Jonathan ROBIN Poems

True poet knows no comfort zone
Rules, or restrictions, form or free;
Unlimited, scorns boundary.
Enchantment leads the pen alone.
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Pretence retains no sense if at a click
affections disappear, mere scaffold built
around presumptions biased, slick, or sick,
faith wraith evaporating in a jilt.
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Duality for some seems too restrictive,
two found sees ever three around the bend,
while th[r]ee or four for vision full predictive
slips out of double-bind, Caudine Fork end.
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Rêves tangibles d’un bonheur toujours exquis,
tu jures est accessible à qui y croit, ciel
et terre unis, crédible, entente bien en selle.
Pourtant les cheveux blancs à la jeunesse unis,
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When the current links computer screen to internet online,
when the 'Royal Crown' is fairly set upon fair features fine,
Then her sweetness sempiternal needs no coffee to invent
pure parody from paradise, no syllables misspent.
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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.
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Who stands on chance advance is swiftly lost,
gist takes in haste, to waste wakes, misdirection
where errors' terrors tremble counting cost;
yet yin yang spins win/win from circuit section.
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When stalactite meets stalagmite
falls, rising, to and from great height,
as stalag tight wight might dry in,
that's why kreig spieleologists die thin.
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Free flight despite dark devils of this world
needs no fixed wings, but inner flag unfurled
as emblem which no blame need stitch to show
in, out, high, low, both back and forward flow
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Shutters utterly unpinned, Spring pings flight.
Wings leave stutter gutter mutter ground unpinned,
found sound kiting, gliding upon current wind,
flowing freely towards the light,
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