Stitches in Time
STITCHES IN TIME
Some skins shed, stray, when Fortune spins flawed dice,
One moment white they pray, the next play black,
May here run hot, cold there, protect p[l]ayback
Expected to reward their wayward vice.
They one day feel real cause for ‘yea’ concise,
Heart lost then costs may chart, ‘nay’ reason, - lack
Intrinsic worth, commitment, cards they stack,
Now twinge, now cringe, unmanned in land of mice.
Grows [s]he who glows true faith, to Paradise
IS constant, caring, bearings keeps on track,
ROws through Fate’s flows, knows never cul-de-sac,
Tries, wise, to seed, weeds out, flouts bad advice?
Temptations easy lead to queasy ride,
ENduring strength most fickle fools deride.
20 July 2000 last line revised 11 December 2008
robi03_0911_robi03_0000 ASX_EJX
Previous title Something is Rotten
Stitches in Time poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Kiss Met Kismet - After Austin Dobson A Kiss and James Leigh Hunt Jenny Kissed Me
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
making pass I attack
Jenny's tongue tied and, thwack!
she kissed me right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
seemed to show on right track
was my rapid clic-clac.
Yet at dawn on the morrow
she hastened to pack
and the taxi fare borrow
though I'd thought myself crack
minglling tongue tastes, alack...
tingling young hastes allegro!
revised 11 March 2012 after Austin Dobson A Kiss and James Leigh Hunt Jenny Kissed Me for previous versions see below
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
in the ‘Ars' I've a knack
while admiring her rack
with my strong chimney stack.
That she kissed me right back
no remonstrance, no sorrow,
with a pat on the back,
neither heartbreak nor flack,
nor regret for some lack,
seemed to show on right track
was strategic attack -
as the French say ‘crack crack! '
But before dawn the morrow
she'd so rapidly pack -
what is white, what is black? -
and eclipsed herself solo
proving victory hollow
with a law-suit to follow.
3 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008 revised 25 January 2009
Kiss Met Kismet
In seduction I lack
not one whit in the sack,
she kissed me right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
seemed to show on right track
was my rapid attack.
Yet at dawn on the morrow
she hastened to pack
and the taxi fare borrow!
3 August 1991 revised 12 October 2008 for previous version see below
A Kiss - The Reply
I kissed Rose right back
like that, without sorrow,
and a pat on the back
showing on the right track
was my rapid attack
I received on the morrow: -
so why would she pack
and the taxi fare borrow?
(3 August 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jacta Alea Est
JACTA ALEA EST
One world penetrates another:
roleplay cad-I-lack, Rolls, turn into casino.
One stage upstages another:
dice roll at sixes and sevens.
One wish collides with another,
shuffled hands wrung sans sleight of hand.
One ball follows another reel
steals into black hole, alack
sees red upon green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
One [s]take's raised: another
ace outbluffs poker face buff.
Bank deal breaks idyll: another
soul's goals slide from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997 revised 1 July 2007,26 January 2010 and 5 March 2011
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
Previous title Alea
for previous versions see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ALEA
One world rides into another
as roleplay cad-I-lack rolls turns into casino.
Short stack folds as another
fans shorter lived self-conceit.
One role folds into another
as dice roll at sixes and sevens.
Long face blows hot and cold as another
buff advances a round bound to chance bluff.
One wish collides with another
as shuffled hands are wrung sans sleight of hand.
wishful thinking's inklings vain.
One pole coincides with another
as ball steals into a black hole
or sees red upon green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
Make good money belt stripped from another
turns into takeaway regret, bets hedged.
One stake raised as another
ace highjacks yet another other with poker face.
Stake raked calls shaky fake's bravado bluff
as mistake bakes apple pie, takes and eats cake.
One dream bank breaks, as another
goal glides from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997 revised 1 July 2007 and 26 January 2010
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
for previous version see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ALEA
One world rides into another
as cad-I-lack rolls turns into the casino.
One role folds into another
as the dice roll at sixes and sevens.
One wish collides with another
as shuffled hands are wrung sans sleight of hand.
One pole coincides with another
as the ball steals into a black hole
or sees red upon the green baize.
One card hides behind another
where kings and queens signify nothing.
One stake is raised as another
ace jacks up yet another other with poker face.
One dream bank breaks, as another
goal glides from real-I-tease.
1 October 1997
robi03_0852_robi03_0000 VXX_CJX
poem Alea © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Time and Distance
Inspiration outward bound
to sleep surrenders when the wheel
of fate turns luckless, still will reel,
like film slow motion stripped of sound,
as spirit tries to hold its ground.
Time and distance some say heal
aching heart with silent seal.
Distance, time, retain rebound
when someone else’s acts are found
too harsh. Time rarely will reveal
true cure for pain till Death’s cards deal
a last laugh rictus to confound
harsh stricture structures most invent
to soften life’s predicament.
What first seemed wonder hazy turned
as generations went their way,
while meanings lost through time, decay,
wheeled to new weal to wield well earned
admiration seldom spurned.
Revered turns dog-eared, what seemed ray
divine's soon tarnished, as men say
'has had it's day', to dust returned.
Thus time and distance cycles churned
amaze then maze, truth seldom stays
in clear perspective, interplays
'O tempora, O mores' - urned.
Rumble crumbles humbled by
R.I.P. bye line: Time does fly!
'O tempora, O mores' Cicero's First Oration against Catiline... mores pronounced with two syllables O what times! Oh what customs!
bye line: bye bye byline
1 June 2000 slightly revised with second sonnet added 12 August 2009
robi03_0908_robi03_0000 SXX DZX
for previous version see below
Time and Distance
Inspiration outward bound
to sleep surrenders when the wheel
of fate turns luckless, still will reel,
like film slow motion stripped of sound,
as spirit tries to hold its ground.
Time and distance some say heal
aching heart with silent seal.
Distance, time, retain rebound
when someone else’s acts are found
too harsh. Time rarely will reveal
true cure for pain till Death’s cards deal
a last laugh rictus to confound
the stricture structures most invent
to soften life’s predicament...
1 June 2000
Time and Distance Poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Rise Through Regrets
This jaded world from role reversal reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
Door closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
Only introspection spirit seals
On dust of love’s rejection which can't weep.
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets, for surface storm conceals
Events which Cause/Effect invents, spins wheels
Mind's reasons, blind, may challenge, worries sweep,
Offering chance advance, to help heart reap
Victory and tune to future's peal.
Edition new heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s start.
Dream themes unreels, hope's schemes successful chart.
© Jonathan Robin – acrostic sonnet written 28 December 2006 The Door Removed - revised 20 October 2008 for previous version see below
This world above from role reversing reels,
Harsh judgement passes on deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep -
Door closed and shuttered windows soon reveals
Only introspection which must weep
On dust of love’s rejection past. We feel
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets which may disguise surprise
Events which Cause/Effect invents to try
Most patience, represent in other guise
Other guy’s advance to Chance defy.
Vain complaint when heart new part may chart,
EDition true heals smart, stamps vis[t]a’s fresher start.
© Jonathan Robin – acrostic sonnet written 28 December 2006 The Door Removed
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.
Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0778 written 30 March 2005 revised 20070619 and 20081112 for previous version see below
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
© Jonathan Robin – written 30 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pray For My Sister
My mother asked me to pray
to pray for my sister
I wonder has she ever prayed for me
It't time to change, to put away
foolish fantasies
No longer what you imagine
No longer the images in the mirrors eye
It's time to assess the real costs
Costs come with time due
I've done all my time
Now it's due
There's no reason for you to hide
No reason to go for a ride
No reason to be taken for a ride
poem by Midnights Voice
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Time's Tide
Those cause/effect relations seek to investigate
ask why life’s lamentations can’t flow past pearly gate,
why can’t hope’s expectations some sects anticipate
show we’re wheeled incarnations, frustrations, fears, negate
Why worry what tomorrow may offer if at all,
share laughter, spurning sorrow, ignoring wailing wall,
each wakes one day, hopes hollow, must piper pay as shawl
in winding sheet few follow, no trumps for final call.
Time's tide has been extended beyond the sands of hope,
free ride from heyday ended, frayed tether, broken rope,
recount lost time expended, events' ghost mirage grope,
as most proud man intended black hole's Time's telescope.
Bright spark - life's candle gutters - so swiftly movements cease,
one cry before heart flutters, before 'Here rests in peace! '
one sigh then parting’s shutters are drawn with no surcease,
one dies while crowd bread butters inheritance apiece.
In youth great expectations mask ignorance - a vice -
few meet anticipations, most, sour, scower at Fate’s dice.
life’s joke is on Creation’s head, ne’er repeated twice,
one innings: vindications leave after-thoughts to lice.
Behind lie verses threaded, skeins sense retains in vain,
life's loves too soon are bedded by Fate immune to pain.
life’s gloves too soon are shredded by thorny greed for gain,
‘Above’ is concept wedded to fear, none bat again.
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0922_robi3_0000 XXX_CDZ 2 January 2001 revised 22 December 2008 for previous version see below
Time's Tide
Some cause/effect relations
would understand and splice -
what wall of lamentations
may give a game played twice?
Why care Creation's date to play -
the aeons ebb and flow, -
Man wakes one day with price to pay,
and nowhere left to go.
Time's tide has been extended
beyond the sands of hope,
the time for games has ended,
what trumps remain, what scope?
In youth great expectations
masked ignorance - a vice -
of how anticipations
can sour at throw of dice.
A spark, - life's candle gutters -
so swiftly mouvements cease.
One cry before heart flutters,
before 'Here rests in peace! '
Luck's tithe has been expended,
no slack remains, the rope
draws tight 'spite rules once bended
to ease life's line, to cope.
And like these verses threaded
in skein sense would retain,
Life's loves too soon are bedded
by Fate immune to pain.
2 January 2001
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dice is not God’s game.
‘God does not play with dice.’
Whether you turn wise or a vice,
Whether you lure Him with praise
He will not play you with dice.
Who is just? Who is worth? -
He is not afflicted with.
Reward and punishment is not his job.
Your birth and death are alike.
So are your ups and downs, mind.
The game of dice, you devised,
Where he has no part to play.
02.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Don't Grieve, Leave! - 1124 - Current Version
Deceived, grieve not but leave! Departing in a trice -
better alone than prone, pain tripled thrice.
'If of himself he will not love' advice
is academic - so why starve on rice
when heart and mind may find spring roll of dice
spin spare rib tasty? Hasty snap snare's splice.
Waste not one day, escape from prison vice,
abandon scoundrel to his own device.
May praise aloud from crazy crowd suffice
revising shaky rake from snaky vice?
Dance on, advance, leave loser to his lice,
uncompromising sample promised spice.
Terse verse advice cannot be more concise,
wench grieve not, take French leave, split! W[r]it precise!
(16 November 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Standing Out for the Outstanding
An hour, pretty flower, I’m agreed for,
a night, what delight beyond dreams!
a week would be bliss I would bleed for,
a month might be magic, it seems.
But a year, Dear, is more than I’d plead for,
though the hope for osmosis still gleams:
for longer, - as yet I’m not keyed for
although Love bright and bravely now beams.
to capture each rapture and encore,
if encore there be - how Time streams! -
and if I be THE one you would breed for
why not tarry a tide, b[r]ide as teams?
(Initial poem previous title A_Greed 5 June 1992 © Jonathan ROBIN
Parody revised 4 May 2005 as collaborative ring 43 contributions)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alone
A phone that seldom rings, or never,
Sounds like a life-line coiled, unused,
A link to light that stands accused,
Left hanging in the never-never.
Life is so short, so soon to sever,
A call can save, and one refused
Leaves empty heart, and mind bemused
Or all at sea. However clever
No diver plunges who would ever
Enthuse or feel the least amused
If, once he sank, trust was abused: -
Cut lines for reason whatsoever!
Remember then the friendly call
You make can take no time at all.
Acrostic sonnet and previous title As All Alone I Cry
robi03_0203_robi03_0000 ASX_JZX
(3 January 1991 revised 5 October 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Between the Times
Braggart on Time's edge razor thin
Evolving frame by anxious frame,
Tired Man spiders fate or fame,
Weaves threads soon dewless dust - none win.
Each, casting dice - who's spun, who's spin? -
Expectant, losses would reclaim.
Now's leaves fall swift to Styx domain.
Telomeres shorten, cease to twin,
Hold all in hostage to chagrin.
Each page youth inks, seeks wings, pride flame,
Till age sooth sinks, weak wrings, ride lame, -
Insects' ambered Time-trap gin.
Maybe technology shall speed up change,
Extend short sojourn, mankind's range so strange.
6 May 2001 revised 4 May 2008
robi03_0934_robi03_0000 ASX_DJZ
for previous version see below
Between the Times
Balanced upon Time's razor thin
Edge, advancing frame by frame,
Tired Man spiders fate or fame,
Weaves threads soon dewless dust - none win.
Each throws the dice - who's spun, who's spin?
Each lost winnings would reclaim -
None independence dare proclaim.
Telomeres shorten, cease to twin,
Hold all in hostage to chagrin.
Each page youth inks, seeks wings, pride flame,
Till age sooth sinks, weak wrings, ride lame, -
Insects caught within Time's gin?
Maybe the Net shall speed up change,
Extend Man's sojourn range so strange.
6 May 2001
Between the Times poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lift up your voice
Time waits on time till Cause, Effect combine.
Here is not [t]here until the watershed
Encounters catalyst, may move ahead,
Then fiction, fact, may interact, align.
Under calm show, strong currents flow, entwine
Retwisted skeins till Chance’s every thread
New turns invents, ‘synes-tricks’ plays, till sped
Is moving finger’s writ, line by dread line.
No cheap return is offered here, tears brine
Gain no remission, judgements are gainsaid.
Played through each hand, till final card is spread –
One can’t job backwards, rain transform to shine.
In such a maze are individuals caught,
The answer lies within, - unfound when sought...
The title seems so vital for each soul
alive should strive for principles not sit
as silent witness on the fence where wit
is wanting, wanting flame, name, aim or goal
or fickle fortune's hostage swallowed whole
as time absorbs most rhyme when limelight spit
finds other food to roast as life we quit.
The voice for choice should sound not squeak as mole
in tunnels dark, marked only by bite bit
emergent - soon submerged, which can't transmit
the truth, if truth exists, but begging bowl
hands out for mirror money which Time's glass
in passing soon effaces from life's grass.
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0601 20000719 revised 20070705 with second sonnet added previous title Time waits on Time
poem by Jonathan Robin
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His Place is Precious - 0189 - Initial Version
Turn from temptations of soft ride
along straight road of safety, comfort, ease, well fed,
where peace eternal, free from pride,
appeals, - appears an easy answer when all's said!
Distrust that moment when the tide
of Fortune, at the flood, entwines in fickle thread,
enticing, sickled Time at side,
man with her siren song: by lust, ambitions, led.
The silent seconds greedy glide:
dovetail decades to centuries for waiting dead,
so few of whom dared seek inside
earth's secret soul. Seemed stillborn when their hour was sped.
Whate'er the reasons that decide
the insolence of the individual; bled
by fears, or blessed by wisdom wide,
or, hope denied, twisting in heat fond heart or head,
his place is precious. Don't deride
the diff'rences that oft divide his awkward tread
from those who, superficial, slide
through life, those most behind who think themselves ahead!
(10 October 1981)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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To A... Muse
TO A... MUSE
May neither time nor tide upon your Muse
Abide for long but long for music more,
Unreeling till eternity true score
DEclining years cannot erase, abuse.
Many seek to speak but Chance can't choose
Another whose as sensitive, whose core
Unmoved remains, resistant to Time's maw,
DEar, modest, understates the role her views
Must play within our universal glues
As bridge between ‘I thought’, ‘I sought’ encore.
Under that bridge stream flows to Eden's shore,
DEsire ‘acceptance’ draws from past ‘refuse’.
MAsterpiece ‘Unstable’ modifies,
DErides blocks, barricades, unlocks joy’s skies
6 July 2008
robi03_1531_robi03_0000 ASX_LXX
To A…Muse poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Love Lost
LOVE LOST
Love lost spreads frost where once was light,
Or rime which rhyme's frieze turns to freeze,
Vista's visa parodies
Enchantment, past of pure delight.
Lovelorn, wings shorn, heart feels bite
Of cold, sold short, caught in unease
Scorning romance's fallacies,
Turning yearning into spite.
Love lost with bitterness agrees,
Or poison for both biter, bite,
Venom self-destructive quite,
Eden expels, discards its keys.
LOst should be found as founding faith
STorm weathering, not wasted wraith...
17 July 2008
robi03_1785_robi03_0000 ASX_LUX
Love Lost poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretentiousness
He stands as high in his own estimate
as Everest, yet never rests to show
he represents quintessence crowned by Fate,
the paragon of generations' flow,
sure soars, both source and force, all incarnate.
'I am' self-evidence appears, it seems,
with Time and Space combined, to demonstrate
perfection corresponding to all dreams
personnified. Such plateaux elevate
none without reason above lacklustre crowd.
Vice scorns torn virtue, self-perpetuate.
Ahead where most, more modest, bray less loud.
Nor could he cease to brag until his breath
apoplectic opens door to Death.
4 May 1998 revised 5 December 2008
robi03_0879_robi03_0000 SXX_JXX
for previous version see below
Pretentiousness
He stands so high in his own estimate
as Everest, and never rests to show
he Man's quintessence represents by Fate
triumphant crowned, - of generations' flow
he soars both source and force, all incarnate.
'I am' self-evidence appears, it seems,
with Time and Space combined, to demonstrate
perfection corresponding to all dreams
personnified. Such plateaux elevate
none without reason high above the crowd....
Vice turn to virtue? Youth perpetuate?
Ahead where most, more modest, bray less loud?
Nor shall he cease to brag until his breath
apoplectic opens door to Death.
4 May 1998
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paradise
Away,
Astray but on track to what I think
Will be the best of times when I'm on my own.
So if I may, I'll say yes, I am the player
Always on the move, I'm strong when I'm all alone.
Some things will change -
I can feel it coming but I don't know what it is.
Feel out of range -
Don't know what to do, but I'll live.
It must be like paradise,
If only someone could tell me how
So please start rolling the dice
Cause I can feel that my time is now.
It must be like paradise.
Confused, reduced to a life where I'm no longer in control
All in all I got used to be
I'm not afraid, I played all the cards that I was dealt
But this is new, I'll just have to wait and see.
Some things will change -
Don't know what to do, but I'll live.
It must be like paradise,
If only someone could tell me how
So please start rolling the dice
Cause I can feel that my time is now.
It must be like paradise.
It must be like paradise.
song performed by by E-type
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Tear's Candle
NEW TEAR'S CANDLE
Now here, now fled, bright light's soon snuffed, clock ticks,
E xistence fragile echoes with life’s play
W here visibility’s trimmed to today.
T ime up, ambitions down, as candle wicks
E xpire upon some midnight cold Fate picks.
A month or more, before horizons grey
R educe tired final flickers cinder gay, -
S pendthrift embers. Moving finger pricks
O ut bubble options, cares nor fiddlesticks
N or tinker’s curses for chance thrown away,
N or seeks reprieve for an extended stay. –
E phemeral our sojourn’s augenblicks.
T he loaf of bread, the flask of wine, boon mate,
S oon wane, recycled wax, evaporate.
1 January 2006 revised 8 September 2007
robi03_1400_robi03_0000 ASX_DEZ
Previous title New Tear's Sonnets
New Tear's Candle poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dreams Drawn to Real Reel Redefining 'Peace
Morn's haze through midday's blaze to twilight glaze,
All roads roam homewards where mind finds release.
Unswervingly towards one sought thoughts raise
Dreams drawn to real reel redefining 'peace'.
Emotions' oceans swirl around our planet
Currents criss-cross counter_clock wise fools,
Mock pre-definitions 'sound', aground. None plan it
An answer found heart fans and never cools.
Underpinning all, yet all above,
Destiny spins through cause and effect
Eliminating barricades as love
Challenges presuppositions wrecked.
May phoenix rise from embers, whose glow shows
Complicity far further forwards flows...
Dreams Drawn to Real Reel Redefining 'Peace'
[c] Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet written 17 June 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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