Jonathan ROBIN Poems

T he café on the corner’s closing down,
A non its fame will fade outside old file,
...

D ay warms to day, to night dark night succeeds,
A nd strings the Present as a row of beads
...

Bright mirror which sheds light on silent screen,
impartial witness to ephemeris,
another day reflects on other scene,
...

M istrust cold logic, reasons cut and dried,
I nput stacked as hay in Autumn’s pride.
...

Singly stripped from off life's bark
play's days phase no relays return,
passing flicker arcs in dark:
swift sparkle, matchless pages turn,
...

Poems channel syllables to song,
Opening wing valvelets which control
Each heart-string signals pulse neuronic, goal
Towards brain's keep sweep leaps synaptic throng.
...

Most make believe in anything they read,
'amazing', 'awesome' slip from flippant pen
to praise, to raise reaction, and again
to draw attention to their need to feed
...

The search for sense amidst life’s solitude
Has topsy-turvy turned beliefs for years.
Is happiness goal sought, or flight from fears,
Sensed as years’ tears, insensitive, intrude?
...

The jackals jerking on the jess of Time
shall slip their shackles. Hordes, like ancient huns
whose spears seem toys before tomorrow’s guns,
show Man is Man’s worst enemy in crime.
...

Verse is not magic even though at times
as reader, writer surf together, cue
links through patterns shared, decoding clue,
enter into spirit of the rhymes.
...