Best Turbaned Poems
Sitting on the Fence at Twilight
When the sun waved good-bye in the afternoon,
I’d say hello to the smiling Man in the Moon.
Perching on our gray concrete fence,
I’d swing my brown legs to a happy cadence.
From my solid fortress, I could see
a daily circus of human activity.
On a single bicycle rode the Fabros, a family of four;
how they all fit, it was a mystery to be sure.
The street vendor, old Papito, would hawk his treats;
oh! those warm, sticky, honey buns and tamarind sweets.
Sashaying in her tight-fitting skirt of tomato-red,
Cousin Clarita balanced a green basket on her turbaned head.
Then came buxom Aunt Alfreda huffing and puffing by,
to give me a piping hot, home-made, savory meat pie.
I’d blow on it to cool it off first, just
before biting into the flaky, buttery crust.
As day soon faded into hues of twilight,
I’d spy the occasional shiny satellite,
a tiny, silver snail slowly revolving in the sky,
moving so silently above, way up high.
For a child of seven, this was such a wondrous time…
right until the old town clock chimed nine.
Then Mama would ring her bell calling me inside,
and I’d leave the stars still twinkling outside.
04-24-2018
Contest: An Early Childhood Memory
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Placement: 3rd
Categories:
turbaned, childhood, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Bestial History Recycling
by Odin Roark
School years found him library prone,
Glimpsing pages of barbaric times,
Centuries ago where death and executioners
Lived out their realities,
History’s training ground for ancestral inheritance.
So easy to thumb through pages,
Gaze into the pale faces described
Like their judges must have seen
If they looked.
But who sees eye to eye in such moments?
His focus rose from such pages,
Allowing forgiveness for such atrocities,
Accepting the norm of those days
To calm his senses.
Now older,
Removed from the voluminous archives of bound studies,
He sat in his favorite chair,
Held tight the newspaper,
Allowed today’s pictured headlines to sink in,
A demonic breeding he once thought was past.
As if by sacred duty
The turbaned head held steady,
His left hand with scimitar,
His right about to yank the victim’s hair,
A grip of cruelty above innocence,
Atrocity bearing down on civilized…
He glanced up at the fire needing another log,
And allowed the emptying of his sorrow,
Imagining the blood drenched sands of what he once thought
Was reserved as teachings from long ago days,
Now but festering doubt of whether civilization had advanced.
How could he think otherwise.
Then was repeatedly now,
Alive,
Hungry,
Knowing nothing of satiability,
Only the gluttonous hatred
Their twisted theosophy thrived on.
With eyes closed,
He could hear Nature’s whirling sands,
Wanting to cover this,
Bury that,
Save the mothers from it all,
From bearing yet more
Of savagery’s black over orange,
Humanity’s unanswered shame
Of glittering blades made dull,
With death’s crusted blood,
Inciting appetites to sharpen once more,
To hover over slumped heads,
Tied hands,
Bended knees,
Final breaths.
With recycled history out of control,
When would its savagery rape his shores?
Categories:
turbaned, war,
Form:
Free verse
Hey, hey, I want to dance the *KARAGAM dance
*Hey, Sham, Manu, bring pitchers from archives
Fill the pitchers with water and uncooked rice
As rice symbolizes food that sustain our lives.
With twirls bodies move free with intricate steps
*Dhotis, jackets furl and the turbaned heads unfurl
Hands holding peacock feathers of rainbow colors
While small bells in their anklets and belts swirl.
The vocalists sing and the drum bits pick motion
And with that the vocalists start singing songs divine.
As the rhythm picks up, so does audience’s emotion
To invoke the Gangai Amman, the Goddess of rain.
================================
* A form of Indian Folk dance
** Indian names
*** Indian dress
March 15, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Free Verse
First Place Win
Contest: Impress Me with Small Poems V By Giorgio V.
Motif: Religious - A religious ceremony performed to invoke Goddess of Rain
Categories:
turbaned, religious,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXXI
IF you pull a long lagging-behind face
You deserve your copycat status in more than one way
Marco Polo brought back cracker-power not to powder face
Noble Savage Injuns and Indians shuddered and gave way
Now if you pull a long WOG face
Aping the Colonial Master in every bourgeois way
No use straddling neck feet dangling front of face
Giant still supports the Dwarf while striding away
If you still will pull that long sullen " heathen " face
Thinking how easy the tidal wave you'd turn back anyway
Vasco's galleons rained broadside thunder balls on village place
While your loin-clothed turbaned ancestors scurried in fear
If you then pull your long self-satisfied face
At your hosts' Midas touch riding main fleets of Raleigh
To stud Crown lapis lazuli rubies opal spice and maize
Needs he as much now you to beg fawn and yeah-say
If you must then pull your long infra-dig face
Hankering after titles prizes rubbing shoulders in hallowed hallway
Colonial caste of mind gives exacting the Shylock pound of flesh
Smites your integrity dignity breaks spirit robs merits if " I YOU DARE ! " say
© T. Wignesan - Paris, February 8, 2019
Categories:
turbaned, anti bullying, cinco de
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The first gardening of the year maybe is small beer
Tightening tired muscles digging the seven by nine,
These great beetroot symphonies so divine where
Rebellion rife not growing this, but the runner bean
Its bright red - orange flowers and pods profuse
Straight and long or turbaned at the tip to try to be
Better than a neighbour's, though I dare not place a bet.
One has to grow tates that Raleigh brought over the Pond
That until a few years ago was no appetiser, being grown as
Fertile compost, but now are edible with butter sliding down
Their crevices even if their shapes arrogant supermarkets decry
And leeks to complement daffodils in the flower garden and mint,
That the Irish bard of our century wrote well its composition, its
Colour, shape, and sharp but pleasant smell and strawberries few,
To share with the garden birds theirs and ours keen cream appetites.
Categories:
turbaned, garden, daffodils,
Form:
Free verse
Turbaned head
Red and white clothed
Benignly asks
'Should I help?'
To reach the
r i g h t
compartment
The train is on time
Arriving on platform number one
He covers long distances
Spots the compartment
Carries the load
Undisturbed, untroubled, unrisked
Keeps the luggage
Takes his fee
Departs
How noble service!
Humble obeisance
No orders, no requests, no curse, no advices
Benevolently appears
Helps the mass
Unasked, unanswered
To reach the destination
Bears the weight solely
But nameless duty
His unique dignity.
Categories:
turbaned, people
Form:
Free verse
treading tales of three o clock on the morning bow
Android alkaloid met a myriad of trees at a southern angle. Bacon tart it was not for a tart is touting and touting is not touring at the correct crossing angle. Beetle dropped the cake then did he? That was rather careless. Heirless forgotten female of the ninth cavern of the tribal transatlantic point. It is to be said that at this particular time writing is a painted pin. But a wandering foetal arch of an emperor is to bring an empire twice around the globe in a spin that resembles a pistol shooting with no trigger. Nevertheless a seemingly random question would be how many picked out places are placed in a minute? Horse goes boing at thus point and nods and neighs. Wandering wailing warring waiting wooden wildernesses. And a great big pile of books arriving through the postal service with a smiley faced man. Who gives the freedom to a weathered wand? And who exacts the tyrannical traits of trademarks and trade? It is to be in the innermost point of a turbaned head that aspires to gain knowledgeable truths regarding atoms, pinnacles, spinsters and a sewing machine loom. So to the sands now and the mild temperate little ocean wave with ten prawns yawning during chess games with the shells. Interesting that isnt it? Love to all lovely Li lively liveries. And the custard jam in that cupboard over there is neither a fruit stew, orange peel or a non ordered item on an extensive seafood menu. Hahaha menial meandering moody moose. Hahaha logo leering laughingly xxxxx combustible chart chats xxxxx alphanumeric z z z z at 20% of a note. Z
Categories:
turbaned, anniversary, assonance, basketball, bible,
Form:
Colors of life, fertility, sanctity fly
Aromas include sweetmeats, coconut, fire
There's flowers galore, honey, spices
Not for meals only, but especially decoration
Focus now on the bride: Vermillion path
From the Center of her head, to her top height
A sign of vows of fidelity in blood (SINDOOR)
As with red dot: bindi, RED FOR MARRIAGE
Other colors are for youth and single women
The man arrives on horseback (donkey often)
Turbaned as of old, shiny suit, India style
The usual makeup dominated by mascara KAJAR
I may dream my Christian wife would like this, too
Categories:
turbaned, africa, celebration, seasons, wife,
Form:
Free verse
Years of worshipping the Sun God are
changing me: the beach baby I was is no
more. Sun whisperer says, Get Ready. Clear
your mind. Be one of a kind. Each day
he takes his marker out and claims more
and more territory, and I become deciduous,
more like indigenous: the Cigar Store
Indian, the turbaned lady on a cardboard
box-- not like strips from sugarcane stalks
my father brought home from mountain
trips, but the plump blueberries he made
into pies, or the wild blackberries like miniature
hives meandering the sand hills beyond our
house. Resistance to change is the end,
they say. So I bend, I bend...
Categories:
turbaned, color, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
A transparent parrot makes a very big noise when seed arrives to visit. Mr and Mrs seed have fifteen children, eleven thousand grandchildren and one great grandchild. It is interesting to note bar levels for bar levels are neither bare back riders, billionaires, biscuit barrels or broomsticks breaking beers. Carrier pigeons call most effectively in a midday heat whilst flapping to the air like a fly waving to a open sandwich. The sandwich gets quite upset when the flies do this for flies flake flesh and flesh is a mighty weight of acrobatic atomic applets. Apples seek shelter under umbrellas borrowed from the shoe basket in the hall. Then laugh as the humans cannot locate their weather protectors. It is very amusing when chatting to a mild mannered bin for bins contain waste and waste is often wise, witty and witters on and on wildly in a worldwide whorl. Great. How fantastic it is to ask for a cup of tea from a passing family of otters. Otters create the most marvellous of brews and unlike shrews they do not stew their brew. So never leave a hairbrush facing a window if it is painted with silver stripes for such a mistake will be noted by the otters whose fascination with windows and hairbrushes is often quite profound really. Self adjusting images rarely paint landscapes. And a field in a photo is simply philosifying about the growth of potatoe cake plants this year. Ghost of great girth cannot sit on a five centimetre window ledge. And the pretty unicorn in a cloud can canter across the skies at wonderful speeds. Fantastic isn't it. And now that you have learnt all of that it is time to prepare the curry said the little mouse on the turntable. Ok then. Good. Have you a biscuit to eat on the A52? Haha bibbing bubbling bursting brooks baking birthday balloons. Hahaha prism in a circumference equals a happy hexagonal mineral deposit. Traditional turning turbaned turbines. Windmill waltzing with willows. Xxxxx sacramentarianism. Z z z z Z. @ forty foot over a loch
Categories:
turbaned, adventure, africa, assonance,
Form:
Profiling Can Be the Best Way To Go
By Elton Camp
If a feeble, little old lady comes walking by
Is your reaction the same if a thug you spy?
If not, then it’s profiling in which you engaged
A practice that makes some become so enraged
But there are times it can make a whole lot of sense
Especially if against terrorists you’re making a defense
Airport security is an excellent example of such a time
The emphasis should on those likely to commit crime
Experience with terrorists causes us to know the type
To screen those more is no valid reason for any to gripe
To search a young kid from head to toe
Most certainly is not the correct way to go
A turbaned man muttering, “Allah be blessed”
Carefully check and if necessary then arrest
If he calls it “discrimination,” what do we care
Good sense can be far more important than fair
Categories:
turbaned, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
The stench of gasoline and gore
permeated the encampment.
I am a prisoner of war
And I’m held in a stinking tent
that I share with a gun toting
taliban soldier. His black eyes
staring intently and gloating
as though I were a trophy prize
whose head would soon hang on a stick
for all his turbaned insurgents
to pelt with stones and broken bricks.
I expect his malevolent
Nature to vent with certainty
which translates: it’s curtains for me!
Categories:
turbaned, war
Form:
Rhyme
In the semi-arid suburb, Medina,
A high pitch of sound echoed.
It dopplered through misty shrubs.
A helical dawn goes tidally.
The Pathfinder: stepped,
deep nodded, starry-eyed,
Scarfed fragrant keffiyeh.
Reeled a full throttle of forgiven,
Headed to his students.
The teaching of liberty,
Primed course of life.
Categories:
turbaned, blessing, inspiration, leadership,
Form:
Naat
Hills pull their blankets out
and leave bare their naked spines
permitting Junes and me
to Summer there
Streams must appear to Him
as traveling caravans
The painted leaves like prisms do
with hues of rumpled Persian rugs
All seems Persia has pulled it's banners out
and march off to the sea
Turbaned poplars and lakes like tents
Is it jocosity?
Categories:
turbaned, allusion, beauty, dream, earth,
Form:
“Couldn’t we all just be right?”
At the hind end of the elephant holding its tail; the first blind man said.
“Rotten luck all of us being blind!” said the blind, seated man hugging a leg.
“Perhaps, this entity is a snake.” Said the skinny blind man squeezing the trunk.
“Every one knows there is only ONE!” screamed the blind child astride.
“Don’t holler at you’re elders.” The turbaned tail wiggler shouted.
“Everyone I know thinks there’s MANY”. Said the blind woman rubbing toenails.
“Unlikely, very unlikely,” they bickered. “It’s a Snake.” “It’s a Tree”. “It’s a rope!”
“Maybe we should ask IT.” Said the child, and she laughed till she fell off.
Categories:
turbaned, faith
Form:
Acrostic