Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Past and Present’s argument:
busy bee belligerent
pollen gummy complement
bagged we present, buzzing by.
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irst white horse of all
prancing past pale pink dawn,
before the first bulrush hall
rose up by the Nile's flood corn.
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Woman is a paradox,
maid man, unmade-up, shocks:
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Why, Jack, though attractive your rhyme,
there’s no conflict – temptation and fear
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When Dave Priest died grave sexton told
to toll fell bell for corpse stone cold,
from epiderm to earthworm's feast
star studded sports sporadic yeast.
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Dream's love theme on all that ensues
dwells playfully here to amuse
as the candles breeze blows
out, as pleasure bestows
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Sagittarian arrow
flew to true finality:
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When rhyme scheme frames dimensions few suspect
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Here lies a good man, lately dead,
Who never saved, nor looked ahead;
proceedings which he justified
by trusting Heaven to provide.
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“It is time to make hay, love’s a’brim,
Though no sun shines a son’s lines no whim!
Let our stars spin together,
for fair future we’ll weather
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