One Heart Feels Finger Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

One heart feels finger tapping
deep spring of wisdom wide,
one heart feels finger mapping
bright spirit from inside,

One heart beat’s finger beckons
beyond both time and space,
one heart one finger reckons
calm, balm and saving grace.

One heart, one finger, giggle
together in traced hug,
each interlaced reach wriggle
as snug as bug in rug.

One heart with finger sharing
unbroken hopes and trust
one heart on finger wearing
fair token of shared lust.

One kiss surrounds a dimple,
one heals mind’s heart-ache scar
with touch profound as simple
to wish upon a star.

One circle, two shared pulses
grasp how, why, where, when, whence,
one quickens wave, impulses
romance, knows no expense.

One heart feels finger’s passion
trace out horizons blue,
new pastures green none ration
stretch out beyond all view

to marry in their fashion
life’s gleams and dreams come true
here joy, and there compassion,
unite in curlicue

where neither led nor leader
pollute the atmosphere,
where both are fed and feeder
in double helix sphere.

One rhythm understanding
the other’s inner beat
while no reply outstanding
is needed to complete

one with one hand-in-handing
faith’s flambeau – each in each
unselfish, undemanding
combine to over reach

old frontiers, hot tears landing
on starving sands, - cold beach
where chide or pride commanding,
tried coloured dreams to bleach.

One rhythm strings to nourish,
one soul decyphers tune,
together they may flourish
as inner song reads rune.

One need not silence shatter
where way beneath the skin
osmosis into matter
converts two spirits kin.

Two tend as one in passion
to fuel eternal fire
emotions neither ration
'to grasp the scheme entire.'

One into one now merges -
no need t[w]o pull the stops -
both sense, as signal surges,
shared energy ne’er drops

One through, from, one emerging,
together surging sing,
no artifice, no urging
is needed, purging sting.

One pace effects and causes
may bridge - a bridge of size -
won [t]race which knows no pauses,
dismantles [b]ridge of sighs.

One finger prints unforfeit
on one heart timeless trace -
one finger’s painted portrait
upon Love's dreaming face.

The writer reels astounded
as lines to heady wines
transform a mind once grounded
to inflight sight which signs

no rosy tint unfounded,
no logic drear, austere,
but finds himself surrounded
by rhyme chimes loud and clear

which tripple ripples, bounded
by nothing insincere,
as stanzas unconfounded
suspend themselves just here …


Jonathan Robin 11 April 2005 and 19 December 2006