The New Omar
A Book of verses underneath the bough,
Provided that the verses do not scan,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou,
Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man.
But let the wine be unfermented, Pale,
Of chemicals compounded, God knows how-
This were indeed the Prophet's Paradise,
O Paradise were Wilderness enow.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
The New Omar
A Book of verses underneath the bough,
Provided that the verses do not scan,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou,
Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man.
But let the wine be unfermented, Pale,
Of chemicals compounded, God knows how--
This were indeed the Prophet's Paradise,
O Paradise were Wilderness enow.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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A Book of Verses undeneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness- Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread-and thou.
quote by Edward Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, I: 1-3, V: 12-15, 19-24, 71-72
1
Wake! For the Sun, who scattered into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes
The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
2
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why nods the drowsy Worshiper outside?"
3
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open, then, the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."
12
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
13
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
14
Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
15
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turned
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
19
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropped in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
20
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
21
Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears
Today of past Regrets and future Fears:
Tomorrow!--Why, Tomorrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.
22
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath pressed,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.
23
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?
24
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!
71
The Moving Finger writes, and, having writ,
Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
72
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawlingcooped we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I.
poem by Edward Fitzgerald
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A Cider Song
To J.S.M.
The wine they drink in Paradise
They make in Haute Lorraine;
God brought it burning from the sod
To be a sign and signal rod
That they that drink the blood of God
Shall never thirst again.
The wine they praise in Paradise
They make in Ponterey,
The purple wine of Paradise,
But we have better at the price;
It's wine they praise in Paradise,
It's cider that they pray.
The wine they want in Paradise
They find in Plodder's End,
The apple wine of Herford,
Of Hafod Hill and Herford,
Where woods went down to Herford,
And there I had a friend.
The soft feet of the blessed go
In the soft western vales,
The road of the silent saints accord,
The road from heaven to Herford,
Where the apple wood of Herford
Goes all the way to Wales.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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A Drinking Song
poetry flows from my heart
the way wine gurgles
into this fine crystal glass
dancing with the moon
clinking to a lonesome night
the riveting sublime light
sparkles like the beauty of verses
sip by sip the light flows into me
line by line spirited verses
oozes from my heart
the essence distillled from
matters of heart and soul
my love, would you pour me wine
vintage wine from that bottle
that has caroused with time
to give us its real wonder?
through it i see the beauty
of the world as verses flow
from a seasoned heart that has
twisted, whaltzed, swung, rocked with time
inspired by
A Drinking Song
WINE comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
William Butler Yeats
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Will Not Win Him
Reason says,
I will win him with my eloquence.
Love says,
I will win him with my silence.
Soul says,
How can I ever win him
When all I have is already his?
He does not want, he does not worry,
He does not seek a sublime state of euphoria -
How then can I win him
With sweet wine or gold?
He is not bound by the senses -
How then can I win him
With all the riches of China?
He is an angel,
Though he appears in the form of a man.
Even angels cannot fly in his presence -
How then can I win him
By assuming a heavenly form?
He flies on the wings of God,
His food is pure light -
How then can I win him
With a loaf of baked bread?
He is neither a merchant, nor a tradesman -
How then can I win him
With a plan of great profit?
He is not blind, nor easily fooled -
How then can I win him
By lying in bed as if gravely ill?
I will go mad, pull out my hair,
Grind my face in the dirt -
How will this win him?
He sees everything -
how can I ever fool him?
He is not a seeker of fame,
A prince addicted to the praise of poets -
How then can I win him
With flowing rhymes and poetic verses?
The glory of his unseen form
Fills the whole universe
How then can I win him
With a mere promise of paradise?
I may cover the earth with roses,
I may fill the ocean with tears,
I may shake the heavens with praises -
none of this will win him.
There is only one way to win him,
this Beloved of mine -
Become his.
In the spirit of Rumi: 74: Bliss
and they asked him, master,
tell us about bliss…
and he smiled as if
within himself, he heard the
angels laughing at the blameless
comedy of human life
bliss, he said, is where you find it…
as, when one day, you’re so hungry
that a meal fit for gods and kings
is a loaf of warm, fresh-baked bread;
a jug of wine that doesn't ask a label;
maybe a piece of local cheese, why not,
the meal which in olden times,
was called ‘short commons’ in some tongues,
that every innkeeper would offer free
to the weary, dust-stained traveller
as one would offer to one’s god
in thanks for life and sustenance…
saying, there’s a shady tree out there,
go and sit beneath it in the cool…
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine… and Thou..
Thou who appearest in so many forms
always beside me;
Thou who made the bread, its daily freshness
as if the morning made it from the desert dew;
who made the wine’s slow miracle;
who made the jug – the metaphoric clay of life
made moist with love, fired hard by love…
who made the tree which shades you as you eat;
who, the meal finished, waits for your gratitude
so as to know that all He made, is good…
and who then offers - as silently as sand beneath your feet,
as silently as cool air moves around the tree’s light shade,
as silently as ripening figs blush on the branch above you,
as silently as roses live their scented life,
as still as morning dawns, or evening shades -
Himself, as bliss; where for a moment as you sit,
there is no thing in all His world
to be desired; for All is here..
there in the heart, the sweetest taste of His
so intricate and jewelled simplicity.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
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A Picture Of Greed
on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread
on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread
a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread
then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth
the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Santa Barbara is a paradise; Disneyland is a paradise; the U.S. is a paradise. Paradise is just paradise. Mournful, monotonous, and superficial though it may be, it is paradise. There is no other.
quote by Jean Baudrillard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Alley
Come on in, have a look around
Hang your hat and find a chair
The pretty women smile at you
The partys just beginning
Theres music everywhere
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Brothers got to stick together here
Fight with one, you fight with three
The family blood is thick as mud
Day to day the world keeps spinning
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
It reminds you of who you used to be
And who you are, and who youll always be
It finds you in pursuit of dreams
And hopeless schemes
Life is richer than it seems
Nothing like being in a womans arms
The one you love, the one you want
Theres one small problem, who can she be
I feel like winning her in paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Im gonna take you there
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Im gonna take you there
Take you to the paradise
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Quiet In Here
Foghorns blowing in the night
Salt sea air in the morning breeze
Driving cars all along the coastline
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
The warm look of radiance on your face
And your heart beating close to mine
And the evening fading in the candle glow
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here. so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, yeah, so peaceful in here
All my struggling in the world
And so many dreams that dont come true
Step back, put it all away
It dont matter, it dont matter anymore
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
A glass of wine with some friends
Talking into the wee hours of the dawn
Sit back and relax your mind
This must be, this must be, what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
Oh this must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Big ships out in the night
And were floating across the waves
Sailing for some other shore
Where we can be what we wanna be
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Baby its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, you can hear, its so quiet
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sandrine Sonnet Cycle - Sonnet CXXVII Parody Shakespeare, Edward Fitzgerald
So turn to old Khayyam and from his cup
Allow yourself to sup while time remains;
Now sip the wine, take bread and verses up,
Drink deep of love till Time Time’s servants claims.
Remember that the couch on which you sit
Is soon to seat new tenants in your stead.
Neglect not what one whit improves life’s wit,
Exclude naught unwrought you’ll regret when sped.
Verse vehicles the message, bread sustains,
And wine enhances till it summons sleep: -
If three in one combine, contentment reigns,
Love flourishes, then nourishes, none weep.
Like old Fitzgerald, this speeds to the press,
ANd To distress aims not, nor to impress.
28 October 1992
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Paradise
(n. rodgers/g. smith)
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Are you looking for some place you can be free
Are you looking, looking for someone you want to be
You ran away from home girl - searching for your shangri-la
Wherever you may roam girl in my mind you wont be far
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Youre a prisoner inside a gilded cage
You keep praying sayin there must be a better way
Youve got the best intentions of this I dont have any doubts
I cant help but to mention dont you know what lifes about
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
Paradise is what youre looking for
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neighbours
My neighbour has a field of wheat
And I a rood of vine;
And he will give me bread to eat,
And I will give him wine.
And so we are a jolly pair,
Contentedly unwed,
Singing with supper as we share
Red wine and crusty bread.
Now venison is mighty meat
And so is trout and hare;
A mallard duck is sweat to eat
And quail is dainty fare.
But such are foods for festal day,
And we will not repine
While on the table we can lay
Crisp bread and rosy wine.
A will to till one's own of soil
Is worth a kingly crown,
With bread to feed the belly need,
And wine to wash it down.
So with my neighbour I rejoice
That we are fit and free,
Content to praise with lusty voice
Bread, Wine and Liberty.
poem by Robert William Service
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Summer In Paradise
Way back when well our master plan
Was havin fun fun fun as americas band
Well we came out rockin with rhonda and barbara ann
Singin of surf and sand
Now when we look back over all the fun we had
If our lifestyles over now it sure is sad
We gotta get back to livin without a care
Give me sunshine water and an ozone layer
Paradise is a state of mind
Where mother nature nurtures and man is kind
We need a change now wouldnt it be nice
If we could bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
They chop down the forests
And in their haste leave a trail of destruction
And toxic waste is leavin no one safe
In their home or their habitat
Cant let it go like that
Too much consumption and too much greed
When you consider all the people
That are livin in need
Interdependence in this world is a natural fact
And were all under attack
Its the eve of destruction or so they say
But mankind doesnt have to go that way
If we all get together we can make things right
And we can bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
Surfers recycle now dont you know
Like evryone from california to kokomo
Were gonna keep on rockin
And raisin world consciousness
We gotta fix this mess
Looked in the future and what I saw
Was a world in harmony with natural law
Theres trouble now but it will be alright if we can
Bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Causal Chains - Victims
Causal Chains - Victims
I
Crash victims are constrained to change of plan,
their karmic threads led to one time, one place,
who won nor great renown, nor state of grace,
no statement made, no grade, - trapped also-ran.
Smash victims: ordinary girl or man
whose function filled a causal void to trace
world's tipping point as joint between Earth, space,
catalyzing universal plan.
Dash victims subject to a searching scan,
still fill a fulcrum role on which to base
a change of pace for all the human race
tripping switch to hitch 'we wish', 'we can! '
Though victims' stars from headlines disappeared
flash accident safe guidelines pionneered...
II
Crash victim once was mother of fair five
who now mourn visage torn before its time
from hearth and home to starry dome - alive
remaining in hearts aching at that crime.
Smash victim, mother to statistic turned
by accident as luck and life ebbed out,
dust dust returned ignores love's merits earned
ensuring offspring should not do without.
Dash victim seem both she who saw hopes crushed
and he who rushed towards unwanted fate,
mirth into earth conveyed light laughter hushed -
two families impacted on that date.
Both mourning irresponsibility
can't put clocks back, derail eternity.
III
Crushed victim seemed an ordinary man
whose sojourn saw so few fond hopes come true,
who met forgetfulness out of the blue -
banns cancelled out by error all should ban.
Smash victim seemed an ordinary man
swift 'hither hurried whence? ' drew scarlet spew, -
no damsel, book of verse, oasis dew,
but flask unasked tipped fate, unzipped life's fan.
Rush victim seemed an ordinary man,
yet all horizons filled for favoured few
who now must fend as best they can, eschew
bitter revenge 'spite wits at end, crushed span.
When victim's star imploded in black hole
could light carve curved nerve path preserving soul?
27 March 2008 1st sonnet revised 11 November 2008 3rd sonnet revised and expanded 20 April 2009 2nd sonnet
robi3_1724_robi3_0000 SXX_DJX
see also
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam - Edward Fitzgerald
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
XXI
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.
XXX
What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
LXVII
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in the Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I heard thy verses
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine,
text lines thank thine Italian fettuccini,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.
Thy bare feet on grapes dance for wine,
Bound to thee my greed for baked panini,
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.
Thy radish desire - in veins is flow malign,
dance fayre amid spud and fresh zucchini,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.
Thy casseroles enjoy thee, as I be on line,
dare to kisse thy big toe- al dente linguini,
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.
Oh, fayre maiden thy kisse doe not decline,
Thy coles 'n' lettuce I love, wear a beanie,
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine.
Thou doe not cook bacon wearing a bikini,
thy squash embrac'd art, e'er to enshrine.
I heard thy verses amidst thine aubergine.
tho' slightly thy melon guiled my arccosine
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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