Dialogue
DIALOGUE
'Prior, I'm sure you'll agree,
though external beauty,
be but dermal, no higher,
sea sole, fowl from my fryer
prior approval would see,
should assuage thy belly!
Wine, fine spirits as well! '
When his menu he'd sell
.
Answered D in return:
'As my guest you will turn
in V.I.P. suite sweet
prior approval must meet,
meat and mince in mint sauce.
course with nothing too coarse
beet none other may beat
eat so bring your two feet
for feat rich to earn
all your stomach could yearn.'
.
'Pause not, for your paws
can crunch boiled lobster claws,
liken lichen to green
lettuce, let us to scene
be seen to add chili
unheard of in Chile
You will find my cuisine
tasty delicate lean
Mourn tomorrow morn 'cause
woke from dream by crow caws.'
./.
Replied brother in C.
'To mistake, maître D.
sole for soul as you tell,
augurs almost of Hell,
Lucifer's clause, roast fire.
But you've just found a buyer!
Mind your spirits stay well
when your fishes indwell,
for indulgence you'll fee
should they foul prove to be.'.
.
'In your inn no heartburn
' would I feel, tummy churn,
I your guest guessed jest fleet
owing naught to conceit.
There must be no remorse
or complaint made, perforce
slender maid with round seat
may my table serve, mete?
Taking cue I'll queue, learn,
take time thyme to discern.'.
.
'Sure your rays from far shores
may raise hope, reassures
that your servings have been
tasty like runner bean
fresh not stored in fridge chilly
nor prepared by hillbilly,
hoard horde teem scarce serene
might your team's great tureen
take by storm, raw's cooked, roars
'soon consuming your stores! '
Author notes
25 December 1977 revised 2 April 2009
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for previous version see below
Crew that maître d'hôtel Replied Brother in C.:
to fat friar far from cell ‘To mistake, maître D.
‘Prior, I’m sure you’ll agree, sole for soul as you tell,
though external beauty augurs almost of Hell,
be but dermal, no higher, Satan’s roasting coal fire.
sole or fowl from my fryer But you’ve just found a buyer!
would assuage thy belly! Mind your spirits stay well
Then to accompany, - when your fishes indwell,
wind, fine spirits as well.’ for indulgence you’ll fee
When his menu he’d sell. should fowl foul prove to be! ”
© Jonathan Robin Poem written 25 December 1977
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Shadows Of Wolves
we made an agreement
it was carved in stone to your mind
i agree there must be no changes
without prior notice
but you change it a bit
and so i am canceling the whole of it
that is what it is
carved in stone, put a change
the slightest one
can break the whole of that stone
a little change in temperature
or pressure as the case maybe
can make this world crack
without prior notice
now don't cry foul
for both of us prior to that
have assumed the shadows
of the wolves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prior To Whatever The Outcome
Who knows if those decisions we make,
Will achieve and please...
An expected result?
With a certainty known that is already felt.
The ones who take chances,
Eventually learned...
Something about deciding,
Upon which way to turn.
It is easy to reflect upon those experiences,
One gets.
And express whether or not,
A relief to them came with no grieving met.
But those who hesitate in a waiting done...
Are always heard to state they know what will occur,
Prior to whatever the outcome that is shunned...
Comes to ease or wreck havoc on their nerves.
Prior to whatever the outcome,
A shunning...
Prior to whatever the outcome,
Is done!
Prior to whatever the outcome,
A shunning...
Prior to whatever the outcome,
Is done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let Yourself Go
Lead vocal: eric woolfson
Maitre charcot he can send you where the winds blow
Look in his eye and your mind goes into limbo
They say, hes mad as a hatter
Hes no medicine man
Let yourself go, let yourself go, let yourself go
Maitre charcot he can teach you what you dont know
Look in his eye and the clock runs out of tempo
He knows, its mind over matter
Youll fit in the palm of his hand
Let yourself go, let yourself go, let yourself go
It doesnt need too much explaining
It doesnt seem to be so hard
You just count to ten and then back again
And before long you wont know where you are
Maitre charcot he will catch you if you let go
Look in his eyes and your thoughts go into slow motion
You glide, like birds of a feather
He flies higher than you
Let yourself go, let yourself go, let yourself go
For any doubt you have remaining
Let me remind you once again
You just close you eyes as the eagle flies
And before you know it you wont feel any pain, any pain
Id like to stay here forever, who needs the hullabaloo?
Let yourself go, let yourself go, let yourself go
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sole Survivor
(m - weikath, l - deris)
I got that fever
Burning in my hesd
So many mmories
No tear to shed
Burns like a fire
Who stole my aims
My comrade fighters
Been set astray
How could I know
What others had in mind for me
How could they know
What measures I take
Sole survivor of a kill without alert
Sing your feelings
On your song remains unheard
We share like brothers
A light in the black
Totaly blended
Bold and erect
But weve grown intrigers
till its to late
Ime has brought fire
Fear greed and hate
Now Im crying
Im shatted on the ground
All I find
Has died anyway
Sole survivor of a kill without alert
Sing your feelings
On your song remains unheard
Sole souvivor got a voice without a sound
Mean mistreaters took away your ground
How could I know
What others had in mind for me
How could they know
What measures I take
Sole survivor of a kill without alert
Sing your feelings
On your song remains unheard
Sole souvivor got a voice without a sound
Mean mistreaters took away your ground
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sailor and the Market Man
'I ask you to see reason'
Says the sailor who is stern;
'You know full well that from the sea
A living I must earn;
I'll bother you to shake on it,
I haven't got all day;
Come on now make your mind up,
It ain't a lot to pay! '
'My friend, your price is far too high'
The market-man declares,
'Go find another buyer now
Who'll rid you of your wares.
I know the fish you bring to sell
Are fat and fresh and sound,
But I must make a living too
By watching every pound.'
The sailor and the market-man
They argue every day,
As if there's no tomorrow,
And each must have his say.
The sailor and the market-man
At odds they'll always be,
Until they've taken all
The little fishes from the sea.
Written Dec 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Windspirits Triolet
Spirits in the wind are dancing.
The wind spirits are playing flutes.
They play heavenly and gracefully.
Spirits in the wind are dancing.
They are prancing wood fairies.
Spirits in the wind are dancing.
Thesw happy spirits are just dead.
The wind spirits should just go to bed.
Spirits in the wind are dancing.
poem by Vega Destiny Star
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Gypsy Soul
Now it's time to put the past behind us
I wanna see you shining like the sun
Always reaching higher, keep it all in mind
Now we got to take it all the way today
'cause I'm a runner with the wind
I'm a Gypsy Soul
I am calling you again
Now it's time to go
I'm a runner with the wind
I'm a Gypsy Soul
There will always be tomorrow
Gypsy Soul
I hear you say you want to stay with me now
There comes a day when you know which way to turn
Not very far until we're finally home
It's time for us to head on down that road again
'cause I'm a runner with the wind
I'm a gypsy soul
I am calling you again
Now it's time to go
I'm a runner with the wind
I'm a gypsy soul
There will always be tomorrow
I'm a gypsy soul
Gypsy soul. . .
NOTE: This song is on the soundtrack to the Sylvester Stallone movie "Over
The Top
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wor[l]d Weaver - Wait Tress Adressed
“Wor[l]d weaver we would know what may transpire
when Chronos fear’s unravelled on our earth.
Will waitress Time serve course with dainties, lyre
rewiring tastebuds with sweet morsels? tire,
no second servings dish? doors closed, expire?
close restaurant, avaunt, as if birth – berth
is/was spun bill of lading, - pre-paid buyer
obliged, wait_tressed, to pun de_sire?
Will waft and weft swift smoke in final fire,
or will we wait, like mammoths, for rebirth,
within ice walls sung by no phantom choir,
lost, silent, windless, sunless too, our worth
our empires under rock of ages' mire? '
“Light years spun long before the minds of men
climbed through primaeval slime to seed the stars, -
to open up far universe again.
Dice walls or calls the stakes, gives, takes, or mars
when cycles turn Fate's wheel, when nothing bars
intelligence renascent, - beings then
may lodestars search or perch on Shangri Las.
Beaux-arts may flourish, while noteworthy pen
might music rediscover, strange sitars
send notes afloat on timelessness suspen-
ding Time itself, once more feed hours
and powers the heady appetite empowers
to choose the course it views upon life’s MEN
YOU – only you – may taste, may waste, till when
wheel turns in haste, bill paid, and fade the flowers.”
'Wor[l]d weaver one would well your lore inquire.
What can become of all our storied mirth,
our idle chatter, dreams, ambitions higher,
our generations' aims and prayers entire,
imaginations vivid, poets’ lyre? ”
Should one feed now? How choose? when whine lists’ worth
may rancid ransom prove, a thorny briar.
Should we treat Maître D to trust as Sire,
or, tricked, of course off course, t[h]read into gyre
whose tipple ripple – pointed Fate’s denyer –
may earn return, new menu’s venu, dearth
or plenty find behind mind’s blind rebirth? ”
“Should, mad, mankind continue as today
to overcrop, to overfish, disdain
the seasons’ reasons, - all that may remain
could well be drowned beneath reef’s swirling spray
as tipping points are reached. No time to pray
may soon be found as poles melt, greed for grain
encouraging pollution, won’t restrain
equations which imbalance interplay
in ways all may regret with needless pain.
No fire, no ice, no cities, no ex…plain.
No restrooms, silver settings, crystal. Chain
reactions sweep both waiter, wait away.
Dessert is served in some Bagdad café as carpetbagger man’s precocious reign
turns paradise to desert by the way …”
16 Febuary 2002 revised 19 January 2007
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Epitaph Extempore
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave,
Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,
The son of Adam and of Eve;
Can Stuart or Nassau claim higher.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Epitaph - On Himself
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave!
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior;
A son of Adam and Eve:
Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Sole Survivor
When I ran from the hounds of hell
Twist my foot, I nearly fell
I was lucky I was alive
One look back I could have died
{chorus}
I was the sole survivor
Sole survivor
Sole survivor
Solitary fighter
When I saw it I was amazed
One time glory right in my gaze
I saw the sorrow, I saw the joy
Right in the darkness none could destroy
{chorus}
And from the wreckage I will arise
Cast the ashes back in their eyes
See the fire, I will defend
Just keep on burning right to the end
{chorus}
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through artists mankind becomes an individual, in that they unite the past and the future in the present. They are the higher organ of the soul, where the life spirits of entire external mankind meet and in which inner mankind first acts.
quote by Friedrich Schlegel
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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O Sole Mio
With pavarotti
Che bella cosa na jurnata e sole,
Naria serena doppo na tempesta!
Pe llaria fresca pare gi na festa...
Che bella cosa na jurnata e sole.
Ma natu sole
Cchi bello, oje ne.
o sole mio
Sta nfronte a te!
Quanno fa notte e o sole se ne scenne,
Me vene quase na malincunia;
Sotto a fenesta toia restarria
Quanno fa notte e o sole se ne scenne.
Ma natu sole
Cchi bello, oje ne.
o sole mio
Sta nfronte a te!
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 19
I never lamented about the vicissitudes of time or complained of the turns of fortune except on the occasion when I was barefooted and unable to procure slippers. But when I entered the great mosque of Kufah with a sore heart and beheld a man without feet I offered thanks to the bounty of God, consoled myself for my want of shoes and recited:
‘A roast fowl is to the sight of a satiated man
Less valuable than a blade of fresh grass on the table
And to him who has no means nor power
A burnt turnip is a roasted fowl.’
O Sole Mio
Che bella cosa na jurnata e sole,
Naria serena doppo na tempesta!
Pe llaria fresca pare gina festa...
Che bella cosa na jurnata e sole.
Ma natu sole
Cchibello, oje ne.
o sole mio
Sta nfronte a te!
Quanno fa notte e o sole se ne scenne,
Me vene quase na malincunia;
Sotto a fenesta toia restarria
Quanno fa notte e o sole se ne scenne.
Ma natu sole
Cchibello, oje ne.
o sole mio
Sta nfronte a te!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By The Fire
By The Fire
I sit by the fire with my thoughts of desire
As the flames do flicker and prance
Of one so serene and a body so lean
And the night of our wondrous dance
' Two spirits ', she said as I tilted my head
Wondering where this might lead
So our journey doth start as I follow my heart
For doing this is always my creed
A connection have we (of this we agree)
And we'll strive each one to inspire
Of the one so serene and a body so lean
And me, with my thoughts by the fire
The fire is warm, warm as your arms
Arms that, still, give me great desire
You see you emit so many charms
Charms that really shine by the fire
Jim 1993
poem by James Casey
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How Often?
How often may one meet
‘antidisestablishmentarianism’
in a poem, complete?
How many rant, defeat
harmony spewing sackcloth and ash aneurism,
heart-break volcanoes tie_rant cheat!
Is contemporary muse's seat
based more upon unchannelled antagonism's
compensatory self-deceit
than prose which flows slow to beat fleet
Time’s tempo and bigotry’s authoritarianism
monosyllabic feet?
Soul-song symphony seeks beat
juxtaposing sound sense's synchronism
with sounds' sensitivity sweet.
for previous version see below
How Often?
How often may we meet
‘antidisestablishmentarianism’
in a poem, complete? –
Is poetry’s pseudo seat
based more upon ‘communicationarism’s
fictional deceit
than prose which flows slow to beat fleet
Time’s tempo and bigotry’s authoritarianism
monosyllabic feet?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Song Of A Dream
ONCE in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Lone in the light of that magical grove,
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my delicate youth,
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Respite
Seek not in sect soul’s quest for quick relief
as narrow road leads to, from, narrow mind,
open tracks which back up tacks to find
respite till Search and Way unite as whole.
None need to feed from need to fire fame’s coal,
match flame with aim in game to leave behind
the past, for first IS last, draws double bind.
Reject temptation’s superficial role,
lip-service lending simply to control
disparities that, poles apart, unwind
when tenets tested cannot be combined
with sentiments sustained, coherent goal.
If puzzle pieces of their own accord
can fit, ‘tis writ, - if not, await reward.
22 March 2005 revised sonnet version 1 December 2006
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for alternative version
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII II
AN ANSWER?
Seek not in sect the answer to lost soul
As narrow road leads into narrow mind.
Make most of opportunity to find
A way to join both Search and Way made whole.
None need to feed from need to fire the coal,
To spark the flame which burns the Past behind,
Heed intuitions, harmony, to bind
All pattern parts, let inner knots unwind...
22 March 2005
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Respite poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Warrior Dash
Weaving through swings
Fresh new squires
Climbing rope walls
To heights so dire
Running over cars
Sailing through tires
To the 1 mile mark water supplier
Sliding down poles
We begin to conspire
We scaled up a wall
Like climbing a spire
If we needed a job
We'd certainly be hired
At the 2 mile mark we tire
A rope net crawl
With a tight rope walk prior
A large waterfall
We begin to climb higher
And as young son
Comes to become sire
We frantically try to jump over fire
We swim through thick mud
Bringing down all outliers
We struggle to swim
Under barbed wire
And then as runner
Turns into a buyer
The last thing you'll want is a blow dryer
poem by Logan Fulk
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