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Orlando Furioso Canto 6

ARGUMENT
Ariodantes has, a worthy meed,
With his loved bride, the fief of Albany.
Meantime Rogero, on the flying steed,
Arrives in false Alcina's empery:
There from a myrtle-tree her every deed,
A human myrtle hears, and treachery,
And thence would go; but they who first withdrew
Him from one strife, engage him in a new.

I
Wretched that evil man who lives in trust
His secret sin is safe in his possession!
Since, if nought else, the air, the very dust
In which the crime is buried, makes confession,
And oftentimes his guilt compels the unjust,
Though sometime unarraigned in worldly session,
To be his own accuser, and bewray,
So God has willed, deeds hidden from the day.

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poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth

PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown,
As dead, deplor'd his metamorphos'd son:
A cenotaph his name, and title kept,
And Hector round the tomb, with all his brothers,
wept.
This pious office Paris did not share;
Absent alone; and author of the war,
Which, for the Spartan queen, the Grecians drew
T' avenge the rape; and Asia to subdue.
The A thousand ships were mann'd, to sail the sea:
Trojan War Nor had their just resentments found delay,
Had not the winds, and waves oppos'd their way.
At Aulis, with united pow'rs they meet,
But there, cross-winds or calms detain'd the fleet.
Now, while they raise an altar on the shore,
And Jove with solemn sacrifice adore;
A boding sign the priests and people see:
A snake of size immense ascends a tree,
And, in the leafie summit, spy'd a nest,
Which o'er her callow young, a sparrow press'd.

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poem by Ovid
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A fat paunch never breeds fine thoughts.

Saint Jerome in letter
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A fat paunch never breeds fine thoughts.

quote by Saint Jerome
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There's something sexy about a gut. Not a 400-pound beer gut, but a little paunch. I love that.

quote by Sandra Bullock
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Bones give shape

Rib bones thrust forward,
Pelvic bones flung backward,
Haunches wide, paunch flat,
A woman cuts a lasting shape.
28.08.2000, Madras

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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His Second Decade

An artisan of surreal noises
Made of groans and chortles
Making words that sat like lead
pounce like a spear of chains
Pulling the vaults to break
And let loose a paunch soul
With a flagrant gaunt face
To become the visage
Of his subtly dubbed art.

While it's easy to toss
White roses on a grave
It is his eloquent etude
To exhume its blossoming.

Welcome to your second decade,
Undoubtedly your golden age,
Now flourish in your parade.

poem by Norman Santos
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The Temple Drummer and Piper

Flagellant!
Flexor of the Temple's
Flexuous moulded walls
The high reliefs sallying through your
Flaunting fingers
Wrap the holy-comer with your
Invocatory maul
While word of Vedic prayer
Seeps from some steepening Brahmin wall

O stretched bowel of your potted paunch
In perspiration's puffing piped paean
Rivet the eyes of man and god
Outside the walls of priestly palaver

Monotonic bell and OM
OM and monotonic bell
OM
OMM
OM

poem by T. Wignesan
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Daily dose of worry

Concern and worry,
Are so hard to carry.
Deadlines that i hate,
Appointments to be kept.
Housework and officework,
And children's homework.
Sunday brunch,
And growing paunch.
Missing housemaid,
And bills to be paid.
Untimely guests in the house,
And demanding inlaws and spouse.
Children's illness,
And a doctor's abscence.
Worry! oh worry!
So hard to carry.
Like a gum,
That's lost its juice.
Worry is of no use.
The taste is gone,

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poem by Maitreyee Joshi
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The Dining Room

A room with low windows, with brown shades,
Where a Danzig clock keeps silent in the corner;
A low leather sofa; and right above it
The sculpted heads of two smiling devils;
And a copper pan shows its gleaming paunch.

On the wall a painting that depicts winter.
A crowd of people skate on ice
Between the trees, smoke comes from a chimney,
And crows fly in an overcast sky.

Nearby a second clock. A bird sits inside.
It pops out squawking and calls three times.
And it has barely finished its third and last call
When mother ladles out soup from a hot tureen.

poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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