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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
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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

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.

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?"

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."

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!

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!

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."

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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?

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!

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.

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 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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Causal Chains - Victims

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...

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

Wilderness Flower

Wilderness flower
Wilderness flower
Beautiful in its innocent blue
In morning young hour
And rain falling shower
Your color is sweetness so true

Like pearls on spring earth
With glowing of light
Each pure and so worth
In arrangement and sight

Wilderness flower
Wearing its headdress so right
My love calls to you

(In the Icelandic wilderness, the first sign of spring are the little flowers you see everywhere – in their blossoming freedom)

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Little Black Eagle

Wilderness, weld, ends, sin, sins, seen, wild, wilder, wed, is, deer, dress, seeds, side;
And like a lion in the forest!
But, do not hide your love away from me.

Wilderness, see, sees, seer, send, seers, sends, sides, rein, in, seed, weeds, less;
And like a speckled bird of prey!
But do not hide your love away from me.

Wilderness, reeds, end, sine, weed, drew, welder, wine, sew, dine, reed, sews, wire!
And to find out why you are behaving that way to the people around;
For the pool of your love is like the black eagle on a hill far away! !

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Within Paradise Landscapes

we are the wilderness
the wilderness is us
deserts are paradises

of possibility awaiting
return long departed
rains years missing

ever ready
to flower
in instant rain

into vast desert seas
of flower blooms
within paradise landscapes

of all bliss minded
to swim river wind
flows of desert flowers

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Wilderness

Wilderness, wild, dress, deer, reeds, seeds, needs, in, dine, weeds, din, lines;
But to foretell the future belongs to the Creator! !
For we have all sinned and have come short of His Glory.

Wilderness, sine, wide, lesser, sin, is, less, red, den, led, wine, win, wise, rises;
We have to respect the way we live on this earth!
For there are laws and regulations;
But the future is always for the Creator.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Extinct

Wilderness,
Exrtnct,
Quenched;
With waters in the wilderness and rivers in the deserts!
But i have chosen you to be my wife,
And like the sun moving around us.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Simply put, I believe we should not seek the lowest common denominator when it comes to wilderness and saddle a wilderness designation with exceptions, exclusions, and exemptions.

quote by Nick Rahall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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The reality is that we're all in the wilderness, and we have to survive on our own, and things constantly change and if we don't accept that, then we're just trying to fool ourselves. But the beauty of wilderness is that sometimes you can wake up in the morning and feel so sweet and whole.

quote by Sophie B. Hawkins
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Voice In The Wilderness

My heart was so heavy with longing for you
My arms were so lonely, lonesome and blue
Alone in my sorrow, I heard a voice cry
A voice in the wilderness, a voice from the sky
Have faith in your darling, the voice seemed to say
Be true to her memory, shell come back one day
And though there was no-one, nobody to see
A voice in the wilderness brought comfort to me
We had a quarrel, I was unkind
Why did you leave me, love made me blind
Come back to me darling, I yearn for your touch
Have pity, come back now, I need you so much
Believe me and youll hear it, the voice from above
The voice in the wilderness, the voice of true love
Believe me and youll hear it, the voice from above
A voice in the wilderness, the voice of true love.

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madam Speaker, I have spent more than half my life as a member of the Resources Committee. In that time I have supported numerous wilderness designations. In fact, I cannot recall ever opposing a wilderness bill.

quote by Nick Rahall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Single Loaf Of Bread

A SINGLE LOAF OF BREAD

All these poems
And all this life
And all this endless writing
Do not buy
A single loaf of bread.

Measured by money
I mean minus forever.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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From Omar Khayyam

A BOOK of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
O, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

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!

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.'

And those who husbanded the Golden grain
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

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!

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and Future Fears:
To-morrow!--Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.

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?

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust unto Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!

III

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side....

Yon rising Moon that looks for us again--
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look or us
Through this same Garden--and for one in vain!

And when like her O Sákí, you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!

WITH blackest moss the flower-plots
   Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
   That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:
   Unlifted was the clinking latch;
   Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
   She only said, 'My life is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   I would that I were dead!'

Her tears fell with the dews at even;
   Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
She could not look on the sweet heaven,
   Either at morn or eventide.
After the flitting of the bats,
   When thickest dark did trance the sky,
   She drew her casement-curtain by,
And glanced athwart the glooming flats.
   She only said, 'The night is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   I would that I were dead!'

Upon the middle of the night,
   Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:
The cock sung out an hour ere light:
   From the dark fen the oxen's low
Came to her: without hope of change,
   In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn,
   Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn
About the lonely moated grange.
   She only said, 'The day is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   I would that I were dead!'

About a stone-cast from the wall
   A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small,
   The cluster'd marish-mosses crept.
Hard by a poplar shook alway,
   All silver-green with gnarled bark:
   For leagues no other tree did mark
The level waste, the rounding gray.
   She only said, 'My life is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   I would that I were dead!'

And ever when the moon was low,
   And the shrill winds were up and away,
In the white curtain, to and fro,
   She saw the gusty shadow sway.
But when the moon was very low,
   And wild winds bound within their cell,
   The shadow of the poplar fell
Upon her bed, across her brow.
   She only said, 'The night is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   I would that I were dead!'

All day within the dreamy house,
   The doors upon their hinges creak'd;
The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse
   Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,
Or from the crevice peer'd about.
   Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,
   Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices call'd her from without.
   She only said, 'My life is dreary,
   He cometh not,' she said;
   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,'
   I would that I were dead!'

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,
   The slow clock ticking, and the sound
Which to the wooing wind aloof
   The poplar made, did all confound
Her sense; but most she loathed the hour
   When the thick-moted sunbeam lay
   Athwart the chambers, and the day
Was sloping toward his western bower.
   Then, said she, 'I am very dreary,
   He will not come,' she said;
   She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary,
   O God, that I were dead!'

poem by Edward Fitzgerald
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Related quotes

The New Omar

The New Omar

From The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, I: 1-3, V: 12-15, 19-24, 71-72

A Picture Of Greed

Causal Chains - Victims

Wilderness Flower

Little Black Eagle

Within Paradise Landscapes

Wilderness

Extinct

In the spirit of Rumi: 74: Bliss

Neighbours

A Voice In The Wilderness

A Single Loaf Of Bread

From Omar Khayyam

En.Citatepedia^®.ro