It is in his pleasure that a man really lives it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.
quote by Agnes Repplier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is in his pleasure that a man really lives; it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.
quote by Agnes Repplier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrinkles
Wrinkles in time
trite phrase yet true
where life creates chaos
it leaves wrinkles in you
Furrows in fields
we pass along the way
while navigating roads
we must travel each day
All leave their mark
both inside and out
as we strive to comprehend
what life really is about
Holes in the fabric of time and space
equate to the wearing that in living takes place
With fabric and lives the choices seem the same
We can deal with challenges or merely place the blame
So whether wrinkles we bear
Or holes we must mend
We have tools at hand
It’s our choice in the end
poem by Mary Havran
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Feel My Love
Feeling of the love
Makes me to fly
Higher in the sky
Heart with pleasure
Without any leisure
Thinks you all-time
Passing days and night
Dreams may come true
To join with you
Whole life with joy
Ever and ever love of you
poem by Ayesha Farook
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Seconds Of Pleasure
You say you dont desire me,
Shes only a hired hand,
Now you are tired of me.
Expensive care is meaningless,
Feeling nothing and caring less.
Cut off at the pass,
She knows where you were headed,
She wants double-time or a temporary wedding.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she? with forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
I thought I knew you too well,
Now I find the man is a mystery,
And the promises you made
Are really only ancient history.
Everyday goes by without a hitch,
You say the urge becomes an itch.
You say that Im no go for you, thats rich,
Or am I being bitchy?
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
And the hands on the clock move so precisley,
You say you only kissed her once or twice.
You didnt do it for love, you didnt even do it with stealth.
I cant help you now,
I cant help myself.
Commited to life and then commuted to the outskirts.
I was living for thirty minutes at a time
With a break in the middle for adverts.
You treat me like a piece of human furniture.
You say when? you sad soul,
If you can look all that you like,
But I wont let you touch and poke.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she ? forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Saw a Little Boy Playing Without Toy
I saw a little boy
Playing without toy
He was merry and gay
In ecstasy, I can say
Undisturbed by worldly affairs
He assumed no airs
He played in dust
Almost lost in lust
Lust of playful pleasure
Enjoying time of leisure
Boy was very naughty
Feared not to get dirty
Enjoyed playing with sand
Taking sand in hand
Making and breaking
Structures of imagination
Throwing sand on his head and shoulders
Like a bravest of brave soldiers
He was playing in the sun
With unlimited fun
From here to there
There to here
Hither and thither
He skipped and jumped
With joy he popped
I saw him one day
But, he in my memory, stay
As a evergreen pleasure
And flashes when in leisure
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Joy and Pleasure
Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
poem by William Henry Davies
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On Himself
A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here,
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world; 'tis true
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:
One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he
Of all those three-score has not lived half three:
He lives who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Singing For The New Born
You're my life's treasure this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the fencing wind soothing
Saving all lives abound
Livening all lives so lovable..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's pleasure this day
So will ever be you all days
Like a blooming flower fragrant
Turning to a fruit yummy
Lovable much to all and whole..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's favour this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the new rains heavenly
Freshening the loam so lush
Lovely with lavish love adored..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's healer this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the handy salve treating
Healing the wounded well cured
Sought after much with needs..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's salvor this day
So will ever be you all days
Like a magician godly in a wink
Weeding the wild from peace field
Lovingly loving the whole world..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
For The Forthcoming New Year-
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Valley Of Tears
The fabric of our literature,
Interwoven with images to swing the muse;
Life and leisure,
Gods and heroes,
Of the Biblical polemic to teach others when,
We have a narrow cover to wrap up.
Antiochus Epiphanes,
Like the message od Herod the antipas;
Stammering lips to speak,
I am in the valley of tears!
The sounding of the trumpet,
In the assembly of the gods;
Ny ears caught a whisper when,
The spirits brushed past by.
Bodies of clay,
In the land of gods and heroes;
To pass through the middle of it like,
The loud cymbals of an unknown city.
An interwoven image,
Tears heavier than the sands of the sea;
Wisdom is for your mind,
Knowledge is for your being,
Understanding is for your guide,
A fabric from the noise of many waters!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Leisure Suit Serenade
Wearin old t-shirts and grubby jeans
People say I look kinda odd
Well, Im never accepted in the social set
cause they say that Im a clod
But once in a while, I go to my closet
And I put on something mod
And when I step out in my leisure suit
People stand up and applaud
Leisure suit serenade
Slip one on and you got it made
You better hope and pray that the colors dont fade
Thats the leisure suit serenade
Now, it dont matter if the collars bent
If its got nylon twenty percent
Now Im as cool as the asb president
Leisure suit serenade
Leisure suit serenade
Slip one on and you got it made
You better hope and pray that the colors dont fade
Thats the leisure suit serenade, oh yeah
Thats the leisure suit serenade
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Platina Prosperus Spiriteus
The Man whose Judgement Joynd with force of Witt
The lives of Popes & lives of Heroes writt
Who sung true Pleasure showd ye Golden mean
And taught Wild Youth to shun ye Lovers pain
Who wrote all this—Who more than this designd
All fine impressions of Celestial mind
That Man that Platina so lately fled
From earth to silent Darkness is not dead
Evn Death is here restraind ye stroke he gives
has killd the man ye Writer ever lives.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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When Dawn Arrives
He hums tonight through his streets,
My unlatched window the tune repeats,
The kerb-crawling car winds down to a stop.
A few seconds mumble then whisks him off.
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure.
He runs tonight through his block,
A crack in the curtain is unlocked.
No meeting with a mother or greeting a friend
A sharp-looking boot-jack with some time to spend.
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure.
He cries tonight
Through his manner
I can see his conscience
Get the better
From a door-way stepped in
Shadowed leather
Exchanging handshakes for money
And pleasure.
He crawls tonight through his scum,
From my dirty window his bodys numb.
Beneath the street-lamp tilts shoulders bent,
Then meets his pick-up who pays his rent.
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure.
His pleasure
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure; men love in haste but they detest at leisure.
quote by Byron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear and Pleasure
pain is the residuals of fear, there is no fear in
the absent of acceptance, for only the mind
can rebuke the suffering of the heart
as the truth comes in a most awaited moment of
your life, the wisdom identify the soul of where
the conscience lives, it is the fear of the Lord where
the wisdom begins; a complete vow and obedient
to the giver of knowledge would guide every pleasure
to overcome fear
entangled between fear and pleasure destroyed the
unifying force that strengthen each aura to a seeking
soul to feel and accept pleasure without fear
make this fear a pleasure of strength, for what
ever encountered pleasure the one who give this
fear, be pleasured in His creation
be the pleasure be assured that what make best
for everybody may leads us to the unity of the soul
that lives in each conscience we possess
the fearless warriors has awaken the pleasure that
the Lord God bestowed, never fear of what pleasure
comes in your life, harmonize the soul with in your
conscience and live the body with the heart that exist
a fear that brings pleasure is a human impulse of
what to become worthy to the kingdom of the God, for
what ever is given, is a gift received and be shared
to all mankind..... and the acceptance brings us to
the pleasure without fear
poem by Antonio Liao
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Grief walks upon the heels of pleasure; married in haste, we repent at leisure.
quote by William Congreve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Our Lives
Written by John Mellencamp
Well I'm a middle-aged teenager
I'm a man of angst and leisure
Doin' the best that I can do
My problems are incorrect
I've always got it around my neck
Hey I'm just like you
Yeah I've done some good and I've done some bad
But the most fun that I ever had
Was singing my songs for you
And if I should go astray
I'd get down on my knees and pray
Say God forgive me for what I do
Oh in our lives
There's no right way for us to live it
You know in our lives
There's a time to cry and a time to forget it
Well I'm a broke down humble man
Baby that's just who I am
And that's from me to you
Well I feel good here
Got about a million more years
To do what it is I gotta do
And if some day you happen to be passin' my way
Say hi, hello, how are you
Well, I'll return the gesture in kind
And hope that things are fine
And you all just do what you gotta do
Oh in our lives
There's no right way for us to live it
Oh in our lives
There's a time to cry and a time to get with it
You know in our lives there's no right way for us to live it.
Well I'm a broke down humble man
That's just who I am
And that's from me to you
Yeah I'm a broke down humble man
Yeah that's just who I am
And that's from me to you
Oh in our lives
You know in our lives
Yeah in our lives there's no right way for us to live it
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thinkers
On thinking you are fine is another book,
Of every little pleasure I see and seek,
For the plant to grow as ever to speak and
Live a long, long life to always keep.
I think that your soldier is braver and more on
The blessing of human danger. Much is the
Expansion, the Just Upbringing that gave and forgave
the lesson of human help.
Still the thinker can believe that simultaneous laughter
Can rid the planet of pleasure and leisure;
But not it is. It is more than pleasing to confer and
Destroy for All Time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Leisure is pleasure.
You must earn you rest
To see a beauty,
to hear a song
or to read classics
Leisure is pleasure
23.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Good schools underpin not only our economy, but the social fabric of our lives.
quote by Donald L. Carcieri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Refrain
Of all the songs which poets sing
The ones which are most sweet
Are those which at close intervals
A low refrain repeat;
Some tender word, some syllable,
Over and over, ever and ever,
While the song lasts,
Altering never,
Music if sung, music if said,
Subtle like some golden thread
A shuttle casts,
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With the golden hue.
Oh! of all the songs sung,
No songs are so sweet
As the songs with refrains,
Which repeat and repeat.
Of all the lives lived,
No life is so sweet,
As the life where one thought,
In refrain doth repeat,
Over and over, ever and ever,
Till the life ends,
Altering never,
Joy which is felt, but is not said,
Subtler than any golden thread
Which the shuttle sends
In and out in a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all the lives lived,
Can be no life so sweet,
As the life where one thought
In refrain doth repeat,
"Now name for me a thought
To make life so sweet,
A thought of such joy
Its refrain to repeat."
Oh! foolish to ask me. Ever, ever
Who loveth believes,
But telleth never.
It might be a name, just a name not said,
But in every thought; like a golden thread
Which the shuttle weaves
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all sweet lives,
Who can tell how sweet
Is the life which one name
In refrain doth repeat?
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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