Dreamworks

DREAMWORKS
Eyes saw reflection Monday, when World War II was won,
emerging, letters learning, to betters bowed, begun
a journey spread like butter upon life’s bread, which seems
to be about to stutter before landlord of dreams.

Eye Tuesday schooled, life's masquerade began to understand
how letters strung together rung bells brain took in hand,
soft strength no bitter toil required to channel patterned streams,
blood flood no rudder needed to feed forever's dreams.

Eyes which advanced one Wednesday upon emotions’ tide
to woo, to win, together, as groom to beauty bride,
felt joys would last for ever, like strawberries and cream,
tapped hope's sap, never'd sever eternity from dreams.

Eyes which in turn one Thursday sired fruit so well desired,
who queried much, yet stayed untouched by vain ambitions tired,
felt feelings frank, not clever, that seek 'together's' gleams,
to sow, reap, harvest, gather the essence of shared dreams.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant

HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT

I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.

It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Muse A Maze Sings Dreams through Sleep's Haze 1965

Warp and weft, bereft of self-references, dream dance double helix above, beneath and around the sum of understanding, st[r]anding both apart from and a part of the spiral hole swirling, curling and whirling through the whole into and out of itself. A state_mental line, desperate to [t]race light, as if its existence depended upon its speed seed, soars arching, starching star I Ching through sliding parallel word worlds, trying to reach, underscore, underline and define itself. Is everything relativity maze one [m]asks laughingly, muse intent upon making an intact exit from channelled dream tunnel.

Muse maze amusing seems to spring
from creativity that night
brings into fractal firework focus fling.
Here flames, there names, door to delight
perception tunes, reads runes, insight
cues into clues, amazing bells ring,
distinguished details recondite
subconsciously, persist despite
approaching daylight blanketing
precise recall of everything.

Swift spinning wheel revolves within,
revel keyed to rainbow bright,
now wing weft warps, now weaves from sight,
enters, leaves as senses spin.
What is end when things begin
from finish, swing new day from night,
wind sings chains free, both slack and tight,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Intelligent Design

I, dot, would score, scour ocean floor,
you too were dot, not more.
We'd LOOP the LOOP in primaeval soup
our POOL gene POOL core corps.
We'd POLO here, there POLO for
none then knew scoop could droop.
We'd grin, twin core to win encore
no sour sin, hour, no law!
No fairies, flowers' fragrant bower,
nor need, nor greed for power.
No men's omens, hymns, amens dour,
no hymen's Babylonian tower -
no cause because nor clause, paws' claws,
no doors, chores, flaws, no pause.

I'd stoop, you'd swoop, with helluva whoop -
no care, unfair dis....pair.
Above, below, we'd group, regroup
all with no 'mal[e] de mer'.
Amino here, ah me! know there

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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When you are Old

Sonnet XXXII

Should you survive the number of my days,
Attest to buried bones and grounded hope,
Nervous, by chance, perhaps this book you'll ope,
Grave hand re-reading, when fast passed my ways.
Tender friend recall our comet blaze,
Openly with instinct's gyroscope
Mark, nurture, sight and sound, bright chromascope,
Able to distill implicit ph[r]ase.
Methinks fond thoughts might share this paraphrase:
“As rainbow bridge strips off coarse envelope
Underdeveloped were poor poet’s plays -
Death forced him far too early to elope.
E’er since he died, have other poets flourished.
Competent their works, I’ll read his, who love nourished.”

[c] Jonathan Robin

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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She Thought She Saw-Parody Lewis CARROLL–The Mad Gardener’s Song

She Thought She Saw

She thought she saw quite equal pay
afforded equal work,
she looked again and found it was
a most unusual quirk.
“That men should keep their cake, ” she said,
“and eat it too, must irk.”

She thought she saw that light of day
would filter through each jerk,
she looked again and found it was
belief most held beserk.
“That men should nappies change, ” she said,
“would wipe off every smirk! ”

She thought she saw fair interplay
where men would never shirk,
she looked again and found it was
a most miasmic murk

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time

Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time

I met a poet from an online site
who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
stand in my mind, yet find description quite
inadequate, half sunk beneath time flown.'
I answered: 'He whose sneer rei[g]ned cold command,
his sculptor too, are both to Lethe blown,
his passions mocked by who'd today demand
a résumé for tourists who bemoan
a lack of facts to show their pseudo friends
to back up their vacation time well spent,
and yet, and yet, so similar their ends
whose works turn sand when's finished sojourn lent.'
He came, he ruled, time fooled and conquered him,
trunk packed away museumwards on whim.

Nosy man dies as day draws down dark night,
knows he has but a finite span to moan
upon this Earth until, denied the right

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Crow[n]ing Appreciation

CROW[N]ING APPRECIATION Kindly refer to notes

May this rhymed reel appreciation show
An insight into mind prismatic whose
Unrivalled aptitudes should make world news
Dare we delve deep beneath sweet surface glow.
Ever instincts’ sentinels tap flow,
Meditate on standards she pursues -
Awareness and autonomy won’t loose.
Undouted search from perch where most might crow
Dreaming on teaming, fearing fall below.
Excellence, integrity no excuse
MAy ever accept, though rigid rules are cues
Used more to guide than bind or keep in toe.
Destiny’s rejected. Free will traces
Extensive network independence chases.

Extensive network independence chases
Despises narrow minds, unwinds tall tales,
Upstanding and outstanding spirit sails

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Double Helix Abecedarian - 1859 - Xylophonic Resonance

All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life's cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival's urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time's gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who'll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn's hadJ

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Upwardly MobileBreasts

Upwardly mobile breasts
link together East and West,
occupying cyberspace
to tease, to please, as they unbrace -
spring feeding fantasy oppressed -
that gravity which, second-guessed,
would temper passions. These, apace,
grow, flow with honey, milk, chased chaste.

Man, mammal mammary obsessed,
manhandles, memory manifests
'I' level interest interface_
_sings [t]issues in both good, poor taste,
can't displace attention best
focused elsewhere, soul possessed
by magnet tandem ride, slim waist,

upwardly mobile, undepressed.
D stands for Double bubble laced,
succulence symetric spaced

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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