Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Merlin, magician, foresight filled,
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Why do you bury your head underground,
risking so much and so much?
O black and white ostrich with feathers all found,
why do you bury your head in the ground
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White rose peeps, weeps too purely,
while red shows scarlet sins,
subjectivism’s surely
a set of moral gins.
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Tyger’s Rumour


Rumour rushing rampant right
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I prayed myself a_trophy,
as golden as could be,
so Vivian and Sophie,
on PH poetry
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Gather ye rosebuds all who will,
and yet, though Time’s a-flying,
in one fair head, eternal still,
Life thrives, Death’s grin denying.
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Shall I compare her to a summer’s day?
A thousand times more sweet she seems to me!
Nor may Time’s winds – (which darling buds of May
Do shake) – unsettle love’s perennity.
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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.
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Requiem II

From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
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Welcome stranger, settle bed and board,
Rest sore, weary head while dreamless sleep
both body, mind repairs. Let slumber deep
wash worries well away, your precious hoard
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