Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Raven hair and a cough,
pitiful painted smile,
through rain and in the rough
unhappy waiting while
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Autumn sunbeams light on wild wood track
Undulating over, under, through
The breezing branches, waving forwards, back.
Undergrowth shivers. Golden leaves bestrew
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I think I think I'm really me,
I'm me, who looks through God each day
when venturing to fight life's fray.
I'm free I think to think I'm free.
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DECIMAL POINTS


One minute here, hearsay the next,
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The Latest Decalogue

Worship one true God only, who would run to the expense of two?
Your ruin truly will ensue unless you heresy eschew.
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Where cash reasons not rhymes one would seize on
where interest not principles pays,
there brash fees feed the fire as the season
from 'spring' through the 'fall' counts the days.
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Some sonnets upon sonnets poets write
Offering examples of their skill,
Need neither censure nor false praise to fill
New chapter, verse, in ego's copyright.
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The clouds, which mask mount Fuji from below,
Above appear a blanket of Spring snow.

Arriving by air
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If you can keep your cheese while few about you
are holding onto theirs', all envy ease.
If none can get your goat nor cow could doubt you
your scent which, heaven sent, can tell true Bries
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PRIORITIES

Today’s priorities tomorrow fade,
dissolved, distorted by Time's tug of war.
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