If it is written, so be it,
but who'll admit
to writing what was writ
when the fan is hit?
And, if, having inscribed,
the finger does proceed,
whose digit was it
when the words were decreed?
Yet, carved in stone,
or etched on glass,
who'll confess to pouring such concrete
when it comes to pass?
not a magic lamp of gold ~ but a wine river beneath shifting sand
Have its lobster claws times two pincered off
One way sticks of this crustacean’s underwater trap?
Eight leggedly it gallops off among arthritic, bulbous trees.
And waves its spiny tail to cover up its tracks.
Dogs have joined the spirit of the game,
Spaniels with foreheads as regally as high
As their master princess on a unicorn
And will play this pint sized monster-knight to death.
Undistracted by surrealistic fish camouflaged in dark,
Untempted by sea horses following her braid.
Never can crustacean hunts be lost
When hounds are hot upon a trail of lobster sauce.
Miss Rema Omar
The way you flow
The way you glow
The way you walk
The way you talk
The way you smile
You are river Nile
Educated broad minded Miss
How about a kiss?
This is how I flirt
If you think I am dirty
Wash me and clean my dirt.
If a loath of bread is all In a day
What lies of the village the nun
Among the keeper words well
While intense of the spirit
Enhance of the vision to
Know less but to know more just
Just of the thought of day.
Heed the vivid voice of Persia,
Echoes of truth of song and wine;
Yield most candid bold amnesia.
Observe sure proof in touch divine,
Mingle and see the face of morn,
Align your ways to greet great light;
Rise up and be one with sweet dawn.
Keep primal play in fond insight,
Hurl rubais here in verse refrains,
Ask for the will to follow quest;
Yes voice sincere such cryptic strains,
You know life bills each rowdy fest;
Awake to joy that seeds life's flow,
Mingle with toys that help you grow.
Leon Enriquez
03 May 2015
Singapore
Bike to Work day: escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar
Loch David Crane
Patriot Guard Riders
September 2009
No more classes now that I've been fired!
Patriotism is my job: I’m retired.
The Patriot Guard rides almost every day
to bring a flapping flag line on display.
We ride to work with combustion and chrome
to bring the bodies of our brave troops home.
In a strange twist for love of our country
This Arab Albrak was a volunteer
who gave America his youthful years
to make Iraqui people finally free.
He gave his life: I give my afternoon
remembering our heroes at high noon.
Packed in ice, he came home to his Mom;
his body was prepared by an Imam.
Ruba’i*: Umar ibn Ibrahim al-Khayyam*, Omar son of Ibrahim, the tent-maker
Words awoke on the retina of the astronomer
Unknown aeons piled dark energy upon dark matter
Astral bodies all strung like sea shells in the firmament
What old Khayyam saw was not what was seen by the Maker!
• Omar Khayyam, d. 1131, was a renowned mathematician-astronomer poet of old Persia
• ruba’i (plural: ruba’iyat): 11th-12th century Persian self-contained quatrain of 14 syllables rhyming aaba made popular in the West through Edward Fitzgerald’s 1859 translations titled: The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
"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."
From the Rubaiyat of Omer Khayyam.
This is one (of many) of my favorite quotes of hs masterpiece. It reinforces the
reality of life, there is no dress reheasal...this is it...and we'd better do it right the
first time!
Written In Stone
Should I have taken the other road?
Why didn't I..I forget
Was it Karma or bad choices
That led to some regrets?
Could I have made a difference
In some of life's vignettes?
We cannot change what was
Nor ever bring back the past
We cannot erase events
The die has already been cast!
Give me something to chew,
a savage numbness
is engulfing my brain.
Water level was rising
and the time of rented happiness
was over.
Pheromones were showing true likeness
in hate,
violence was brilliantly portrayed
and death was hideous.
Attachedment assumes a blast,
stares me in empty eyes,
hurling silence with invisible force.
Give me something to drink
like moonlight. It is very hot here.
I am walking downhill
to roll back the rock.
SATISH VERMA
A tom bell version of "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam";
(In hopes of enticing our beloved Ruby Metzger back to Soup)
Omar K. always
had his way...
Multi-millions
from Arab oil,
He sat back
and self-pampered
He'd never
had to toil...
Money bought
his every whim
Saw an electric razor
that satisfied him
Bought the company,
Went on TV,
to tell the world,
"Hey, I'm rich,
this is Me!!"
One day on "Soup"
By Ruby Metzger,
he found a poem
that pleased him so
He decided he
wanted her
for his home...
Now Ruby had
her own plans
that included not
his "desire glands"
She hated heat
and the world
of sand and oil,
And a society where
women were but property
of men Royal
And camels and goats,
did not her please,
And she really hated
those damn sand fleas
But Omar did
his best to woo
This poetic woman
who's heart was true
Omar bought her
a slendid yacht
One capable of
35 or more knot
But Ruby had the
final word,
When she told him;
"Boy you're thick!!!
I told you once,
I get sea-sick!!!!"
thanks omar; re spelling; i'm orig. from brooklyn; not only are we expected to
spell everything wrong, we can't even talk the king's english...by the way...who is
our king these days? does he speak english? LOL- thanks, and what'cha think
of Forbidden Planet? sorry to use this medium (instead of well-done?), but you
left no email address. thanks for the comments, Soup Forever!!!!! Tom
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