Curtains - Acrostic Sonnets
Cast down, downcast, life’s curtains close.
Unique light dims. Brush sweeps away
Rubbish, dust toxic, as last day
Terminates where no-one knows.
As final fanfare, shadow shows'
Impulsive flickers farewells spray,
Nostalgic tears of breath that flows
Soon fades, fast cast off from life's play.
Cravens shake, quake: mortal clay
Unmade fades, waste tastes. Self betray.
Ruins bogged logs, blogs [l]ink life's woes,
Tainted tale eclipsed, lost way.
Scurf shed, serf's surf turf dead Time’s tide sucks marrows dry,
Tain Superficial spurned, urned, earned rest questions “why”?
Clipped face, stripped place, run race, shunned trace
Unwinds pale veil mind's memory.
Reel spiel deals cards, real wheel turns, we
Trash out, forget past's petty pace
All's torn, dawn born, night flight, gods' grace
Is shot bolt shoot chute history
Needs no more. Time, Titan, feeds. See
Salt tears stream from lost cause, lost case,
Crass subterfuges can't replace
Urgent youth's spontaneity.
Rot, pain, sot bane. Death, tsunami,
Takes life to task, returns to base.
Inbuilt coup de grâce, dreams' frozen tears,
Seem all most draw from washed out years.
(1 May 2013)
Jonathan ROBIN's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Downcast, cast down, life’s curtains close.
Lights dim. Grim cleaners sweep away
toxic containers as last day
slips silently where no-one knows.
Final farewell may faintly spray
nostalgic tears before breath flows
so fast from cast off shadow-shows
that those enacting mortal play
shake, shiver, quiver, quake, betray
self-doubts which water log, bog clay.
What bitter taste, what waste, life’s woes
owe each, as each too early knows
in turn Time’s tide sucks marrows dry,
in urn, spurned rictus, questions “why? ”
A face, a place, run race, no trace
to tear the veil that memory
within a generation we
trash out of fashion, petty pace
is torn, born, past, life-lines unlace,
shot bolt shoot chute as history
itself, one day, may cease to be.
What tears stream from lost cause, lost case,
what subterfuges to replace
youth's mirage, mirror brain drain. See
pain's pane, bane [p]ages tsunami,
paints vain complaints, return to base.
When coup de grâce falls frozen tears
are all we thaw from washed out years.
(20 May 2008)
see below for initial version and also see acrostic version entitled Curtains written 1 May 2013
At last, too fast, the curtains close,
lights dim, and sweepers clear away
ice-cream containers as the day
slips silently where no-one knows.
Of all life's battles little shows!
What fond farewell will faintly spray
love's perfume on life's hearse to say
a last adieu before it goes.
Nostalgic tears on self's wind blows
to comfort inner fears that play
round Man's existence, short our stay!
Who guidance gives as Future's flows
engulf all in a tidal wave
where memories are hard to save?
(21 April 1990)
Comments about this poem (Curtains - Acrostic Sonnets by Jonathan ROBIN )
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