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Dark Poetry #2
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To The Lovers of Wine....(A Quatrain)
| Dark Poetry #2 |
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To The Lovers of Wine....(A Quatrain) |
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demoninlove Member
since 2000-02-11
Posts 211Dehradun |
For long did I harangue 'bout the evils of sin To the lovers of Wine - till my patience wore thin Till I followed them to this Tavern's door Where now I stand - To welcome thee in! Deepak Menon |
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| © Copyright 2000 Deepak Menon - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ian Llewellyn ap-Griffith Member
since 2000-02-12
Posts 197Cincinnati, Oh, U.S.A. |
This sounds like part of the famed Ruba'iya't. I was introduced to that immortal work when I was very young and it has remained one of my absolute favorite works of poetry. Very good work, you kept the rhyme and the metre perfectly. I would not have been surprised to learn that this was a long lost quatrain from Omar Khayya'm! Well done indeed. Sing while you may -The Prophet Qa'sepel Your pain is for you alone, As it is, As it was, As it will be forever, Amen -The Prophet Qa'sepel |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
Ok you talked me into it, drinks it is. Good poem. I liked the analogy. Made me think up this I'll have a little nip, to stay the cold I'll take a sip, but don't be so bold to assume a tip,because this dame is old. Sorry it's late my brain's leaking  Be well Kethry Kethry "It is the image in the mind that links us to lost treasures; but it is the loss that shapes the image, gathers the flowers weaves the garland."- |
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demoninlove Member
since 2000-02-11
Posts 211Dehradun |
Dear Ian and Kethry - Thanks for your kind comments - my ego is about ready to burst! In fact I was always facinated by Omar Khayyam and his glorious translation by King Edward (Fitzgerald). And the solitary book I have managed to get published consists of 166 quatrains echoing the sentiments of Khayyam to whom the book is my tribute. Deepak |
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catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Had to add my sentiments. This is perfect.. catalinamoon Words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling, like dew, upon a thought produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions think. Lord Byron |
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