Best Sheik Poems
Tender me a kiss
a brush of lips upon my cheek
gentle, loving, fragile wish, sheik
to set my soul afire, soft and weak.
Whisper love and comfort, joy and peace
to right this world so that war and hate will cease.
Tender me a kiss, some long goodbye
when all I sense and feel would make me cry
but hidden safe within the confines,
hope continues to abide.
In your hurry dispel all fears and worries compromising
tender me a kiss, anticipation waits on the horizon.
By the snap crack clackings of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes
In robes of finest silk did it dine
and found our flesh most divine
A creature who wore the cloth
In life did it spit upon the cross
To eat the flesh, and consume the blood
And many have drowned in it coming flood
Long, lean and sheik
It's gaze can make many a man meek
Teeth of bright white
Polished to hide the deeds of its night
Upon my house did it knock
Pray sanctuary with the blessed souls
Standing beneath our clock
Did it ask the toil for it's stroll
Clad in its finest Black cloth
Book in hand and cross over chest
Did it read the Lord's Prayer over our broth
Little did we know it was our last Prayer under our family Crest
It dined that night upon the flesh
It suped our blood while it was fresh
I watched my loved ones dies one by one
Wondering when it's deed would be done
Awashed in chilling foresight
That this will be the first night of many to come
It approaches me and picks me up as you would a doll
Then rests me on the table near it's bowl
Smiling down to me as if it was in delight
It shows it blood stained fang enhancing my fright
It pets my head tiding my hair
Speaking to me as if it offered me life, does it truly dare?
Good evening, young Hostest.
One so full of life, should never be fearful of one such as myself
The table you set I must protest does not suit my palate so I took matters into hand
And as such I must offer more to you for going out of my way
would you join me and my merry band?
Let me be a guide for your weakened heart
And show you the warm sweetness of your own blood
I shiver and shake, lost in the dark
Do I tread the mud filled waters of this demon who took all from this fool
Now in all the ends of days do I ask
Did I die that night,
Or is it you that died?
Poor Miss Carrie was scared of anything to do with Halloween,
She’d jump at just the sheer mention of this holiday, no please
Let’s just talk about something else, but as all hollows eve
Approached, this nervous girl would stay inside and hide!
I’m not going out until it’s all done and over with she’d
Say, I’ll stay indoors where it’s nice and cozy, if you don’t
Mind just the same!
But every child has a natural curiosity, and when everyone
Was busy, she’d peek outside the window, their children
Ran up and down the streets, gathering candy, laughing
Maybe she thought it ain’t so scary after all, the child
Thought.
Gathering every bit of courage, scary Carrie ventured
Outside at last, with a pillow case in her trembling hands,
Her mother asked are you sure my little dearest, yes
I’m going to be brave, and face my fear, up and down
The cobwebbed covered block, these tiny darlings
Ran, screaming trick or treat, smell my feet or give
Me something good to eat!
Oh mother dearest, I have no proper costume to ware,
With some suet from the fireplace, we’ll fix that right
Up, a smudging here and there, an oversized dress,
With Aunt Fanny’s yellow sun hat!
Now that’s a homemade costume that’s totally
Sheik, what a sight to behold, than the fearful
Child smiled hugged her mother tightly, thank you
So much!
Running down the lane scary Carrie went running
Along joining her friends, in this holiday tradition,
Returning later on, tired but so happy, Mother
I’ve learned there is nothing to fear about Halloween
At all, and now I can’t wait until next!
Up to bed she smiled and yawned, singing a trick
Or treat bedtime song, I use to be scared of Halloween,
A regular Freddie cat, scary Carrie the other kids teased,
But now they call me fearless, and brave!
After she said her prayers that night, Carrie puckered
Her candy stash away beneath her pillow, and dreamed
About her night’s adventures, saying to her mother dearest,
I’ll never be frightened again!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Now I lay me down to sleep… I pray the Lord my mind to keep…
Zombies are gathered all around, trying to keep me from my sleep.
They want to be the futures’ new symbols, for All Hallows Eve.
They brought their pickets to my door, and now, won’t leave. I swear!
You see, we were to do a play, and instead of Shakespeare in the Park!
We were to do a Jurassic World play, with a Halloween theme, of course.
But Zombies wanted to do a Zombie Vaudevillian play, so sheik! So sharp!
Where they’ll show off their ‘Thriller’ talents, show that they, totally rock!
They found costumes, on a great quest, raiding the cemetery, for it’s best.
Dragon’s fighting back. You bet! After all, he’s the shoo in, for the TRex.
We decided on a dance off, to see who wins, the theme next year, my dear.
I just hope, IF the Zombies lose, they won’t bite us, literally, in our rears.
Zombies are stubborn, refusing to lose, so paid the witches to see to our fall.
Who then bewitched us to nightmares, most supreme, bringing us, to a crawl!
Many nightmares later it seems, we decided to put them both, into the theme.
After all, if Dragon lost the part, his legendary hotfoots would make us scream.
So starting with Jurassic Park, the monster mash, where Dragon lit every torch.
His penguins, as raptors, jumped like lemmings off the stage, in 3’s, of course!
They danced up to, our security team, the Troll Frankenstein’s, you gotta know?
Then Zombies in the audience, jumped up, to Dance to ‘Thriller’, so Cool, to go!
The competition was back on, as all came back up to the stage floor, in force!
Witches’ fog covered the floor, as Zombies danced our raptors, off the floor!
Our Raptors fell like lemmings, off the stage, as Zombies cheated, so not to fail!
Now, Dragon, in retaliation, sent Zombies toppling off the stage, with his tail!
This might have turned rather ugly, but never fear! Little old me, was here!
I decreed, who won the most audience on their side, got the trophy, so dear!
Finally the Troll Frankenstein’s won the prize, as all ran in fear, to their side.
Then all took a bow TOGETHER! It was a Witch made miracle, I’m very sure!
I can now, again, lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord…My mind to keep…
So Beware of Zombies, Kind to Witches! And Have a Happy Halloween!...
In laughter made stitches...
Ama you are a father
Father my father
Whose basket of fishes
Sweetened my mother’s dishes
Whose naked feet danced
The jungle drum you drummed.
I remember
Father I still remember
Those joyous days
When like brooding hens
You employed your hands
To shield the offsprings
Those several bodies
O! the little bodies
That clung to your bare wide chest
Like the eaglets unto their nest!
I remember
The sun-burnt days of the hunted panther
When the full moon-light chimed
The rhythms of jungle drum drummed
Rhyming with the story told
By the white-haired.
Then your roaring march
Along the prime paths of the forest
Then your rustic touch
Touching the weapon-hilt
Making carcasses of beasts
Making fresh clan feasts.
I still remember
The raw feasts of the drummer
Which strewed this universe
Like young Mbari warriors
Taking the spear from several clans
Turning their crowns into tributes!
Ama, you are the drummer
Whose communal tongue echoed
From the hidden chambers of the Niger
The drum of your conquests echoed
Everywhere in the universe
Like the gusto of the Sheik
Confiscating my land from the Sahara
In her eternal desiccation.
You are the royal father
Whose royal eyes woo the moon
Whose black hairs detain the sun
Like Joshua at Gibeon
Even in the deep valleys of Ajalon
Bringing the heavens to abrupt halts
When their course possesses progress.
O, Ama! you are a noble father
And like the gold-laying eagle my Africa
Your natural pocket flowers gold
Which fills the coffers of the household.
O Ama! you are our race
The clan greets her farmer
The tiller of my earth
The earth of the ancients
The ancients of my blood
The blood of my race.
The clan is still drumming
On the drum that now is a mere echo
Of the eternal rhythm of your drum
Ama, you are still our clan’s song;
O, you are my song
The song my jungle
The jungle of my blood
The blood of my race:
A race
Waiting
Now and ever
In a forlorn clan
Awaiting
A return of the drum?
Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk
Know Your Onions
Hey there Big Cheese
I think you are the bee’s knees
Not a bluenose or a flat tire,
But, ooh hardboiled & too Oliver Twist to resist
Let us skip the youths' rub & head far removed from the petting pantry
Share a jorum of skee at the local speakeasy
Now we are on the trolley!
Let us slowly ankle to the joint
I’m a copasetic-bearcat
Watch my gams, catch my point?
Oh hepcat I’ll get your handcuff or
This darb Sheba’s bank is closed for someone else
Butt me, you spiffy sheik
Cuz I’m stuck on you bimbo
Unleash
Know your onions & manacle this
Choice bit of calico,
You know you can’t resist
Then and then only will you wield me to your struggle buggy and
We’ll be jake!
The cat's pajamas!!
Berries!
Sunshine Williams
1920’s Slang
Me, a singularity, vast, color fast, has a good forecast and will flabbergasted. Me, resilient at times brilliant and on the same token often broken. Me, can be unforgiving, dangerously living but on the flipside able to coincide and negative feeling me can override.
Me, such a complex being always looking seldom seeing. Quick to judge, will carry a grudge, hard to budge, if given a nudge will trudge. Me is sometimes political, for the issues in life are critical and Me is very analytical. Because learning is essential, life evidential and Me has great potential.
Me, will often go wrong, terrified of the unknown, so Me will postpone, until me grows backbone, only to find it was just another milestone, then Me has grown. Foremost, Me loves to boast, about having more than most, becoming totally engrossed. Then Me will start to rant, extremely arrogant and over confident.
But Me must beware not to step into a snare, falling deep into despair and life becomes a total nightmare. But when Me becomes drastic then Me can become fantastic because Me is very elastic. So when life is bleak from the consequences me has wreaked, if Me will seek Me will develop technique and come out looking very sheik, for Me is unique.
You see, Me is not Earthbound for that will confound and when Me come around Me will astound. While the physical me is confined to the Earth the inner Me is part of the universe and totally diverse. Although Me comes flawed even outlawed and Me can seem a bit odd, still, Me is a product of GOD.
Even though it's unexplainable true life is attainable, if Me will truly believe Me will achieve. So who is Me??? EVERYBODY...
Sending the tending to an unfriended ending,
yet somehow suspending from rending a newly offending recommending.
Logotype monotype linotype,
overripe stereotype,
teletyped an unripe heliotype.
Guttersnipe snipe,
stipe snipe ripe,
a wipe type a tripe,
unleash a withering hype.
Dip snip,
nip lip,
slip skip,
rip the apple pip
over a battleship Chip.
Clip,
airstrip,
blip,
scrip,
gyp,
flip,
dip.
Unsip, blue clip,
A warship, weathering stick.
To miche an itch,
to stitch a witch.
Rich a quitch,
Hitch a flitch.
Gabrilowitsch,
the grand son of a *****!
Pitched a ditch to flitch a niche.
Made a rich hitch lich.
The Thia tie thy tried to untie an unshy,
Spied a sny sty,
He ascribed a bribe tribe,
to dib drib, lib and sib.
A death pale,
dwaled and engrailed,
enjailed and bewailed.
The cocktale turned into a,
ginger ale stale.
A hobnail.
A pale kale.
The whale waled
a veil of wail.
The stale air,
railed the quailing sale.
Dipped the snip,
to pip the tip,
and baled the avail,
to the flailed snail.
Attract extract reenact,
saddle backed and subtracted,
the tact the pact
an unmistakable fact.
Swag the unsage,
the wage of the tutelage.
A coffee break
a bit of a cornflake
cupcaked the cake of the devil's flake.
Draked the fake fruitcake,
and hake the jake on the mellow lake.
Mistake the overtake.
A pancake sheik,
cried spake of a toothache.
Ack Ack!
Back, Bootblack Jack.
Pack the Pontiac rack,
sack the Hackensack,
hijack the leatherback.
Offtrack the outback,
rack the sack,
smack the stack,
stickleback the tictack track,
to the umiak Union Jack.
Twack the whack yak sack,
A mystical one eyed zodiac.
Bready a speedy,
deedy the weedy,
Reedy to leedy.
Unheedy indeedy.
Leda, Vida, Theda.
Sketched an etch,
itched a hatch.
So speechless,
breathless,
toothless.
The socialist,
the communist,
the theorist
the terrorist.
Bedded the bedding
in a dreadful beheading.
Weeded the weed,
leading the lead,
tended the teed.
The ready read,
the reedy reeded.
The seedy seeded.
The end is Ending.
After Amal-Ahmed-al-Sadah
took a bullet meant for Sheik Osama’s
head; said wife number five:
“He’s gotta stay alive
to watch TV in his pajamas.”
Humble,
Rudimentary,
Comfortable clutter to abate fears of agoraphobic stumbles,
A 4x4 white-washed landscape provides the perfect artistic study.
Claustrophobic,
Artificial,
The clean floors become lava so I've practiced my aerobics,
Ugh my artistic inspiration is siphoned by this unfortunately accurate description, an obstinate mockery of my work, look at it sitting there all pompous yet still so superficial.
Blank canvas,
Infinite utensils,
Every little "mess" perfectly fills settles in its stanza,
Of graceful brushstrokes and triumphant crescendos to form my easel.
Insufferable antithesis,
Genocidal doctrine,
Insidiously contagious and unbearably loquacious,
Infecting homes content in their mediocrity and ensembles' sheik rebellious fashion.
A standoff at high noon,
Between libertarian creativity and authoritarian germophobia,
Both sides claiming a fair fight between equal rivals yet they both undermine each other through sabotage and flaunt their charm like geisha,
Who shall I choose?
Eh, I'll figure it out in the morning.
I turned over the channel
to come in on the end
of a documentary
Islam a chant flowing
through the town
we hate america
we hate the jews
it was like a football match
where you're chanting
for opposing sides
yet evil grows from ideas
a city taught to hate
the anger and the strength
radiating from the face of a youth
a child growing on the path of revenge
reminded me of the hitler youth
taught to dob in the parents
reminded me of the raised arms
to Hitler when he trained his people
for war
the world stood back
and watched as he attacked
the country's surrounding him
society to the left stood back
not wanting war
yet the thought
went through my mind
a whole country like that
how do you stop it
how do you stand against a tide
I sat a table with different people
some old some young
The young people came
from that area
complaining of the past
complaining of a story
A blond girl had been
promised to a sheik
promised to one
but given to another
The young people
said with anger
that caused a war
between the two sheiks
The young people indignant
were angry against the injustice
yet the elderly stated thats good war
use your enemies to fight each other
Ideas are like a seed
they start in one man
and grow to become a nation
I hate war
It would be better if people
would decide to live in peace
to forgive the past
yet sometimes people are fools
If a man throws a fist
I'm not going
to stand their and take it
I would throw a fist back
Nobody wins from the wars
England is still paying for the cost
of the second world war
America has already taken on
twenty trillion dollars of debt
thousands of Muslims have lost
children arms legs and lives
nobodys wins from the wars
all are just fools
going around on a circle of pain
fools hurting each other
with no end in sight
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Here comes Abdul-Gafoor;
Tall, strong and bare-chest.
He will soon cross the Nile;
To Mahmoud’s Island, to Mahmoud’s “saqia” (water-lifting wheel).
He will work all day;
Watering and planting and harvesting.
Corn and wheat, tomatoes and cucumbers.
He will return in the evening;
With fruits, vegetables and milk.
His milk customers will be waiting:
Moslab and Dirar and “Sheik Al-Arab.”
---------
A “dahash” (baby-donkey) running;
To catch up with his mother.
Cows eating “tibin” (dry grass);
Their tails wave away flies and mosquitoes.
A raging bull tied to a tree;
Bellowing, kicking and digging dirt.
Goats herded towards the Nile;
Plenty of grass.
---------
Morning in the village;
“Hai ala alsalah” (time to pray), then “hai ala alfalah” (time to work).
Except Wali, in his eighties;
Wali carries a huge Koran all day.
In the mosque, by the Nile, under the trees, back to the mosque, by the Nile, under the trees, back to the mosque.
All day, “hai ala alsalah.”
---------------------------
(End),
They come in many colors
like red, yellow, and blue.
Though not all are colored
there's plain white ones too!
There are pink ones and green ones
and purple and gray
so many colors
what can I say!
Some are embroidered
with each day of the week.
Some are plain cotton
some transparent and sheik.
The ones that you choose
depends a great deal
on where you are going
and just how you feel.
If you catch a cold
and your nose starts to run
and your eyes start to water
its really no fun.
Its then that you need some -
ones made of paper I'ld say
'cause after you use one
you just throw it away.
But I hope in your case
they are rarely a must
and you don't have to need one
too often I trust.
But if you do
there's two options to use
a TISSUE or HANKY -
which do you choose?
So keep them real handy
cause need them you might.
If you do does it matter
if they're colored or white?
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman Flying
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, seeks young sprig poe
whet tick friend in toto,
though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.