Tuesday, September 25, 2018

1184 - Rubáiyát



Rubáiyát 
Idle thoughts from a recent Iranian holiday.

From before the first caravans had 'er shipped,
Travellers have into Persia slipped
To find the world of Omar Khayyam,
And Lo, behold, we find the eucalypt!



Lo!  Gatekeeper, we come to seek a place
To rest our head, to wash out face
And perhaps to sit around at night
To share our tales of time and space.



We're strangers and yet momentary friends —
The overt message that each picture sends:
Is one of hope and brotherhood,
Of different lives with common ends.



Oh Shiraz, Shiraz, daughter of the vine,
Seduced by the purveyors of divine,
And so now a miracle has come to pass —
In reverse — water now replaces wine.



A swirl of cloth, draped but loose —
Those ones with God demand its use —
To stop men's blood from overheating,
Liberation to some, to others a noose.



Alone amongst the legs, the trade is slow,
A boy sells you weight for a coin or so —
To make a living, such as is, but I am well fed
And so turn away; I do not want to know.



As both sultan and lowly peasant affirms
They enter life on different terms
But each departs through a common door,
It makes no difference to the worms.



Ah Persia, wondrous land of past intrigue
A land, we're told, that bats above its league,
Rugs and spices to entrance the travellers
And that most curious illness - mosque-fatigue.



Lo! Strangers, what can you tell us?
Believe us, Sir, we dislike the turbanned fellahs,
For too long they beguiled with paradise —
We no longer buy the dream they sell us.



The overlords are largely derided,
Seditious thoughts are freely provided.
There's no telling what the future holds
But revolutions are seldom guided.



Ancient Persepolis had style and grace,
A most won'drous architectural space.
It remained the centre of civic life
Until Alexander came and trashed the place.



So long to start and yet so soon gone,
Markets, mosques and tea salon,
All defer to the distant call—
The caravans pack and then, 
separately, 
move on.
 .
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© 2018 J Cosmo Newbery
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Monday, September 24, 2018

1183 - The Helping Hand.




The Helping Hand

They came seeking help.
Detained, they are left to rot.
Where's the compassion?
 .
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© 2018 J Cosmo Newbery
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Sunday, September 23, 2018

1182 - Rubáiyát (part)




Rubáiyát (part)

Alone amongst the legs, the trade is slow,
A boy sells you weight for a coin or so —
To make a living, such as is, but I am well fed
And so turn away; I do not want to know.
.
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© 2018 J Cosmo Newbery
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I have been holidaying in Iran.

Friday, September 21, 2018

1181 - KU DE TA



KU DE TA

There a place in Bali called KU DE TA,
Who serve up tonics as a 'liquid spa'.
Internally ablative,
The naming's creative,
But "Elvis Parsley" is a pun too far.



A haiku response

So, it's good for me?
What? Just because it's green?
Coffee please.  Roasted.

 .
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© 2018 J Cosmo Newbery
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