I can EMIT TIME
'I Can! ' EMIT TIME
Kindly Refer to Notes
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This retourne shows how Time bright glows,
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
Maintains red rose, sustains verse, prose,
Egg, chicken, span, - ensure ‘I can! ’
TIME’s sum’s not dumb, repeating drum
Inspiring plan Life offers man,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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力 Aura of Felicity 爱
He meets by chance he'll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
Time stands stock still, clock can't progress,
as second sight's embracing strand
second-thoughts disbands - caress
sends shivers through pores which expand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
They flow together, former woes -
in ways no verse may summarize -
replaced by links which cannot close
metamorphosis supplies.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Act Out Bit Parts as Wit Departs after John Donne Meditation XVII Nunc lento sonitu dicunt morieris
Cloud cuckoo land where bland hands band against all authenticity,
there, playing ball before thrall's shawls eliminates lucidity.
Who waits awhile, stands, serves, won't free last long without dexterity -
which in itself suspicions casts whate'er one's assiduity.
Though almost fifty years have sped since Orwell paper penned to see
what hidden time-traps lay ahead - if writ today the same would be
as relevant or more. Where fed still silent mass majority
clings to and through employment bread with slight sustainability.
Every man an island is unto himself, or so should be,
yet many abdicate their fate, cede self-respect and liberty.
Each to each together chained, suspecting self-sufficiency;
by rigid rules, conventions, penned - dumb shadows in Democracy.
When compromising breezes blend, most bend, to please society,
trends ill to curse where currents tend that set sad score for sanity.
Should stout voice shout out from closed shop hive to doubt respectability,
we flout it lest it compromise our own invincibility.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Symbiotic Symphony
Slim beauty, fair hair sun-bright cloud
about her billows, surface calm
masks deep emotions, soul uncowed,
search newly blessed by soothing balm.
She wandered, lonely, through the crowd,
observing all, yet often seemed
both close and distant, head unbowed,
epitome of dreams she’d dreamed.
Sweet symbiotic symphony
awaiting liberating call,
preparing serendipity,
would nonetheless retain high wall
until discovering within
an infinite capacity
for stretching wings devoid of sin,
freed from former opacity.
Perpetual priority
protecting family until
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ambiguity Arose - after Rose Aylmer Walter Savage LANDOR
Oh, what avails a pretty face
with beauty creams besprinkled,
for Father Time wins every race,
soon age Life’s page has wrinkled.
Where is the flush, the lush embrace,
starred eyes that carefree twinkled?
Night draws its shutters, leaves no trace
of light, save mem’ries sinkled.
Oh, What avails a pretty face,
and voice divinely tinkled,
if all behind be ugly, base,
with mind both blind and wrinkled?
Some say unique is every case,
eyes amber, periwinkled,
yet all too soon return to base,
AND DNA's ash sprinkled.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Decide Against Stereotypes - 1294 - Current Version
Decisions take, nor hesitate nor bide
Excessive time awaiting from outside
Comprehensive answers coveted.
Independant mind must coincide
Directly with the will to win, not hide.
Existence is too short - life soon is fled.
Decades dovetail to centuries beside
Entrapped spectators, waiting on the side,
Challenge refusing, witless walking dead
In fear of fear, refusing to decide.
Dare! Few remain who answers seek inside
Earth's soul? Most stillborn seem brief hour sped!
Distrust that moment Fortune's tide
Entwines ambitious greed, feeds fears inside,
Cause, Effect confuses, Fate's fickle thread
Identified as true cue. Conformist thread
Dark homage pays 'authority'. Most slide,
Endure life's strife stings, by siren songs misled.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Will anybody care? 2010 Version
Hurt heart thumps through stark torrent's spew, pain's veins pump vain despair,
why wishing-well what world would do when one's no longer there?
Why worry who will bed or woo, misled wed base affair,
each age sends stage page scene anew, pent rage vents spleen, sad snare.
Once wraith what faith may comfort, who contentment finds? Aware
are all their fall supplies no true rise paradise, skies fair.
Dank dark last leaves grieve hung with dew, shaved, stumpy trees stripped bare,
gibbering ghosts, grey-greenish hue shade shiver in sharp air.
Options, once so bright and blue, too soon turn tarnish, wear
down most who must survive on crust, while some pad out lust's lair
beyond the dreams and rhyming schemes of blushing Baudelaire;
whored guilty conscience safely stored, bribes poured for greased palm tare.
Burnt bridge of sighs quite cuts in two split city's spirit spare,
and therefore, by extension, too, links life to - God knows where.
Wan lie acquaintanceships one knew, affection two should share,
while once exciting avenue of life seems impasse where
old vaunted haunts time's rimed review now daunts. For void prepare.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sensitive Selfless Scribe's Shorthand Script Successfully Shows Superb Syllabic Stanza Susurration
Kindly refer to Notes
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SENSITIVE SELFLESS SCRIBE'S SHORTHAND SCRIPT SUCCESSFULLY SHOWS SUPERB SYLLABIC STANZA SUSURRATION
Stanza stanza swift succeeding
seldom static, subtly speeding
serried series, saccharinic,
sentences scarce schizophrenic.
Sentences scarce schizophrenic,
salvos sparkle, sagenitic,
succulent succession seeding
stanza stanza swift succeeding.
Stanza stanza swift succeeding
serenade sauteed spoonfeeding
special scansion ‘S’ syllabic,
sentences scarce schizophrenic.
Sentences scarce schizophrenic
solo solves sound stream, strabismic
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can fight Monsanto’s sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you’re the early bird with worms in range.
If you stay steady when winds may be blowing
subarctic currents shiveringly strange,
if you can soar above false walls while knowing
true sharing's bliss which cheaps deep love's exchange.
If you can fly your kite despite snow falling
avoiding kites' and kittyhawks' harsh call,
if you won't compromise with inner calling,
nor flash your feathers - pride before the fall.
If you can weather frost or luck appalling,
tail waggle far from gaggling geese, nor stall
friends' search for perch beyond the masses mawling,
refusing vested interests' greedy gall.
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Post-Modern Culture-Nile Trial in Denial
Post-modern culture lessons few has learned
Years stretched to centuries times forty-eight
Raising structures daring Time's 'dew' date.
Alas tide heralds dust to dust returned,
Mocks mankind's self-pollution coda earned.
Ice cap melt-down Giza, called the Great,
Dares threaten now, its powers bow to Fate,
As boom to bust bricks blow away, wind churned,
Leaves man at sea, too many bridges burned.
Polar pressures crack tectonic plate.
Open options exercised too late
Will mourn lost time when one dawn meets flood stern
Extending over reads, reeds, fern stems drowned,
Returning fallen pride to sea-slush mound.
Post-modern culture, pushy, churns ahead,
Yet spurred by institutions that remain
Resistant to internal change, which train
Ambassadors who vested-interest dread.
Mutant paradox is progress, fed
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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