Jonathan ROBIN Poems

A poem is a pearl within the heart,
Painstakingly perfected, primed with tears,
Offering reflections which the years
Encapsulate within a world apart.
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Although acessibility at times appears an empty dream,
Creative strategies MUST lead towards acceptance of this right,
Confirming care for special needs, for firm and long term oversight,
Efforts made internationally to guarantee clear meta scheme.
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Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.
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Winding down scene: see summer seeds, prepares,
Reeled thread which into orange autumn's haze
Inserts green flashes, golden sun ablaze,
To time out Time as Nature's rhyme repairs
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Terse verse rehearses Nature’s cycle sent
as curse hearse food for thought life’s answers sought
for four millenia or more - predicament
narcissistic of man shaman time-trap caught.
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When Giscard greeted France last night
regretfully he threw no light
on how his Party could prevent
a rise in unemployed, jobs spent.
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When choice is confiscated by little minds or might,
scope's rightful place vacated when bigotry or spite
come unanticipated to sweep away delight,
or red-tape inundated by petty parasite
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Hail bishop with memory frail
wound up when night's sup d[r]owned pale ale,
in Tooting Bec Garden
sin rooting wreck, hard-on,
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From pulp to palpitation cycles spin.
Some trace a line or two, leaves from life's tree
imprint upon collective memory:
the music of the spheres, a melody
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Shower spray soothes suffering stunned soul.
Sensitivity’s slippery soap sensation store sends serendipity’s sun,
suddenly subtle cyphered successive subsurface sonar signals satisfaction strew,
strangely satiate, resuscitating successful sentimental sojourn.
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