Jonathan ROBIN

Rookie - 214 Points (22 September / London)

Wishful Thinking A Premature Soviet Farewell To Solidarnosc After William Shakespeare The Tempest - Prospero's Farewell To His Magic - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Our rebels now are ended, or retractors.
All would-be actors, as I foretold you, were spirited away,
are melted into air, into thin air.
Unlike their base fabric stand our prisons,
whose cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces
of solemn Kremlin, grate, englobe them. Its influence,
all they wish to inherit, shall not dissolve so soon!
Their insubstantial pageant faded
leaves but our rack behind! They are such stuff
as screams are made on, and, in their little lives
are rounded up like sheep!

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(31 October 1988)

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013


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