
the seeds of frontiers which frustrate
their need to weed out embargoes
which sundry woes accumulate.
Cocooned from change, most answer 'no! '
when new horizons captivate,
their god remains the status quo
whenever storm-clouds congregate.
When mass consumption's fiasco,
when brainless crowds gesticulate,
then hollow men spend life scarecrow,
obedience offers dinner plate.
‘Reflection' draws ignored echo
confined, when blind repudiate
heart's hopes, locked in, chart sin where no
enlightenment may penetrate.
Thick skins shared sentiments scarce show,
refusing to negociate
new challenges in embryo,
are doomed, tombed, in their muck stagnate.
They focalize on quid pro quo
where give to take cold calculate,
hold solitary state, kowtow,
potential incarcerate.
Ignore therefore the vertigo
of careless crowds to concentrate
upon responsive dynamo
to harness energies innate.
Avoid peer pressure, biased state,
narrow schemes which strangulate,
prepare tomorrow's merry go
round life's deep secrets penetrate.
Avoid time-traps that domino,
impenitent advance! World's weight
grounds wings which long to overthrow
travesties life imitate.
Should Reason join with Love's soft glow,
anxieties emancipate,
Man limitations may outgrow,
fulfilled, from false fears liberate.
(6 March 2011)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
They Time Together - 0209
Life's tidal streams so swiftly flow
too few can truly contemplate
cross currents which combine to throw
Time's hands towards predestined Fate.
Few feel for Truth, few care to know
what dream themes teem past Peter's gate,
Death's sting rings changes and although
the "moving finger's" never late,
most try to thwart sharp 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, tempest tossed, in lovelorn limbo,
most time together, separate,
the lies they live on earth below
their progeny perpetuate.
While lonely, counting cost, they sow
the seeds of frontiers which frustrate
their need to weed out embargos
which sundry woes accumulate.
Cocooned from change, most answer 'no! '
when new horizons captivate,
their god remains the status quo
whenever storm-clouds congregate.
When mass consumption's fiasco,
when brainless crowds gesticulate,
then hollow men spend life scarecrow,
obedience offers dinner plate.
‘Reflection' draws ignored echo
confined, when blind repudiate
heart's hopes, locked in, chart sin where no
enlightenment may penetrate.
Thick skins shared sentiments scarce show,
refusing to negociate
new challenges in embryo,
are doomed, tombed, in their muck stagnate.
They focalize on quid_pro quo
where give to take cold calculate,
hold solitary state, kowtow,
potential incarcerate.
Ignore therefore the vertigo
of careless crowds to concentrate
upon responsive dynamo
to harness energies innate.
Avoid peer pressure, biased state,
narrow schemes which strangulate,
prepare tomorrow's merry go
round life's deep secrets penetrate.
Avoid time-traps that domino,
impenitent advance! World's weight
grounds wings which long to overthrow
travesties life imitate.
Should Reason join with Love's soft glow,
anxieties emancipate,
Man limitations may outgrow,
fulfilled, from false fears liberate.
(20 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Together A...gain
TOGETHER A...GAIN
Be not severe, steer Chance towards dance scheme,
as harsh March veers to sothing June, cleanse slate,
Contemplate completion, name the date
open source parched hearts may soothe on stream.
Weigh way together where both share joy’s dream
withdraw poor stumbling blocks, steps separate
bereaving, grieving, signing single state,
two castaways from land of might-have-been
Cyphers on life’s screen two deemed supreme
coded blue skies – time flies – is it too late?
Apart, no partial thoughts can compensate –
Or fill a void where one avoids hopes teamed.
Enchantment may be spelled, as well this theme
should show could chance flow true, anticipate
return to starting blocks, unlocked love’s gate, -
empathy enhancing shared esteem.
No parting need there be – together streamed
minds twine together, twin, win/win, create
a fresh forever. Why precipitate
judgements hasty, waste when over-steamed?
For sake of christmas-yet-to-come redeem
the sentiments in pawn – new dawn may fête
renewal’s jewel not fuel cruel debate.
Fond friend, in answer I await hope’s beam.
21 March 2005
robi03_1098_robi03_0000 XXX_KLX
Together A…gain poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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How Deep Is Your Love?
Superficial, or sacrificial?
Secular, or the supernatural?
How deep is your love?
Would you give up quality of life?
Or give up life itself?
To what do we let go?
To what do we hold on?
People or objects?
How far do we go,
Before we move on?
To our breaking point,
Or until we have proven it.
Hold on to resentment,
Let go of another.
Prove our point, or to prove love.
Beauty is only skin deep.
But beautiful is at the core.
The spirit lives forever.
It endures all.
Our essence, our core, is love itself.
Given by God, as He lives inside of us.
He is buried deep,
Surrounded by lies.
Lies we have bought in a cold cruel world.
A world of shallow love.
Love of self, at the cost of another.
She walked away,
He waited.
She asked, "Why when you had me you did not want me, "
"But now I am gone, and you will fight? "
"You have changed, but it is too late."
"For I have found another."
The man replied, "The answer is simple."
"Why is it, you have me now and do not want me? "
"I have proven the truth of my love."
"I have endured a thousand deaths."
"I have risen each time."
"To become love itself."
"Not for me, but for you."
"Affection is shown, but love is assumed."
"To the superficial, love is all show."
"To the sacrificial, love is the show."
"I can tell you I love you,
"But the words have no substance."
"They disappear in thin air."
"Love is patient."
"Love as a feeling, will come and go."
"Feelings are impatient."
"It is truth that never changes."
"And love, that is true, will endure all."
"As it has since the beginning of time."
"Not as defined by society."
"But as defined by the creator and sustainer."
"It is only once the feelings have broken the heart, the holder of the feelings."
"That the beholder is freed."
"To show the love that will never be broken."
"Love that is true."
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Log Blog
Seasons hot and cold conspire
together to perpetuate
a fire ice cycle whose attire
in trice turns bark to dark ash - fait
accompli by Dame Nature's lyre
whose runes tune life, strange change dictate.
No paradox. In town and shire
from dream of steam to solid state
all stays the same, though minds require
the wherewithal to integrate
four elements linked by fey wire
whose strange range can incorporate
life's fractal fantasy entire.
Sodden logs around the fire
soldier like await grate fate,
ramrod stiff and hourly drier,
fiery end anticipate.
Trees which bore for man's desire
timely fruit of goodly weight
are sawn stacked staves on suttee pyre
condemned to ash, rash fate berate,
cackle together, crackle choir.
What once bore blossom's stumpy gate.
In stead see hedgerows trim require
incessant training. Speculate
on human vanity, the sire
of most misfortune early, late.
Dust to dust both lust, desire,
first gust then rust disintegrate.
Men burn, but seldom calculate
their pulse iced, fated to expire,
past wealth their heirs swift dissipate,
their envy, anxiousness, and ire
all self consuming! Man and mate
earn little praise, soon merge with mire,
while in a circle congregate
wood logs around a winter fire.
Who seeks for answers must inquire
within, take time to contemplate
conundrum woven - truth and liar,
hot cold, earth air, fire ice restate
real dream reel, skip trip. Seller, buyer
are twins identical whose weight
depends on introspective gyre
like tree bark witness of Time's wait
on Time to circumnavigate
the contradictory crossfire
of surface assumptions which create
their own momentum, karmic tyre
around impressions which abate
as atoms realign. Ice, fire
reflect extremes intemperate.
Reality and dreams combine, their quest -
through Time condensing from initial jest -
is thus to banish contradictions, span
creation vast, past, present, big bang's van
till request and inquest converge in gest
arresting surface difference with zest
from tao trip evolution's also-ran
to space displacement through one thousandth dan
Atoms avoid void, spin tails till trail's lost, rest
here contest, contestants, distance, uber plan,
From mess congestive to suggestive test
of chaos, universal fractal fest
patterns pitter patter, matter must
invent itself from, to, through, into dust.
Logs
Sodden logs around the fire
soldier like await their fate,
ramrod stiff and hourly drier,
fiery end anticipate.
Trees which bore for man's desire
timely fruit of goodly weight
are now sawn logs upon the pyre
condemned to ashes in the grate,
crackle together as a choir.
Where once they blossomed, now a gate
and hedgerow trim tending require, -
incessant training, - speculate
on human vanity, the sire
of most misfortune, soon or late.
Dust to dust both lust, desire,
must gust to dust, disintegrate.
Men burn, but seldom calculate
their time soon fated to expire,
their wealth they tend to dissipate,
their envy, anxiousness, and ire
all self consuming! Man and mate
earn little praise, soon merge with mire,
while in a circle congregate
wood logs around a winter fire.
(12 January 1993 revised 27 December 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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In Gestation - For You I Wait
For you I wait
On Nature’s way,
Run round night, day,
Yet stand on fate.
One month too late
Unseen from play
I'll slip away
Won't stand on state -
At golden gate
In Peter's plate,
To time a prey.
I’ll wile away
Now while you wait -
Growth rapid, great.
Each cell array
Strings D.N.A.
To duplicate.
Amalgamate
The smiles that sway
In interplay
Our joys, our fête,
New meeting's date!
Gesticulate
Explains brain's way
Says much of rate
The changes weigh
In, conjugate
Conflict, delay,
Until debate
Lifts cares away
As questions skate
To answers sway.
Ideas, sung, may
Now percolate,
Gain strength, relay
Its not too late!
Now heed display
Anticipate
Smiles in a spate
Open truth's ray
None ever may
Gainsay or grate,
To populate
Our every day
Divinely gay.
As we relate,
Yes, gest states jest... guess I just ate!
© Jonathan Robin – acrostic For You I Wait In Gestation Gesticulating In A Song Today
written 26 March 2005 modified 12 April 2008
For you I wait
On Nature’s way,
Run round night, day,
Yet stand on fate.
One month too late
Unseen from play
I slip away
Won't stand on state -
At golden gate
To time a prey.
I’ll wile away
Now while you wait -
Growth rapid great
Each cell array
Sets D.N.A.
To duplicate.
Anticipate
The smiles that sway
In interplay
Our joys, our fête,
New meeting's date!
If this song may
Lift cares away
Let percolate
Smiles in a spate
Intense, a ray
None ever may
Gainsay or grate, -
To populate
Our every day
Divinely gay.
As we relate,
Yes, I gest state jest guess just ate!
26 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Not too hollow
A promise not too hollow
Relation to grow and allow
No restriction of any kind
As can be seen even by blind
Love is divine gift
It finds no way or shift
It just takes place
There is glow on face
Love is for loving and not leaving
It is for the joy and pain relieving
No matter how much hurdle you face
Nothing should separate us in any case
It is holier than holy to keep the relation
It can find any suitable equation
It is same in hope and despair
One broken can not be repaired
It may find long wait
But can’t be sealed by fate
Let the spring come very late
When flowers zoom I will openly dance and state
I live for tomorrow
Today I may have to lye low
There is high hope for lovely future
I am confident and very much sure
I am very much optimistic
The same position can not remain static
It has to go away for holy reasons
The joy is to be shared by two persons
Hold in arms wherever you go
The wind may also help and blow
As rive has calm and natural flow
Face may might up and find beautiful glow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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(V – 1988) Fighting Fate
Oh, things out of control we call real fate
For factors far unknown too decide our state!
But things there are we must not see as mere fate;
Such things if controlled can oh, alter our state!
No thunder or tyrant is ever such fate
If faced with courage and soon held to checkmate!
Oh, thou art the architect of thy own fate!
So fight well with will and thus safeguard thy state!
At times we may fall to some strange, cruel fate;
By them should never our will still abate!
With arrows of resolve and faith, fight thy fate!
Oh, give no space ever to stand or to wait!
So bow not or falter before any fate;
Oh, fear and despair will thy fate aggravate!
Grim panic and anguish will strengthen our fate;
They make us, oh, lick a time unduly late!
So well in advance to, oh, face any fate
Thou equip thyself and thus secure thy state!
Challenges of life are challenges of fate –
So meeting them well, oh, means living life great!
Train To Heaven
(4/10/12)
It was a long wait - but soon they would
Be at that gate.
The train that would take him to heaven
To join all his family and friends
Where a new life would begin and never end.
A life where there is nothing but beauty and peace
And the heart would find relief.
The conductor showing you everything in your past life
Some bad - a lot nice.
Of people you touched along the way
And of things they had to say.
everybody when they pass away
Boards this train on a given day.
This train makes three stops
As strange as it may seem
Heaven, hell, and purgatory
"Sounds like a familiar story"!
Purgatory being the place of things
In your past life - you must face.
But you are on the "7th ave. express."
Cause you passed all the tests.
You had a heart which was pure as gold
And all the angels have been told.
All these other passengers that are on this train with you
Have gone through the same things too.
All of you had came to this "times square station"
Because you had found your salvation.
They gathered together like fallen needles from a pine tree
Multitudes of souls that were finally free.
At the gate you will be greeted by SAINT PETER
Who will show you the way to all your family and friends
And this joy will never end.
poem by Louis Rams
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Nothing is Impossible
N othing is Impossible where heart
O pens out to heart when, far apart,
T wo minds touch tendrils, tender feelings flow
H ope effervesces, empathy may glow
I n scope communicating common start,
N ew adventure no known maps may chart.
G reat expectations may be met, and so
I f screens can disappear, fresh breezes blow
S omething precious shall the applecart
I nside upset. Simplicity, not art,
M ay then emotions foster, help to grow.
P erhaps the role ‘chance’ plays in life, may show
O bstacles to be the counterpart
S ecret of opportunities in part
S et back from sight, from what the mind needs know.
I nsight alone lets light from darkness sow
B etween the life-lines seeds love can impart.
L et twinned souls travel to those realms Descartes
E ncountered not through ‘logic pure’... Think Heart!
29 August 1996 revision date uncertain before 2000
robi03_0823_robi03_0000 AXX_LXX
for previous version see below
Nothing is Impossible!
Life offers opportunities to rise
Above the hum and drum of everyday,
Discarding empty arguments to play
A role that true intelligence supplies.
Know by intelligence one means the cries
Only the heart can feel and share, display
Love’s echo in a magic interplay,
And new tomorrows free from former ties.
Remember as you read these lines that skies
Of blue will chase all worries, cares, away,
Vanquishing uncertainties, dark, grey.
At last through hope for scope see new dawn rise!
Let light and laughter link, from false fears free,
Know nothing is impossible for thee!
22 August 1996
acrostic Poem © Jonathan Robin – Nothing is Impossible
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Train of fate
I see life passing by
On this train that I ride
All the people I sit beside
What is it that they hide?
How do I communicate?
On this train that`s running late
Often times tempting fate
Looking at my watch checking the date
In a world with so much hate
I listen to a heated debate
Like a fish hooked on the bait
On a train where I sit and wait
My emotions locked behind a gate
My heart beating at such a fast rate
Yet my mind very sedate
Thinking of a better world I wish to create
Where all the people are feeling great
Where love, hope and joy are the motto of state
But i`m stuck on a train running late
Pondering whether I should temp fate
And find the key that unlocks the gate
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Love that binds not
Just for you would I wait while the weight
of the waiting brings home that our fate
must henceforth intertwine,
so the good that is mine
may forever be thine, while the date
of our meeting will stay in our minds
bringing tenderness, joy as each finds
in each other a light
firm and fixed, ever bright,
love that blinds not as never it binds!
You inspire poet’s fire and the rate
of the keys which words seize early, late
rhyme and reason combine
heart and spirit, refine
bliss eurphoric - to ever elate.
Adoration osmosis, a state
by your side, - be my bride, - won’t abate,
motives pure, underlined,
Time defy, heal the blind, -
Heaven sent, sweet, these sentiments sate …
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pick, Choose, And Refuse
Pick, Choose, And Refuse
Written by: Wilfred Mellers Monday, September 6,2010 @ 12: 18 PM
They hate, debate, castrate, and then try to eliminate you
They dictate, humiliate, and try to penetrate you
They calculate, deliberate, delegate, and then frustrate you
They congregate, close the gate, and keep you off the great estate
They agitate, commensurate, hesitate, and deflate any of your achievements
They get high-rate, never letting you participate, and make you wait for an update
They truncate, terminate, and vacate the workplace
They narrate then locate a mandate that they notate for the people
Prices inflate with the excitement they create
On you they fixate and their words they filtrate
They want to make you an inmate or see you lay instate
They want to see you not participate so they convince you not to graduate
They hydrate while the disease planted will mutate and migrate
Bees no longer germinate, embryos no longer gestate, and we all become dead-weight
Wars they instigate to control the birthrate
Death and destruction was their classmates
Poison was the feast they ate
Eyes dilate as billions they donate to those who already have too much
The economy procrastinates and madness for goodness they equate
We tolerate as the world vibrates to the insanity these primates concentrate on
Redemption for mankind no longer waits
Rain-checks we except for our rebates
Ourselves we segregate for the truth we can’t separate
Words need not to translate for ourselves we are going to obliterate
The truth is never straight and the constitution they violate
Backwards the clocks rotate for their toilet’s they gold plate
Destroy to clean the slate as wars comes to a deadly stalemate
Recognition comes too late for the masses they didn’t hesitate to sedate
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Initial Impressions - 0160
Initial impressions of Anne: a portrait
here follows, as of that short trip I relate
in amateur adjectives alliterate,
as ever, in jest, the events I narrate.
'Rise six, arrive seven, I mustn't be late,
my meetings eleven, thereon turns my fate.
I mean to be early, I'm sure they won't wait;
rush, hurry to Roissy, take off is at eight!
At first all goes smoothly, check-in at the gate,
with only a briefcase, no baggage nor weight,
on tapis he passed me, has he too a date?
We're sitting apart while to board we await.
The minutes seem seconds while I concentrate
upon my good fortune and evaluate
alternate employment. The chances seem great
in corporate finance, no more to stagnate.
But minutes and seconds soon accumulate,
and others around us complain, remonstrate;
the plane is delayed, which my plans may frustrate.
I'm bored, chat while waiting, inside fulminate!
For nine-o'clock ticks while no immediate
signs of flight departure as yet emanate
from Air France, 'London's fog bound' so surly they state:
irate travellers round the desk congregate.
Then sounds of activity near indicate
an aircraft is ready, its engines vibrate,
quick, over to B.A., with inquiring gait
I fly, and he follows, to investigate.
Just four total strangers do not hesitate,
adroitly are able to anticipate
the Trident's departure, and seats relocate.
the others remain, though with rage radiate.
Ere onto the runway we accelerate,
we glance at each other, begin to relate.
I, Lady from Lanvin, groomed immaculate;
while he, what can he be, so weary, barbate?
I, Lady from Lanvin, groomed immaculate,
stylish exterior, career orientate,
yet deep down within me, a fleur feminate
seeks an exit to 'be', both to blossom, create!
There's a gemmed golden clover, conceived chez Chaumet
adorning my finger so fair, annulate,
do not be deceived though, those tips roseate
have also known sorrow, and sadness I hate!
As sedate expressions oft dissimulate
unease, insecurity, I isolate
the sentiment somehow that I'm second rate
by progress in business, false fears compensate.
Ahead in my field, I the rest dominate,
create, affiliate, then amalgamate,
expansion advocate then conglomerate:
this surely must prove I'm not inadequate.
Pieds sur terre, in the air, we do debate.
Merchant Banks' merits, that most denigrate.
He offers the option to collaborate
in equity placing, a job which does bate!
Soon 'please fasten seat-belt' signs flash luminate,
as through dew-decked clouds we dive, decelerate.
Earth rises to greet us, we've landed, brakes grate.
then tired Trident taxis to terminal gate.
Quickly through Customs to where ranked cabbies wait
then speeding past Palace towards Bishopsgate.
Through noon's terrible traffic jam we navigate,
At Cheapside we part, leaving me to my fate.'
(24 September 1978)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Last Sundowner
He sat upon a fallen log
And heaved a long, deep sigh.
His gnarled hand fondling his old dog
As his gaze went to the sky.
"There goes another pane," said he
"A soarin', roarin' pest!
They robs a man of privacy,
An' motor cars of rest."
"Sundownin' ain't the game ut was
Since men have took to wings;
An' life grows narrer, jist because
Of plans an' cars an' things.
For the planes have pinched me privit skies
An' the cars have grabbed me earth
An' all the news by wireless flies;
So what's sundownin' worth?
"Time was when I could sit me down
Where man had left no sign,
An' earth an' sky for miles aroun'
For that one hour was mine.
And I could sit an' think me thorts
An' watch the sun go west
Without no crazy ingine's snorts
To break into me rest.
"And as the afternoon grew late
I'd seek the haunts of men,
An' at some lonely homestead gate
I'd have sure welcome then;
An' tucker-bags were gladly filled,
And rest found for my back,
In ‘change for bits of news I spilled
And gossip of the track.
"But now that wireless spreads its lies
From this and other lands,
They look on me with hard, cold eyes
An' give with grudgin' hands.
It's them that has to give me news;
And when I seek some wide,
Once silent scene, planes spoil me views,
An' cars honk me aside."
He sat upon a fallen log
And heaved a long, deep sigh:
"We're agein', me an' my ole dog,
An' old things have to die.
Sundownin's dead; men's minds an' ways
Is changin' with a jerk.
Seems like I'll have to end me days,
Travellin'; in search of work."
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Late
Too late the prize is drawn, the goal attained.
Too late, too late, our heart's desire is gained.
Wealth's use is past; Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached — the end of toil and strife —
The end of life.
Love flowers and fades like grass, and flowers again,
And strong young hearts spend all their strength in vain.
The fiery passions burn out, one by one,
And then, too late, when our best days are done,
Spirit and body find their perfect mate —
Too late, too late!
Long sought, long seeking, through the lonely years,
We meet at last to weep our useless tears
For time and chance irrevocably flown,
For dreams outlived and fervent hopes outgrown,
For babes unborn, for myriad joys unseen,
That might have been.
Too late, too late! And yet the priceless boon
Might ne'er have come to bless us, late or soon;
And only comes, like Holy Grail, to those
Made wise and pure by bitter needs and woes.
We learn the worth of life when life is o'er,
And not before.
Not for the spring and morning time of youth
The perfect flower of slow- unfolding truth —
The perfect love, deep, passionate, and strong,
That comes of wanting much and waiting long.
This glorious fire is of the setting sun
When day is done.
This harvest wealth, this crowning gift of fate,
This fruit of suffering years, must aye come late;
And only seeking spirit and ripe mind —
Only a few — the matchless treasure find,
And find, despite all time and chances lost,
'Twas worth the cost.
Ah me! To stand upon this height at last,
Ere eyes are dim or daylight overpast;
To see one aim achieved, one dream fulfilled,
Ere striving brain and hoping heart are stilled;
To know that we have borne a lifelong pain
Not all in vain!
O, not too late, if once we reach the goal —
If once we satisfy this hungry soul —
If only for a year, a day, an hour,
We drink our fill of life's true bliss and power.
If we but touch that point, we conquer fate
Not quite too late!
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Polyacrostic - Changes Expand Beginnings
Vision clears, we’re somehow made aware
A new age dawns as instincts stimulate
Longings that at last hopes liberate.
Underlying focus everywhere
Energizes inner light, to share
Tenderness, emotions, to create
Harmony which may anticipate
Evolution understanding where,
Time time defies. Change may initiate
Insight, vision new, expands to date
Mark end of beginnings, - secondary state -
Extending former frontiers to prepare
Opportunities for future fair.
None need look back, let Fate precipitate
Events, as metamorphosis Hope's gate
Appears to open, expedition rare.
Refuse facility, temptations, free
THe self for new dimensions, - learn to be...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two at last Twin Win
Time's sickle hooked life's fickle flow
While trickle seeped through lonely plain
Of trials and tribulations, wane
As climate change unrhymed with glow.
The season's reasons we'd not know
Lovelorn lingering, hope's pane
Alas tight locked - block clocked sharp pain.
Seminal happiness remained 'no show'.
Then, unforeseen, see cupid's bow
Tired vertigo's free-fall refrain
With soaring soul replace! Again
Is life transformed, may undergo
New metamorphosis to find
WIN/win exchange, scales fall from blind!
(c) Jonathan Robin - robi3_1744_robi3_0000 ASX_LZX 14 May 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Glow
Morning glow morning glow
Starts to glimmer when you know
Winds of change are set to blow
And sweep this whole land through
Morning glow is long past due
Morning glow fill the earth
Come on shine far all youre worth
Well be present at the birth
Of all faith looking new
Morning glow is long past due
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
You should have started long ago
Morning glow all days long
For we sing tomorrows song
Never knew we could be so strong
But now its very clear
Morning glow is almost here
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
We should have started long ago
Morning glow all your life
We can make the new day right
All the bad songs of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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