Symbols To Song - Poets Try Poetry Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Poems channel syllables to song,
Opening wing valvelets which control
Each heart-string signals pulse neuronic, goal
Towards brain's keep sweep leaps synaptic throng.
Symbols swift deciphered can prolong
Triggered sensations subtle, coaxing coal
Red hot, to fiery fission, which keen soul
Yearns skeined yarns, hearts' heat, hopes fulfilling. Gong
Propagates through tympan tuning tong,
Outpours emotions. Poets share fair goal,
Expanding inklings into vision whole,
To catalyze communion, spirits strong.
Rest not upon old laurels, let fresh bays
Your spirit stir to set cold fires ablaze.


acrostic sonnet Poets Try Poetry
26 April 1990 revised 22 September 2008 ans 8 January 2012
robi03_0317_robi03_0000 ASX_IXX

previous version see below
Poems channel syllables to song,
Opening wing valvelets which control
Each heart-string, pulse neuronic signals, bowl
Towards brain's keep, with leaps synaptic, strong.
Symbols are deciphered to prolong
Trigger sensations shimmer subtle, coal
Red hot, in fiery fission, which the soul
Yearns with more heat to fill. Think how a gong
Propagates through ear gates - tuning tong
Outpours emotions. Poets have a goal,
Expanding inklings into vision whole,
To catalyze communion, calm wrong.
Rest not upon old laurels, let fresh bays
Your spirit stir to set cold fires ablaze.

acrostic sonnet Poets Try Poetry
26 April 1990 revised 22 September 2008
robi03_0317_robi03_0000 ASX_IXX

previous version see below

Symbols to Song - Poets try Poetry

P oems channel syllables to song,
O pening the valvelets which control
E ach heart-string, pulsing messages which bowl
T owards brain keep, with leaps synaptic, strong.
S ymbols are deciphered to prolong
T riggered sensations shimmering as coal
R ed hot, in fiery fission, which the soul
Y earns with more heat to fill. Think how a gong
P ropagates through ear gates, - tuning tong, -
O utpoured emotions. Poets have a goal,
E xpanding inklings into vision whole,
T o share the soul’s communion, mend wrong.
R est never on old laurels, let the bays
Y our spirit stir, to set cold fires ablaze...