Eternal Golden Braid - Escher, Gödel, Bach
Escher, Gödel, Bach, together
make mind's music tempo weather
form to storm blocks, light as feather
turn constraints most, far less clever,
see as strictures which tight tether,
not as pictures hell-for-leather
spirit lead to question whether
constancy's illusion ever.
Patterns into patterns weaving
both deceiving, undeceiving,
here perception sees stairs leaving
there inspection stares, seize cleaving.
Somehow someone reconciling
forwards, back, and time a-whiling,
motion into more compiling,
starts ball rolling inwards smiling
outwards treadmills single-filing
round in circles never riling,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pandora's Box Unlocks
With prosperous public to politics wed,
privacy's threatened, it can't be gainsaid.
Consumer protection is often misled
by headlines enticing and small print widespread.
Set in strip lighting, or spoken, or read,
through radio, T.V., broadcasted in bed.
Nor ever has Internet, spammed, been immune,
text message records, repeats, slick slogan, tune.
Printed in polychrome over our head,
in so many senses, for senseless fathead,
over the airwaves judiciously spread
from high ultra-violet to low infra-red,
pasted on posters in blue, black, or red,
advertisement squares all our savings have bled.
The first time I set eyes upon square screen
was for the Coronation of the Queen,
the room was packed with neighbours far and wide,
sardines with scarce a breathing space inside.
But that was almost sixty years ago,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Must Rhyme Draw Blank..et Criticism?
It’s sad to see that rhyming‘s thought redundant
by those who’s bark can’t steer poetic star,
who grudge, shout out, doubt scope, spout words abundant,
seek validation they’d from others bar.
‘Free verse’ disperse if this your fancy tickles
to jar the winter of your discontent,
with fallen leaves, sheaves garnered, unhoned sickles,
with [f]lagging letters, jagged sentiment.
Rhyme carries more than meaning: music, timing,
pattern, play, holistic core explore,
link sense to ‘whither’, ‘whence’, nor mummer’s miming,
nor lead tread led astray by crow’s harsh caw.
‘Rich rhyme’ or ‘prose’ debate is academic
when eight in ten can’t read three thousand words,
what counts is sense and sentiments – polemic
remains the province of small minds in herds
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Relative to Causal Initiative Paradox - After Auden - Breughel
Was Auden right to write Art was not wrong -
on canvas or through written word, to state
all little matters outside isolate
fate which squeezes, seizes in its tong
souls who - as Gray said - from madding throng
scarce ventured out, immune to stale debate
on cause, effect, affecting their estate.
The Old Masters, however, understood
human fragility, how we replace
extraordinary events, prefer the commonplace where we feel strong within our element. As then, all mark life-cycles but our waiting
is not breath 'taking' bait abating. Miracles few see
as part and parcel of modernity,
while often sibling rivalry's thin ice-skating
along the dotted line society
dictates for thinking as they 'ought to should.'
We should 'bear' in mind that life expectancy
was nearer forty (women thirty - childbirth took its toll) -
than three score years and ten, today's retirement age
when we have filled our work résumés page
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Epitaph on an Unread Verse after William Carlos Williams' Red Wheelbarrow
This is just to play on plum phrases
hibernating in your brainbox,
which your neurones were probably waiting for
to break free fast.
Forgive me their taste is delicious,
so neat and so bold.
An agèd poet with hollow laughter
swiftly sprayed her incisive syllables
in consonant activity and, yearning,
paid [s]lip service:
so much depends
upon lifelong learning's expectations,
an unread verse [s]pokes for comments,
reigns above lily-livered chicken-hearted critics
before a blank screen.
so much more depends
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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On Effective Causal Thoughts and Decisive Effects On Thoughtful Causes - Martinson Refutation
The bridge that spans thoughts linking Cause, Effect
distinguishes Man - homo styled Erect
whose trait outstanding's often pride elect -
as silent seeker striving to perfect
himself beyond dogmatic, rigid sect,
attempting to see all angles and collect
'reports and contradictions' and disect
with authenticity all Chance connect_
ions stimulate: synapses leapt
by neurons racing, tracing, to eject
falsehood, 'Truth' retain to redirect
'decisive' thoughts from judgements set, unchecked.
The basic tenets of the argument
suggest 'Truth' 'lies' within, with silence sent
as element essential for ascent
'significant' to peak that speaks assent
from all, gestating silently thoughts meant
to impact and endow empowerment
on all with open mind, not self-torment
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Zoo Blues - parody T.S. Eliot Macavity
The Lion and the Unicorn
The Lion and the Unicorn were happy, but the Crown
decided that the Lion’s day was done, his house pulled down,
so Council’s moral: pull his tail! At that, heart-wrending groan
was heard – no more the sturdy roar each one felt was his own!
And like the chimpanzees who teased their fleas and used to clown
at tea-time in the London Zoo – his whereabouts’ unknown!
Some sought him in the Parliament, and some in Lion Square,
though dogs may bark in Regent’s Park, the Lion was not there...
The Lion and the Unicorn together used to frown
upon Old England’s enemies, to please the King, - now brown
and rusty lies the cage’s door, poor watchman sighs alone,
for no one tries to subsidise the former keeper’s loan!
And though the government meant well, he’s hounded out of town,
his days are up, no more to sup, upon a luscious bone, -
some call upon 10 Downing Street, some Fleet Street, some Mayfair,
though dogs may bark in Regent’s Park, the Lion is not there!
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Global Idol Idyll - 0973 - Current Version
What were priorities of yesterday?
Subsistence fraught with much fragility,
man's coil unshuffled soon, as end of play
stem cut from rose bloom, life-expectancy
short, caught in superstition cowled in grey,
or shaman stripping Easter Island's tree.
Fee none avoid when piper waits on pay.
Mistakes men made are coming home to roost.
A la recherche du temps perdu most flee
too little energy remains to boost.
Vision absent, in new century,
this global village veers off script: see Proust.
Pollution, pillage, menace land and sea,
as 'havoc and the gods of war' are loosed.
We flee towards an end both known, unknown,
here straight, there stony, seldom seem in key,
follow a path which our own past has sown,
what city_zen's in tune with Destiny?
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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What is Real to Roundabout Reel - reverse mirror after Rubaiyat of a Robin
Wake! though the West still fitfully counts sheep,
the East's ablaze, there will wise rays rise steep
from far horizon, phasing stars away
phrased out by Robin Jay and sparrow's cheep.
A bird soft sings, one robin is enough,
to sway ten trillion stars as ball of fluff
art scored by millions more - cheep's cheek astounds,
rebounding echoes which their shyness slough.
Earth lends thereto both orbit, ear, at ease
tunes into echo surfing on the breeze,
Life's warmth wells from flat fields and rocky tors,
gold bees abound, they buzz as kittens sneeze.
Eternal silence sleep prevents, world waits
on spider spinning, dawn anticipates,
while we may ask what sense is made of sound
by church and steeple, aisle and green stile gates.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Do Re Mi
DO RE MI FA SO LA TI DO
anagram
DO I FORMALISE, DOAT?
Mind finds through magic interface
enchantment in soft smile whose grace
leaves senses reeling into space.
Form, face, inspires as, in disgrace,
Time disappears, and in its place
all doubts dissolved, we solve life’s chase.
Mingling, jingling, words may trace
cheer and charm which interlace
heart with heart, - no commonplace
encounter doubles pulse rate race.
It sudden seems, in any case,
prismatic colour tones replace
monochrome monochord most embrace
12 June 1997 revised 1 October 2005
robi03_0844_robi03_0000 SXX_LMX
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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