Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Page, pageant, dreams veil daily quail trail tale.
Advancing age culls w[r]inkled p[r]awns, the Gods
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An hour, pretty flower, I’m agreed for,
a night, what delight beyond dreams!
a week would be bliss I would bleed for,
a month might be magic, it seems.
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I've further trekked than sunny Spain,
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A Plan for all Seasons
When Pompidou for culture stood
in Gaul, Faith was profession,
The flag of France’s trade withstood
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Carolling II


He Thought He Saw
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........Altogether
.....as..g00d..is
.....in.....all.....as
....all....within...its
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What mission may the poet still retain
Here in this day and age, which sees the world
As lost as ever, while mankind is whirled
Too fast, and at a pace few can sustain.
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We time together for some little space
Each adding unto each when harmony
Advances understanding, spirits free,
Rewards unneeded where acceptance trace
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CV in hand through contest I would stalk,
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One hundred ten from acorn cup
my trunk, once slender, up and up
advanced to tickle sun and moon:
I versify. Life's afternoon
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