Related quotes: Time waves goodbye to standards...

Under Standing

Time waves goodbye to standards narrow when,
triste tryst stood up, adversity defeats,
finds icy veils of no avail, mind zen; -
clocks are locked out, at best a stand-off meet.
One poet pulls the stops to stand upon
no ceremony blending penned soul's sense.
Time, in suspense, can only flow along
rhyme’s wit unwrit by standing on the fence.
This sonnet calls no understanding wrong,
no Spenser needs for Poesy's Defence,
reading between bright lines, night’s shadows gone,
hope shed dark cloak, awoke to joy intense.
Outstanding talent spreads dreams' rainbow seeds
which bloom beyond dumb tomb as goal succeeds.

Ambitions mercantile fall by the way
as day by day solutions fresh are found
to heal man's vast scarred opencast display
of greed, perceiving needs which torture ground.
While global warming warnings are rehearsed
the tide is turning, fresher currents flow
preparing for tsunami role-reversed
as innovation offers space to sow
hope's harvest free from ills that trouble now,
emancipation long, long overdue,
empowerment, expansion far from Dow,
which from return to nature take their cue.
Though present woes attention grab, plague years
may lead to serendipity sans tears...

28 December 2006 revised 8 June 2009
robi03_1543_robi03_0000 SXX_IJK

For previous version see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIII

UNDER STANDING

Jack Frost delays when Time stands on one pen,
Triste tryst stood up as warm verse cloak defeats,
Minds icy veil find no avail here, when
clocks are locked out, at best a stand-off meet.
One poet pulls the stops to stand upon
no ceremony blending soul and sense.
Time, in suspense, can only flow along
rhyme’s wit unwrit by standing on the fence.
This sonnet calls no understanding wrong,
no Spenser needs for Poesy's Defence,
Read, robin writes reply before night’s gone
to rest, with praise for colours so intense.
Outstanding latent talent seems whose seed
will come to bloom beyond dumb tomb, succeed …

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Standing On Ceremony

Remember your manners
Will you please take your hat off
Your mother is dying
Listen to her cough
We were always standing on ceremony
We were always standing on ceremony
Cant you show some respect please
Although you didnt in real life
Your mother is dying
And I God damn well hope youre satisfied
We were always standing on ceremony
We were always standing on ceremony
So please play another song on that juke box
Please play another pretty sad song for me
And if that phone rings, tell them that you havent seen me
If that last phone rings
Tell them that you havent seen me for weeks
And this one heres on me
Standing on ceremony, standing on ceremony
Standing on ceremony, standing on ceremony
Standing on ceremony, you were always standing on ceremony
(standing, on ceremony)
(standing, on ceremony)
(standing, on ceremony)
(standing, on ceremony)
(standing, on ceremony)
(standing, on ceremony)
...

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Lady of My Dreams

Let signal sparkle slip between silk sheets
And message mind which finds intentions clear,
Daily sought though thought still to appear,
Yet somehow ever present. This defeats
Our understanding, nonetheless completes
Fine-tuned intuitions hinting cheer.
Magically she’ll grace this lower sphere,
Yearned, here on Earth, seems heaven-sent. Conceits
Defeat ambitions as one rarely meets
Recall, prompts karmic. Time deletes most. Fear
Endangers fancied links that disappear.
Awakening masks dreams’ forgotten sweets.
Mayhap map heart has charted day and night
Shows sharing twins to spin soul’s true delight …

(24 October 1992 revised 31 December 2008/for previous version see below)

Lady of My Dreams

Let your sparkle slip between the sheets
And etch within my mind your message clear.
Daily sought it was, still to appear,
Yet somehow ever present. This defeats
Our understanding, nonetheless completes
Fine-tuned intuitions showing, dear,
Magically you grace this lower sphere.
You, here on Earth, seem heaven-sent. Conceits
Dreams seldom spring to life, one rarely meets
Reminders karmic. Time deletes most. Fear
Endangers fancied links that disappear
Awakening brings longing, half-forgotten sweets.
Mayhap map heart charted day and night
Shows you as twin to spin soul’s true delight …

(24 October 1992 – acrostic sonnet Lady of my dreams)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Offspring - 0242 - Current Version of Once

True offspring of pure poet's pen
As unclaimed orphans wait till when
Life's links are stimulated, trace
Each ph[r]ase in roundelay's embrace.
Once catalyzed, and only then,
Find we without tri[s]te mise en scène,
Purity Time can't deface,
A note in tune with Time and Space.
Reality? Hallucinogen?
As senses swirl clock seems suspen.

Drawn in, laid out, both breath and verse,
Impact intense all should rehearse,
Subject of, to, experience?
Echo imagination, sense?
Reflection fair? rhyme? prose perverse?
Epic dramatic, haiku terse?
Flow grows at nobody's expense,
Links old to new with no pretence,
Extending themes, dreams universe
Creative. Centuries traverse
To future from the present tense,
Sustains ideas, ideals immense.

Underwriting bards of old
Pure poetry need ne'er grow cold,
Of course, new meanings may appear,
Need reference points, text should stay clear
Providing into story told
Outstanding insight all behold
Excluding copies insincere
That plagiary posts to pay small beer.
Refusing censor's stranglehold,
Your poet chimes rhymes manifold.

(2 September 2009) Offspring - 0242 - Current Version of Once
Acrostic Tale of Paradise Reflects Upon Poetry

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ink Links Inklings

INK LINKS INKLINGS

Ink from inklings flows
weaving tapestry,
understanding grows,
rejecting falsity.

Monochromatic glow’s
innate harmony
kaleidoscopic shows
serendipity.

Image imago
instantaneously
enlightenment bestows,
imagination free.

Impressions’ unity
scorns ambiguity.

See also:
From Ink to Inklings 20061227
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX

robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
FROM INK TO INKLINGS

From ink to inklings visions flow
to stitch life's tapestry and sow
seeds which obscurity reject
as search for light owes slight respect
to monochromes which seldom show
more than man thinks he needs to know
or throw as viewpoint to reject
the inklings others' inks project.
So when one writes on rags to glow
upon a screen ensure thoughts throw
no jealous shadow yet protect
true principles few should forget.
Concluding couplet signs a smile
to mystic storm's intense sense style.

© Jonathan Robin sonnet written 27 December 2006
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX
See also:
Ink Links Inklings robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX 20081228
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

From Ink to Inklings

FROM INK TO INKLINGS

Ink Links Inklings

Ink from inklings flows
weaving tapestry,
understanding grows,
rejecting falsity.

Monochromatic glow’s
innate harmony
kaleidoscopic shows
serendipity.

Image imago
instantaneously
enlightenment bestows,
imagination free.

Impressions’ unity
scorns ambiguity.

See also:
From Ink to Inklings 20061227
robi03_1533_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX

robi03_1831_robi03_0000 SXX_IXX

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

On his Previous Blindness - Parody John MILTON - On His Blindness

When I consider how my life's been spent
these whirling years in this dark world and wide,
with that one talent which my wits supplied
held in abeyance waiting for love s[c]ent
to blossom to true beauty, to present
the world with tribute due and bona fide,
I thank my stars I have not been denied
your love which none and nothing can prevent,
your love, where that of others is descent,
your love which above all on Earth I pride.
I thank 'coincidence' which did provide
the opportunity to be content.
When I consider this I understand
how two t[hr]o[ugh] one may flow, grow hand in hand!

(10 December 2001 after Jphn Milton see below for alternate version)

Time Misspent
When I consider so much time misspent
these fifty years, I've little right to guide, -
such talent slight which tired wits supplied
suspended, in abeyance, impotent.
I tried to fight conformity, present
the world a contribution bona fide, -
I failed. The spirit is dissatisfied.
Some grief I wrought, feared fraudulent intent,
felt tenderness a threat - heart discontent.
Understanding free from bias, pride,
I'm thankful for, thank life which could provide
the opportunity to learn time lent
grants space to face oneself, to understand
how two should flow together, hand in hand..

(10 December 2001 after Jphn Milton see below for alternate version)

On Our Blindness
When we consider all our freedoms lost
with HA! BE U.S.! Corpus of bush law,
black death to hide the whitewash when p'lice score
'gainst innocence ‘wrong place, wrong time' star-crossed,
One wonders, when our children count the cost
and, chiding, true account present before
Executive Privilege bolted door,
will they, when light denied, in prison tossed,
murmur "God only needs assent Orwellian bossed! "?
Man, chip embeddèd, acts recorded, sore
bearing harsh yoke, must serve where none ignore
C.C.T.V. controls come shine or frost.
They swerve too late who brake fair freedom's flow,
stand, wait, burn at State stake, want not to know …

(15 May 2007 after John MILTON 1608_1674 On His Blindness)

On his Blindness
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied? '
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: 'God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.'

John MILTON 1608_1674

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet: Poetic Prudence

A fixed meter, fixed rhyme sequence
Are important in Sonnet writing- Yes;
Thus, structured poetry is rigid- hence,
How far the thoughts get penned down is a guess!

The chosen form must suit the writer’s needs;
The structure too reflects the poet’s tone;
Both rosaries and necklaces have beads!
A sonnet must not be a sculptured stone!

Yes, content is more important than form;
The words must flow in harmony aright;
A Sonnet’s structure ought to do no harm
To what the poet intended to write.

What poets say must get the preference;
The other things shall act like just a fence!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-4-2005

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poetry's Chaste White Walls - 0242

True offspring of pure poet's pen
As unclaimed orphans wait till when
Line's links are stimulated, trace
Each ph[r]ase in roundelay's embrace.
Once catalyzed, and only then,
Find we without tri[s]te mise en scène
Purity Time can't deface,
A note in tune with Time and Space.
Reality? Hallucinogen?
As senses swirl clock seems suspen.
Drawn in, laid out, both breath and verse,
Impact intense all should rehearse,
Subject of, to, experience?
Echo imagination, sense?
Reflection fair? rhyme? prose perverse?
Epic dramatic, haiku terse?
Flow grows at nobody's expense,
Links old to new with no pretence,
Extending themes, dreams universe
Creative. Centuries traverse
To future from the present tense,
Sustains ideas, ideals immense.

Underwriting bards of old
Pure poetry need ne'er grow [c]old.
Of course, new meanings may appear,
Need reference points, text should stay clear
Providing into story told
Outstanding insight all behold
Excluding copies insincere
That plagiary posts to pay small beer.
Refusing censor's stranglehold
Your poet chimes rhymes manifold,
See soul's script magic skywards steer.

Chaste white walls border pristine page
Hibernating in purity
As, from judgemental values free,
Signal slumbers, till siren sage
Time calls, walls fall, all's filled in; cage
Empties when pen pursues mind's key.
Whitewash blushes. Absentee,
Harsh ego hides pride's head off-stage
In shame, game-playing 'off the page! '
To self stay true, coeur et esprit,
Enshrines ideals effortlessly.

Write pure sustainability,
Authentic creativity,
Links and ensures. Enduring gage
Leaves rant's spree to precocious age,
'Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste' waste fee.

(21 April 2012)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Parody Of John Keats 'On The Sonnet

Parody to follow, but first, the real deal sonnet by John Keats,1819...
----------…
John Keats sonnet.....'On the Sonnet'...

If by dull rhymes our English must be chained,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
Fettered, in spite of painéd loveliness;
Let us find out, if we must be constrained,
Sandals more interwoven and complete
To fit the naked foot of poesy;
Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress
Of every chord, and see what may be gained
By ear industrious, and attention meet;
Misers of sound and syllable, no less
Than Midas of his coinage, let us be
Jealous of dead leaves in the bay-wreath crown;
So, if we may not let the Muse be free,
She will be bound with garlands of her own.
----------…
My parody.....'On Rhyme and Money'

If by dull rhyme our fortune's attained,
let us speak, shout, seek, complete with all pain
tomorrow's journey to our bank account.
Ignore that woman chained by wisdom's fount.

Was she not acclaimed in her day and time?
Her eternal beauty bought for a dime
from every passing vendor. How vane!
Her shame, wanting blonde tresses. Brunette's bane!

Forlorn, forsworn, we apply merely base
words, structure, to the poetics of haste.
And, all meaning wanting, we write cheap
nonsensical verse, all rhyming replete.

We of beggars' free verse stand time's testing,
penniless, but with no gods are jesting.

poem by Elysabeth Faslund
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fresh Dimensions

Magic passion lifts aloft life’s song,
as love's light flexes butterfly-bright wings,
unchains hope's scope, reclaims aims' heartfelt rings,
dreams forward stream, finds feelings fair and strong.
Enigmas are resolved - false right, true wrong -
curb rash rush to judgement, insight brings
on innate understanding, softly sings
revealing fresh dimensions where “belong”
real empathy may entertain, prolong.
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings,
exile Time’s agression, salve past stings -
response sees through all torture-mirage tongs
attains new plane where each from each learns much,
spins sentiments meant to enhance shared touch.

10 June 2006 revised 18 May 2008 for previous version see below

Breathless passion lifts aloft life’s song,
Existence flexes butterfly-bright wings,
Leads to true aims attained, - unchained heart rings
Ideal dream’s forward stream, finds feelings strong.
No preconceptions air false right, true wrong,
Dare rush to judgement, for fresh insight brings
An innate understanding as scope sings
Boundless expansion where the word “belong”
Empathy may entertain, prolong.
Leave Time’s agression, all unpleasant stings,
Invite proactive flight free from kite strings.
New doors lead into sharing far from nong!
Draw inspiration to enhance and cheer
A reach where each from each learns vision clear.

10 June 2006

Fresh Dimensions Poem © Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Last Time

I'm gone I'm so gone.
I can't stand this.
Like medicine forced down my throat.
You tell me everything that is wrong with me.
Yet you want my understanding,
You want my pity.
Here let me spit in your direction on my way out the door.