Tale Of Paradise Reflects Upon Poetry's Chaste White Walls Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

True offspring of pure poet's pen
As unclaimed orphans wait till when
Line's links are stimulated, trace
Each ph[r]ase in roundelay's embrace.
Once catalyzed, and only then,
Find we without tri[s]te mise en scène
Purity Time can't deface,
A note in tune with Time and Space.
Reality? Hallucinogen?
As senses swirl clock seems suspen.
Drawn in, laid out, both breath and verse,
Impact intense all should rehearse,
Subject of, to, experience?
Echo imagination, sense?
Reflection fair? rhyme? prose perverse?
Epic dramatic, haiku terse?
Flow grows at nobody's expense,
Links old to new with no pretense,
Extending themes, dreams universe
Creative. Centuries traverse
To future from the present tense,
Sustains ideas, ideals immense.

Underwriting bards of old
Pure poetry need ne'er grow [c]old.
Of course, new meanings may appear,
Need reference points, text should stay clear
Providing into story told
Outstanding insight all behold
Excluding copies insincere
That plagiary posts to pay small beer.
Refusing censor's stranglehold
Your poet chimes rhymes manifold,
See soul's script magic skywards steer.

Chaste white walls border pristine page
Hibernating in purity
As, from judgemental values free,
Signal slumbers, till siren sage
Time calls, walls fall, all's filled in; cage
Empties when pen pursues mind's key.
Whitewash blushes. Absentee,
Harsh ego hides pride's head off-stage
In shame, game-playing off the page!
To self stay true, coeur et esprit,
Enshrines ideals effortlessly.

Write pure sustainability,
Authentic creativity,
Links and ensures. Enduring gage
Leaves rant's spree to precocious age,
'Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste' waste fee.