Poetry Page 5 by Robert R. Cobb
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All my original material is protected by creator's copyright, according to this footnote: "Copyright protection subsists . . . in original works of authorship fixed in any tangible medium of expression, now known or later developed, from which they can be perceived, reproduced, or otherwise communicated, either directly or with the aid of a machine or device." 17 U.S.C. 102(a). "A work is "fixed" in a tangible medium of expression when its embodiment in a copy or phonorecord, by or under the authority of the author, is sufficiently permanent or stable to permit it to be perceived, reproduced, or otherwise communicated for a period of more than transitory duration." 17 U.S.C. 101.
Through the gossamer,
outside the amnion,
unfolding allantois and chorion
which formed their placental alliance,
nurtured my embryonic state 'till birth,
I struggle now to breathe new life
beyond the birth canal,
to dream new dreams of destinies,
and, to jump at the stars.
© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
Inside my cellular cocoon
of silken soft down,
life originated, became
a place of residence.Now that the fertile yolk,
shelled protection's shattered
my former abode, my shelter,
I search for a new place to reside
away from stormy weather.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Above the clouds
landmarks appear
revealing familiar forms
below my reach.On the ground,
beneath my feet,
warm sand is sifted now
at the beach.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Trees obscured by full moon-light
reveal the patterns seen,
a masked man, camoflaged,
armed with spear in hand
stalks his prey.Animal allies at his command
sniff the trail trace scents ahead.
With practiced stealth the triad narrows
the gap between them and the hunted.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Two Game Players sit
above a checkered board,
their game yet to be determined.
Whether one has won, the other lost,
love's game is orchestrated.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Cloaked in tapas,
stave in hand,
against a bleak
winter's sky,
the wizard contemplates.To turn back
to what is known,
or risk most certain death.
Take heed his pup has cried,
for I am at your side.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Twelve containers,
all, save one, sealed
and unrevealing.
What mysterious conudrums
may portend within eleven
Pandora's jars.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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The world they know
is filled with iconography,
symbols meant for them alone,
not meant for you and me.To decipher their mystic code,
one must first possess an Eye-Con key
to unlock the door behind where
lies the Eye-Con mystery.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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I wonder the significance
of this painted house
of La Provence.Was it Van Gogh's home,
or, where Gaugin stayed
for awhile, before he left
to paint in Tahiti isle?Or does this house
have other La Provence,
of an artist known less well,
the studio of Jean Penuel?© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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afterglow
scents
linger
heady
on our
bed.two
thoughts
together
became
as
one.once
empty
places
now
are
whole.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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as advertised,
is, "for sensitive skin,"
an "astringent" that
"deep cleans &
refreshes.""No other clean
feels quite like this."
Stroked over face,
neck, body skin,
it "cleans deep."Formulated with
balanced ingredients
to clean and soften,
tingles and refreshes,
invigorates, makes
you feel alive.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
( with homage to: "Bristol-Meyers Squibb Co., (c) 1993, N.Y., N.Y. 1014.
Made in U. S. A.")P.S. But seriously folks, especially, Shawn Hair, the painting "Sea
Breeze," is quite lovely, along with its obvious commercial
possibilities. Please forgive me for being flippant. I really do like
your work, Shawn. I hope you have a sense of humor.Robert
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sun-baked,
iron-rich,
Georgia clay,
red oxide,
Indian red,
abundant,
natural,
durable,
red road
ready
for travel
most any place,
point A<---to--->B.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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a
brief
glimpse,
au naturale,
posteriorally
captured by
the painter's
brush, hand,
and eyes
for all
time.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Triangulated across space,
spanned, suspended ethereally,
captured, unyielding forces strain
against the gyroscope's swaying
tensiometry, and the hand
that digitally manipulates
mankind's climate of despondence.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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The fallibility of man
is sure, ordained by original sin.
Thinking about playing the odds?
Or, room reserved for believers
in Christ Jesus' sacrifice?© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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(THE FACE OF TIME)
Sanity is but an imaginary dream,
hear the primal voice within-awake and scream.Memories, like fossil finger prints,
provide the evidence.That the past we recollect may be a lie,
as well as the future and present-tense.You came to me and gave so much,
is there still room to give me more?Pain becomes the virgin,
where pleasure is the whore.Time is a clock-maker's whim,
we must face and bear it.Seek the truth we hunger for,
that all may feed and share it.What makes the ancient sun blaze on
conjuring life-giving gods to everyone?Under time's water-shed face of tears,
we find reality too-is but a dream,dissolved,
in a salty sea.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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The archetype of Sistine's sky
painted from the scaffolding
during a six year forced ordeal,
commissioned by Pope Julius II,
Michelangelo's tormentor,
has found the brush of Julliette.Among the morphed mackerel
clouded void, renewed impetus -
the macrocosmic tug - of - war,
continues between man and pope.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Against the bone-white parched cliffs
carved and caressed by wind and sea,
undulating sand and stone forms
lie below table-top plateaus
echoing lost lovers' plaintive wails.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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A solitary tree
on a grassy plain
reaches branches
skyward, styling
soliloquies like,
"to be or not to be."© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Ethereal clouds above
an ethereal sea that washes
over an ethereal beach,
leaving ethereal sea shells
in its ethereal wake.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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A
desolate land
taking pride in
the singular presence
of its listing, lush, green
spruce
tree.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
The fallibility of man
if not swift is certainly felt
outside of Eden's garden-land
where original sin's hand was dealt
and snake-eyes rolled his loaded dice.Forbidden fruit was tasted twice
through Eve's bite shared with Adam's lips.
Ashamed, they each donned leaves a-trice
for Eve, once to gird Adam's hips.Progenitors of all nations hence,
violated God's Eden gift,
salvation lost, no recompence,
'till Jesus' Resurrection lift.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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What mysteries the tide
brings in like clock-working
over-time in pristine fashion
setting the stage, adjusting
ethereal lighting
on the bit-players,
flotsam and jetsam.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Her
mind
slumbers,
night-mares,
haunted by a
talking snake,
by fruit,
sweet
hopes
gone.
Adam
stirs,
Eve
awakens.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Layered
abstractions,
forms of luminosity,
once camouflaged,
now appear as courtesans
construing hints of royalty
in merging pigments, blue and green,
through invisible glazes, the Muse is seen.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Out of the soul's
deep dark recesses,
temptations' twisted tendrils
remain, no longer hidden
from mortal sight.The window opens
salvations' channel-lock,
allowing fish and drowning men
new life and hope eternally
through Christ's abundant light.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Contemplating warfare
strategy, hatred by design,
religious fervor, bigotry,
turmoils without end.Imagining a universe
at peace seems futile
to the warrior's task,
uniformed for battle,
he stands, blue-winged,
with sword in hand
awaiting prophecy.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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"Blowin' in the wind..."
wrote Dylan, "freedom is..."
Elusive, transparent, swift,
often suppressed.My face is uplifted,
to feel the spirit of the wind
and dream of freedom as its song
being breathed and listened to
by all God's children,
and other living things.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Asleep, she dreams,
clothed only by the stars
that illuminate her supple form's
ascension above dark eyes
gazing in the night.Where will her dreams
take this maiden on her flight?
Will she recall when she awakens
from this voyage, the dark eyes
gazing in the night?© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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If only fantasies came true
about castles far above the clouds
and four handsome princes waiting
for a comely lassess' lips that they may kiss.I'll not deny this maiden's wishes
nor detain her consummation dreams,
'twould be folley to interrupt her sleep
half-way to the sky.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Do you know my fantasies,
dream sequences revealed
within golden-brown foiled inlays
across a chine-colle` ribboned field?A broken, dotted matrix frames
the mystery held inside is stilled,
bound by bonds dominatrix tied
for the pleasure pains they yield.My fantasy 10 vibrates in tones,
symbolically arranged, rich golds and umbers,
figuratively set the circular rotating stage
upon which I greet my fantasies' 10 lovers.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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The "Day of Atonement"
and "Rapture" time is here.
Are you ready to be claimed
as one of His, ascending,
shining in His glory?Are you ready for God
to judge all your secrets?
Can you comprehend your final place?
Will you be among the shining saved,
or suffer the fate of the lost?© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Could it be the altar
or the alter-ego that draws her,
moth-like to a flame?
Whose presence does she gather in,
to seek what unseen deity?
Is she paying homage to a noble king,
a worthy saint, a pagan queen?
The candlelight that flickers
chiaroscuros 'round her face
provides few clues or answers
as to her state of grace.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Silly hat haute couture
with nested bird and veil
atop her head.A silly woman
who's silly thoughts
fly everywhere.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Fixing a moment in time
repairs no seconds,
minutes, hours that pass,
nor days, weeks, months,
nor years.Nothing truely mends
broken hearts that time forgets
nor the eyes which shed the tears
that long ago have dried."Time", it's said," heals all things."
I wonder if that's always true,
why time stands still on faces
painted before 6:00 o'clock
remains well past
when prime-time
was new.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Apparitions are seldom
what they appear to be.
They are ghostly white lies
wearing translucent skin
that never quite hides
their underlying sin.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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She's caught between
the warp and weft
of this woven fantasy,
a catch 22 tapestry
of truth and lies.Beaded and banded,
shackled, suspended,
disarmed and vulnerable
to voyeuristic eyes,
she awaits abuse.An etherized moth,
pinned to a board,
boxed for display,
neatly labeled
"catch #22."© 2000 by Robert R. Cobb
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From the fertile depths
of Safa Bute's mind,
his eye for infinity,
recurring themes
incorporating
dreamer's
stories,
icons,
symbols,
fantasies,
nude women,
colorful fishes,
shackles and bolts,
dots, patterns, circles,
boundaries, and bondage,
voyeuristic eyes, richly-laid
multi-layered tapestries,
chine-colle` reflections,
images of a mis-spent
youth in an endless,
ever circular quest
for the answers
revealed in red
shining fish.© 2000 by Robert R. Cobb
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i have seen you
before
in a dream
alien woman
do you visit
other men too...
enticing them
with your
verdant
skin?© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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tall
thick
twisting
strong
against
the wind.
i climb up
through your
leafy green bower
seeking jack's castle tower.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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Who knows how green new pastures are,
should I choose to mosey afar?
Or, attempt a second-hand glance,
apologize for looks askance?I propose a smoother entrance,
preferring a peace dove-like stance,
as opposed to fractious brawling spats,
let's soothe whatever aches, perchance.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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A mystery, woman
you remain, toweled
in your acronym,
Amethyst, your aka.
I have read and love
your poetry, wondering
if we have crossed paths before
in another life's acronym, AOL.
An Amethyst, who proudly wore
her scarlet "A" and, little more
I know of her, save poetic
transmissions, that one morning,
mysteriously, were etherized, no reasons
nor apologies from AOL's poetry board.
Perhaps you are that self-styled "A"
reborn as "MJM," continuing
an "Amethyst Journey" in another life.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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on the side of a mountain, just off a trail.
on a see-saw
on a treadmill
in a tunnel of love
on a motorcycle
in a hot tub
in a jail cell
in a dormitory
in a monastery
in a nunnery
in a row-boat, canoe
on a boat dock
in a sand-trap
in a wading pool
in a sauna
on a bar
bare-skinned on a bear skin
in a hot air balloon
on a scaffold
in a parking garage
on a statue
in a movie theatre
in a pyramid
in a coffin
in a morgue
in an igloo
on a rope bridge
on a church pew
in a hay-loft
on a bed of straw
on a tractor
a bowling lane
on a pitcher's mound
under goal posts
on a bed in a department store
on a bean-bag chair
on a dentist's chair
on a barber's chair
in an art gallery
on a blanket watching fireworks.© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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I know not whereof I speak,
nor if the speakers hear,
only that once upon a time
they spoke melodiously clear.They played too long
upon Jerry's ears
loud deafening songs
that silenced them now
to quiet soft tears.Will any restorative powers
provide the circuitry to again
unleash their sound again for hours?
Or, failing, stillness there remain?In other words,
what's the verdict?
old speakers brought to life anew,
Or buy brand new speakers,
what's the edict?Peace & Love,
Dad, (who is currently stressed-out by far more depressing situations.)
© 2000, by Robert R. Cobb
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