No. 51
To me that man seems like a god in heaven,
seems--may I say it?--greater than all gods are,
who sits by you & without interruption
watches you, listens
to your light laughter, which casts such confusion
onto my senses, Lesbia, that when I
gaze at you merely, all of my well-chosen
words are forgotten
as my tongue thickens & a subtle fire
runs through my body while my ears deafened
by their own ringing & at once my eyes are
covered in darkness!
Leisure, Catullus. More than just a nuisance,
leisure: you riot, overmuch enthusing.
Fabulous cities & their sometime kings have
died of such leisure.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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Him Rival to the Gods I Place
Him rival to the gods I place,
Him loftier yet, if loftier be,
Who, Lesbia, sits before thy face,
Who listens and who looks on thee;
Thee smiling soft. Yet this delight
Doth all my sense consign to death;
For when thou dawnest on my sight,
Ah, wretched! flits my labouring breath.
My tongue is palsied. Subtly hid
Fire creeps me through from limb to limb:
My loud ears tingle all unbid:
Twin clouds of night mine eyes bedim.
Ease is my plague: ease makes thee void,
Catullus, with these vacant hours,
And wanton: ease that hath destroyed
Great kings, and states with all their powers.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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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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Leisure
(andy partridge)
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
As you see,
Science once again robs us of our jobs.
Theyve put a micro-chip in my place,
I hide behind screen of aggression nowadays,
Its just a way of saving some face.
So now Im permanently drunk,
Like the rest of the race with,
Leisure.
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
I spend all day,
And all my allowance on t.v. games.
Amusement heaven at the flick of a switch.
Instead of a lathe I busy my fingers nowadays,
By scoring goals with the gentlest twitch.
Ive forgotten how to use my legs to invade the pitch.
Leisure
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
They had retired me fore I left school,
(just saw no point in the standing in line)
So I spend lots of time lounging at home,
(why not come in cos the carpet is fine)
What a waste of breath it is,
Searching for the jobs that dont exist.
So now Im permanently drunk,
Like the rest of the race with,
Leisure.
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
Lazybones, looking through the sun
Howd you ever expect to find your days work ...?
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leisure is the time for doing something useful. This leisure the diligent person will obtain the lazy one never.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Lesbia (after Sappho)
I say not not Helios burns so strong,
I say he outshines the flickering sun
when your laughter's radiance falls on him there,
trembling before you;
the song draws the soul from my body, it
shakes me with wanting and fear, because when I
see you I arch to the stars and dissolving I
fade into darkness,
and now, like a mawkish boy, I stammer,
pale flame veins my flesh and my ears ring
crazy in chimes and night veils my eyes,
failing such brightness.
Languor, Catullus, destroys you. Look out!
Languor ripens your womanish ease.
Languor before has ruined great kings,
laid waste happy cities.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods is a means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure.
Thorstein Veblen in Theory of the Leisure Class (1899)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm never less at leisure than when at leisure, or less alone than when alone.
quote by Scipio Africanus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come to Work
Leisure-lovers, looking for
Exotic reasons to explore
The mystery of recent past
Strap on your watches, strive
To look a little nine-to-five
And be Industrial at last
Don’t look as if you’d shirk
Our next activity: To Work-
A game I’m sure you’ll grasp
Get into working rhythm, find
Dancing to The Daily Grind
The ultimate in hip-hop blast
Toss off your miniscule computers
Mingle with these old commuters
Join them in their ancient task
Find bliss – a new emphatic thrill
Behind this old pneumatic drill
And give it your ghetto blast
The natives of this odd time-spot
Are leisure-seeker-friendly, not
All against lane-living Fast
They..their stress in Union
Strikes – a kind blest communion
Under Holy Mentor, Marx.
If it’s your quirk then please frolic
In sun of work, be workaholic
Drink from it labour flask
Well, work-fantasists, a pleasure
It has been to guide your leisure
I must sleep now - kavlast!
poem by John a'Beckett
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Ad Lesbiam
Equal to Jove that youth must be-
Greater than Jove he seems to me-
Who, free from Jealousy's alarms,
Securely views thy matchless charms;
That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,
That mouth, from whence such music flows,
To him, alike, are always known,
Reserved for him, and him alone.
Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me,
I cannot choose but look on thee;
But, at the sight, my senses fly,
I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;
Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,
Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support,
Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread,
With deadly languor droops my head,
My ears with tingling echoes ring,
And life itself is on the wing;
My eyes refuse the cheering light,
Their orbs are veil'd in starless night:
Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,
And feels a temporary death.
poem by Catullus, translated by Byron
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Illness and Idleness
Illness and idleness give me much leisure.
What do I do with my leisure, when it comes?
I cannot bring myself to discard inkstone and brush;
Now and then I make a new poem.
When the poem is made, it is slight and flavourless,
A thing of derision to almost every one.
Superior people will be pained by the flatness of the metre;
Common people will hate the plainness of the words.
I sing it to myself, then stop and think about it ...
The Prefects of Soochow and Peng-tse
Would perhaps have praised it, but they died long ago.
Who else would care to hear it?
No one today except Yuan Chen,
And he is banished to the City of Chiang-ling,
For three years an usher in the Penal Court.
Parted from me by three thousand leagues
He will never know even that the poem was made.
A Bronte Legend
They say she was a creature of the moor,
A lover of the angels, silence bound.
She sought no friendships. She was too remote,
Her sister Charlotte found.
I know she nursed her brother till he died,
Although she didn't like him; that she had
Housework and all the ironing to do,
Because her maids were bad.
And in the midst of it she wrote a book.
There could have been small leisure for the moor
Or wandering! She used to mend and sew,
The family was so poor.
Her brother died. But she died just as soon
As she had nursed dear Charlotte through the shock
Of Patrick's death. Contemplative? Well, well!
No Simeon of the Rock!
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Home Of Love
Make your home
Like heaven above
That's a house full of
Laughter and love
Where everyone can
Stay with pleasure
And collect for them
The hours of leisure
And decorate it
With joys and smiles
That help to spread
Happiness for miles
And bring in peace
And invite it to stay
So everyone can
With fain say
This is my home
Like heaven above
Because it is filled
With laughter and love.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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He is more than a hero
He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes--
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you -- he
who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing
laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can'
speak -- my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,
hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body
and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me
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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Trees Should Be Leisured
Trees should be leisured.
And given our priority.
Treated as if royality.
Without them no one breathes.
Trees should be leisured.
And stroked and pampered as if pets.
Instead of showing them neglect...
With a chopping down they get.
Trees should be leisured.
Like those we say we love.
Like favorite foods we eat to please.
Or things to ask from God above.
Trees should be leisured.
And given our priority.
Treated as if royality.
Without them no one breathes.
All trees should leisure.
Not be chopped and sold as huts!
To be then neglected or resold,
Or abandoned to give up!
Trees should be leisured.
And stroked and pampered as if pets.
Instead of showing them neglect...
With a chopping down they get.
All trees should leisure.
Since without them no one breathes.
All trees should leisure.
Since without them no one breathes.
And if from us trees should leave...
We would not here be needed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As One Very Powerful Deity
Gods created the universe,
That's what numerous bibles state,
All life the creators did disperse,
Then they left us to our fate.
The miracle is the diversity of life,
Just how do we all survive?
Is it these Gods who give us strife?
Or do they help us to stay alive?
What came first the chicken or the egg?
I guess only the Gods can tell,
It truly is a question to beg,
It's like, is there a Heaven and Hell.
They must all be really clever,
As it was completed in six full days,
Work on the seventh, never,
That's their day to laze.
Could that mean that Gods needs rest?
Surely that can't be true,
I would imagine they'd all be full of zest,
Or I'd imagine chaos would ensue.
An endless cosmos forever evolving,
Keeping it safe is a major task,
Constant problems which do need resolving,
For our Gods help we all tend to ask.
They must be busy all year round,
Well apart from their day of leisure,
Wherever there's trouble to be found,
We all pray to our national treasure.
Humans believe in multiple Gods,
Yet religion can be so unforgiving,
That is why we are all at odds,
Dying is the reason we are living.
Before we pass we live in hope,
That to Gods Heaven we will ascend,
If we don't, how would we cope,
As past mistakes we cannot amend.
Who made them and who made their maker?
Or are they all just one big illusion,
If they are that would be an Earth shaker,
All that would do is create more confusion.
Myself, well I've been thinking hard,
If these beings are so high and mighty,
The creator of the Gods I would have to regard,
‘' As One Very Powerful Deity ‘'
Poem of a madman
Who sentenced him to this prison of life
And threw away the key?
Who gave a pair of eyes to a man who cannot see?
A man dazzled by darkness.
A man who listens to laughter and cries.
He sits next to the genius, playing with invisible cards,
And it's no use watching his eyes.
He speaks the language of silence.
Silence, an unexploded bomb in his head.
And love's tear runs down the face of confusion,
Paying debt to emotion felt.
Drowning man, dreams through the day and sleeps through his thoughts.
Then he is dragged from the river of unconsciousness,
To rest on the banks of lonliness and pain,
When will he awake from this nightmare called life,
To the peace of death.
poem by Kevin East
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Jealousy
He is the supreme divine in my eyes
The man who is allowed to site beside you
He who listens intimately
To the sweet murmur of your voice
Were it only me being your choice
This enticing laughter
This beguiling look
That makes my own heart beat fast
If I meet you suddenly my breath in my lung lasts
And I cannot speak
My tongue will not obey
The commands of my brain
A thin flame runs under my skin
Seeing nothing hearing only my own
Ears drumming, I drip with sweat
Trembling shakes my body
I turn paler than the dry grass
At such times death is not far from me
Yet the man, he sits tranquilly at your side
To enjoy the secrets uttered from your mouth
Ugly surmise turns me into an ass
Come, come sweet death
Better you than this bitter jealousy of jess
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Like the gods. . .
In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you--any man whatever--
listening from closeby to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the
sweetness of your laughter: yes, that--I swear it--
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can't
speak any longer,
but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,
cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
ahold of me all over: I'm greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.
But all must be endured, since even a poor [