Jonathan ROBIN Poems

December letters:
no response greets the New Year,
but embers' fetters.
...

My stockbroker said: 'Do not wait!
If you hesitate it is too late!
Buy Burmah, one ten,
an upturn is certain,
...

“Now is the time! ” it is said,
“for good men of the party, abed,
to rush to the aid
of the underpaid,
...

No-one cares,
nobody,
sick of stares,
so lonely.
...

Keep some ten percent in hand,
it is best to do.
Pick a share in every land,
or, if you can, two.
...

Poor people pledge their petty pile
as agile agents act awhile.
Revile them as, with smirk and smile
the Temple they defile in style.
...

The Press has still to mention,
we’ve yet to know about,
every new invention
that we can’t live without.
...

Soundly sleep in dreamland deep
as silver stars the night sky creep,
till Horus the horizon leap,
Hyperion, his horses sweep.
...

Little Lucinda came to tea,
she wasn’t asked by you or me,
but when she left it seemed that she
and sunlight would for ever be
...

Here harken to the tale I tell
of little Lucinda;
by night and day she did rebel
against Nurse Philippa,
...