Citatepedia^®.com

Vocation, Evocation, Revocation... Correlations

To be or not to be? the question's put
in hamlet and in town, by gown or jeans,
by promise which seemed once so full of beans -
'til walking shadow gutters lamp turned soot.
Life's slings and arrows slay both those on foot
and those whose mounted pride soon falls, what paens
outlast fate's payday voiding ways and means,
both rich and poor soon trampled underfoot.
Set to heart's tune Time rhymes with infinite,
and yet what bud, once blown, may Lethe's night
turn into cheerful dawn? In pawn our souls
grasp straws too soon foreclosed as pauper, knight
descend from scope to end, ambition's blight.
no traveller returns to stoke life's coals...

Can purblind moth reeled onwards to bright wick,
in fretful riot weave round warning flame,
of its will still frenetic dance to pick
hair point dividing failure from fame.
Where 'heart to heart though far apart' would lick
the ice cream cone affection offers, tame
turns wild when 'absence fonder heart' draws, lame
familiarity breeds... fiddlestick! ,
counters good intents in heaven's name
to pave the road to hell's dark tocsin tick.
Winged inspiration sheds both fear and shame,
rings true through recognition trust not trick
must spin lens' wheels which stitch life's photo frame.
Attraction linking on a higher plane
removes the need for questions', answers', rei[g]n.

We strut upon Life’s page, whatever claim
each stakes is soon revoked as Time, untrue
to first impressions, modifies life’s game,
tints contact lenses we think we see through.
Observe vain beauty’s triumph on youth’s stage
feel force turn age, through rage lose sage control, -
One sees how Faust to Satan could engage
essentials of an ‘everlasting soul’.
Today, tomorrow, past and future, merge
within time's haze as days from daze advance,
now dart, now part, now urge, now purge, now surge,
in tango of contango spurred by 'Chance'.
If candle represents both Life and Time,
Man’s Fate is fall preceded by vain climb.

One wonders if attraction offers clues
to questions, answers, - existential lure, -
both waiting in gestation to refuse,
accept, delay, pay, play as sinecure.
Is fantasy what we affection name
as love which hand in glove with need sounds sweet,
attenuates life’s jungle’s ruthless game,
and tints the lover’s glasses lest we cheat
Death’s threats through disillusion premature.
Destiny's spun thread sped Time must cut
for reasons which to mortals seem obscure,
which fit in puzzle pattern's piecemeal rut
to knit tomorrows which mature too fast
as all at last acknowledge naught can last.

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!