Poetry of the Web

Welcome to the poetry of David B. Robinson. Writing has the ability to inspire men to great deeds and may speak of what exists or what may be. Often it may communicate, in and of itself, so for right now we shall let it do that in an original poem or two.

Party of the Animals

The lightly-shining ivy vine

Runs down the garden wall

Until it comes to underline

An earthen, rambling scrawl.

'Twas left by busy creatures here,

The animals about,

When jay, the cawing chevalier,

Flew down to slaken drought.

The saurians, now conquering fear,

Emerged from dim retreats

To gather in the festal sphere--

A lizardation meet.

A brown squirrel ran the tightrope act

High over the wee dell.

The party, now matter-of-fact,

Was really something swell.

A woodpecker upon a tree

Told just once that it's a gyp

--An undeclared hyperbole,

By landing for a nip.

A dog was standing on patrol

And barked a quick assent,

Bypassing all the rigmarole

Of the Establishment.

So happily they did carouse;

They all live in content,

Foregoing all the darker boughs

To vie in wonderment.

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The Hubbub on New Year

I came to look out my window,

And I saw that the mead was not sere;

The blooms were all cold and covered

With brown, from snows of the new year.

A gaberdined lady went by;

Another came clanging her gong,

Uplifted in a finespun frock,

And singing an old robust song.

Hence, went I to Time's dominion,

And I asked the ruling cherub,

To cancel his domination,

'Please master your noisome hubbub.'

The snows started dropping rightly,

Prerequisites thus completed,

And Miss Noisy, once abiding,

Without heard her name repeated.

Now many apt ladies pass me,

Professing faith in my assay;

Yea, I while away a season

And gaze in that charming way.

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