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Best Turk Poems

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Wandering Turk by williams, john

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The Best Turk Poems

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Smokey Joe's Cafe

My father was a preacher
stood for everything good,
took my mother’s virginity
I was born to the sisterhood.

They left me on a stairway
a ghostly place to be,
down some old back alley
near to a South Auckland quay.

Found I was in the morning
by someone going to work,
he decided to keep me
this understanding old Turk.

Owner of a coffee house
down town in Branston square,
grew up I guess lucky
by someone born to care.

He gave to me his name
that stands above the door,
a photo of me in a frame
in a basket full of straw.

So here I am heavenly blessed
all down to one lucid day,
with a name ne’er to rest
Smokey Joe’s Cafe!

© Harry J Horsman 2012   

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.


For this Turk Turku is a 1-horse
city but he has got to have horse
sense. He will not be as happy as a peacock in Turkey.
Hindi, the Turk word for turkey, is how we'll call this turkey.
Hindi, when living in Turkey, was a horse
dealer. Today he's no longer into horse
trading. He quit selling that drug. One morning
when he got up all his belongings were gone
He was shocked & almost started mourning
over this theft like a baby. His gun

gone too. Instead of going bananas
he sat down & thought: "That a lot of my country fellas have a monkey
on their backs is my bad! I won't cry over my pilfered pelf! No more monkey
business! From now on I decide to be a good egg!
I'm starting a new life! Today I cease being a yegg"
The Turk turkey put all his eggs
in one basket & wended his way to Turku!

He got a job in a Turkish bath as a front desk clerk. One noon he met a not
pigheaded porky from Alaska who told him had quit smoking blunt cold turkey
of late & was quite itching to relapse. Hindi didn't want to be a cold turkey
nowadays so he gave him advice on withdrawal. He jotted down some
notes for the porcupine to read & apply & didn't ask, at all, a sum
of money in exchange for the nice advice. The porky thanked him a lot & got
inside the bath. Finn tongue was Greek to Hindi
Whenever he had a chance, took a gander at

the phrasebook to learn Finnish.
At 5 pm he was glad to finish
his shift get the puck
out of that place
go home have duck
soup & plaice.
He wanted to invite the hake for supper. The latter
refused, didn't want to feel like a fish out of water.
Hindi, quite offended, told him off but it was like water
off a duck's back. He didn't want dinner alone, so
he thought who else could come. Bingo! The sow!
And she did. He did indeed bring home the bacon.
The food was very simple to prepare. It was duck
soup. He was cocksure the sow would love duck
soup & plaice. For dessert, a piece of cake
they'd have. Cooking all this was a piece of cake
without doubt. When nosh was ready, the sow
brooded over & said: "Wait a sec. This is so
weird. You invited the hake, a fish, to eat plaice.
You're eating duck & you're a turkey. In place
of eating explain. Are you a cannibal?" "Clam
up & pig out!" he said, not happy as a clam.

"O In a pig's eye I will! You are such a cold fish!
Horsefeathers! Besides, I am no longer hungry!
I've never seen anything like this in Hungary!"

"I eat duck soup and, if I want to, I cook my goose!"

The sow, horrified, at once did for sure vamoose.

Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2014

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Escape from the Turkish Slavery

The Escape from the Turkish Slavery
(Ukrainian historic folk song)

There broke into the Tartar sprites,
And they captured my daughter, nice,
Marusyna, my daughter, dear,
I remained with one son in fear.
And there came others- my son was enslaved,
And a widow, a poor orphan, I remained.
The third time, they took me too, an old soul...
... a Turk took me to the service,
I began to toil and slave
Serving the foe every day.
The daughter didn’t recognize her nurse
Having given her the works, the worst:
With the hands- to spin the yarn, fine,
With the little feet- to lull the child,
To watch the flock- with the eyes…
They found themselves in one place
All three meeting face to face.
When the daughter was recognized by the mother
And, when also confessed the brother…
They were united with one another.
Then the daughter began to tell the Turk,
That's my brother, this is my mother,
Then, the Turk began to trust them.
He entrusted them with all his goods.
They did everything, not to delude
Thinking, dreaming of their home.
When the Turk and daughter were going to the ball,
They handed the keys from the houses, all;
The son and the mother were taking the golden keys,
The souls of the slaves from the cellars to release,
Saddling the horses to start their way
To travel back home again.
Oh they were crossing the Danube, Dunahj,
The Turks, low-natured, were on a catch-ride.
On the other bank, they shouted:
"Oh Ivan, Ivan!
You know and you know,
And take the infusion of wormwood,
And, you will know even better for good! "
Chieftain Ivan Korsun began to narrate:
"I crossed the Danube River -
Denied the enemy forever! "

(Translation from Ukrainian into English by Ivan Petryshyn)
The Escape from the Turkish Slavery

Copyright © Ivan Petryshyn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Wandering Turk

A Turk living in old Istanbul
Drank raki until he was full,
He tried riding home on his donkey
But his steering was wonky , 
He somehow ended up in Kabul.

Copyright © john williams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

When I Was Twentysomething: 1980s

I saw a man die who took a stance
I saw he just wanted to give peace a chance

I saw the boycotts and the embargos
I saw the trafficking in human cargos

I saw hedge funds, junk bonds, oil and gold
I saw a woeful deficit in the Third World

I saw a royal prince and princess in a carriage
I saw there was a curse upon that marriage

I saw three days of music in the sun
I saw time stand still as my head spun

I saw a cowboy on the hill - a matinee idol
I saw shots fired in a nation's capital

I saw helmets, a riot squad, a barricade
I saw from the terraces the last test played

I saw a new disease that affects us all
I saw no-one is immune to its deadly pall

I saw a Nazi butcher - an act of unrepentance
I saw him found guilty and sentenced

I saw ash and dust turn day to night
I saw this happen with a trembling might

I saw a Young Turk in a war he could not win
I saw the end of an era closing in

I saw solidarity in a Polish shipyard
I saw a changing of the guard

I saw a new wave and I didn't like it one bit
I saw music and pop culture take a hit

I saw a great earthquake far and wide
I saw the rubble with people inside

I saw gas and poison leak in Bhopal village 
I saw them left to die and clean up the spillage

I saw a hostage in a foreign land
I saw a line drawn in the desert sand

I saw an iron maiden order a fleet set sail
I saw her resolute that she not fail

I saw the world united for a day
I saw the dead and dying motionless lay

I saw myself travel back in time again
I saw my journey end in Port of Spain

I saw in the heavens a countdown to death
I saw the stunned crowd hold its breath

I saw clouds of death for miles around
I saw a concrete tomb on the ground

I saw uprising in the holy land
I saw that the world needs a helping hand

I saw seabirds and fish smothered in oil
I saw the leaking tankers the natural world spoil

I saw the frogmen and a rainbow warrior
I saw it sinking in the harbour

I saw the golden age of greed so brash
I saw a bull run then I saw a crash

I saw an evil empire fracture and fall
I saw its future written on a wall

I saw peace in my time between East and West 
I saw the Nobel Peace Prize to that attest

I saw a last revolt against state sponsored fear
I saw it crushed in the Peoples's Square

I saw my reflection in a dead pool
I saw a dreamer, a pretender, and a fool

I saw in my solitude a wonderful sight
I saw I found a voice and I began to write

I saw in the mirror a living ghost
I saw I was a slave to what I feared most

I saw this decade through the eyes of a man
I saw it end just like it began

                     May 2008

Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

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I spoke with a young man
of the singer I loved as a
young man myself--a woman
with angel voice and the long
curl-dense hair of a temptress:
he had never heard her name.

Nor had he ever heard of them,
that world beating band whose music 
we danced to underneath the 
boardwalk, a stone's throw from 
the ocean's eternal caressing.

"They were famous!" I almost
cried out, till I realized his world
was not mine. His is living, here, now,
breathing-- while mine is lost, dead, 
revived only in silent reminiscence.

So our chat continued-- I asked him
about favorite epic movies. Had he 
seen the one with the brooding man
who led the magnificent Arab charge
'gainst the cruel Turk? How about the 
doctor searching endlessly for Laura
across the eternal Russian plains?

No, never even heard of them, he said,
but then added, in a hopeful tone,
he did know about that Civil War movie,
though he had never seen it. Truly,
all goes away with the wind.... 

Copyright © L. J. Carber | Year Posted 2014

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Holiday High Jinx

Or catching up with the holidays… They’re a great family treat, for all to see…

In the summer Dragon catches lightening bugs, and thinks they promise us fireworks.
In the fall Dragon catches Lady Bugs in the house, he thinks they give us Jack Frost.
Capturing Jack Frost gives us, Dragon does think, snow for the snowy kind of sports.
In the winter Dragon chases Santa Clause wherever he can find him. Why? Because…
He thinks he’ll get more presents, holding Santa hostage, to ransom back to the elves! 
Santa explained he doesn’t play Hide N Go Seek, by being put inside his Santa bag.

Santa sooo loves Dragon, that he never catches on. But don't worry! We’ll let him go! 
Certainly, just before Christmas Time, and he’ll leave with a Ho! Ho! Ho! You know!
It also works with the Easter Bunny in the spring! He gets Great Easter Eggs Supreme!
Try it! You'll like it, he says! Tho his mind can become quite absurd, in his schemes.
It worked at Halloween, tho the witches stopped Dragon from getting them. How you ask?
By turning him into a frog, his costume did WIN! WIN! WIN! Dragon was popular, again!

Dragon was disappointed, he grabbed a turkey, and it didn’t give him a pumpkin pie! 
Silly Dragon! Catching a turkey won’t make them give you pumpkin pies! NO! NO! NO! 
Sooo HOW do you explain to a Dragon that Turkeys do NOT bring pumpkin pies? 
He’s ALWAYS heard they’re ‘The Guest of Honor’ where those pies DO show up! 
Inviting one to dinner is NOT exactly the same as, What our Dragon thinks? Yep!
HE does have an innocent and gentle, though somewhat, STRANGE kind of mind! 

But holding one hostage won’t get a ThanksGiving blessing, from the Turkey, I think!
A few pecks and other boo boo's perhaps, but no blessings! Darn! Now what am I to do? 
Geez!  Guess I’ll have to invite a Turkey for Thanksgiving and then cook a ham. 
After all, I really don't want to insult an honored guest, you know! 
Though, our newly adopted Aunt is eyeing that big old Turkey cooking pan... 
Sigh… She is NOT going to like our decision, to let that darn Turkey…

Give the ThanksGiving Blessing! Yes, I’m going to make Dragon Happy! 
No one likes a grumpy Dragon, or a grumpy old witch!
I doubt passing her ham, will make her happy. More likely to grump, and to twitch…
Maybe I'd better keep any sharp utensils away from her! After all…It's just not courteous… 
To eat an Honored Guest. Oh Boy! This is really going to be a memorable Holiday feast!!! 
Chuckle... Stay tuned... Will the feathers fly? Will our Aunt fly away on her broom? 
Or… Will she…Take said broom… and chase Old Turk around the room? 

Will Dragon get blessed or pecked by a Turkey? And will I write about it? Yep! 
You know, that I would!  Indeed I just did, as that pie sailed so elegantly thru the room! 
Yep! Catching up with the holidays, has a somewhat different meaning, definitely… Here! 
At our house! But like all Holiday traditions, to us, they are just as important… As to most. 
So have a Happy Thanksgiving… no matter… how… you celebrate… Folks!
--- Dragon--- put those pies down--- You know you have to share! 
--- Sigh --- Now I’ve got pie in my hair! --- And a tad in my eye! 
--- WELL, Here We Go! Let the FUN Begin…

Written 11-12-2016

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2016

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Motor City 2016 Champion

 2016 Motor City Open Champion

It has to happened, this day has to come...
When a low ranking player defied the odds as they come..

In a place called the Motor City, showcasing a world squash tournament...
All the  the world's best men squash players are gathered in numbers...

Ranked a modest 22 in the world ,there was Ali Farag from Egypt ..
Aged 23, he is a another young squash player from the Land Of The Pyramids..

Last year he was a  88th in world rankings, was knocked out in the 1st round..
Having won 3 PSA tournaments prior to Motor City, now he was a different man...

Ranked 7th in this Motor City Tournament, Ali Farag had a daunting path indeed...
For in the second round, there was the world number one , Mohd El Shorbagy...

Facing a young man stout in heart and full of confidence, Shorbagy was rattled...
The young turk, an upstart by his standards, was of the same high standard..

Shorbagy took the first, a close one it was,  only to trailed in the next 2 games...
Shorbagy as world number one, he gave a mighty effort and won the 4th game..

Going into the final 5th game, no quarter was given, none were asked...
Point for point, they fought, probed each other's game as they rallied till the last...

The young Ali Farag,  he showed the mettle of a champion to knock out his rival..
A final 12-10 win, and he has created the biggest upset win of this tournament....

Next round was the semifinals, world no.9 Mathieu Castagnet, a Frenchman ...
Ali Farag fought and rallied hard, emerging a 3-1 winner after a long 78 minutes..

When the finals next came along, highly experienced Nick Matthew was The Man...
As world no.3 squash superstar, Nick was just as eager to be a winner,...

Youth versus experience, a young upstart going up against the 35 year old Nick....
It was an engrossing match of top quality squash that lasted all but 50 minutes...

For when the chips were down and curtains about to fell, the youthful Ali Farag.. 
He presevered and showed his class,  bedazzling  Nick Matthew 3-1 in 50 minutes..

So it has come to past, the youngest ever champion there in Motor City Open...
Ali Farag from Egypt, he took out 3 top-10 players to emerge 2016 champion!!!!

WOW !!!

Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2016

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WAKE UP by Anna Lo P

"Wake up, wake up" my sleepyhead Turk
"Wake up, wake up" my dear sleeping beau
each time I do this, I am so happy
because finally I can see 
your sweet smiles, intended just for me.

Yes, your smile, smiles that make me smile
though it really wasn't there for me to see
because you're so far away, lands & seas
I just close my eyes so I can see it 
with all my heart, I believe it.

"Wake up, wake up" so i say, again & again
and that your consciousness can be regain
staying you awake I always intend to do
so you can hear me say "ILOVEYOU" so true..

..xoxo my dear "YASAMAK"

Copyright © Anna Lo | Year Posted 2012

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Of Nicol And Dtk Lee

It is amazing yet so true  about top notched sports stars... 
There is always a time when they're the undisputed stars...

They'll be top seeded in all the major tournaments they entered in...
And unsurprisingly and unceasingly they  perform to cement their top billing....

At such periods in time, their reign is sublime and they're the ones to beat...
Probably their aura of being top seeds quelled the fight out of many a lower seed..

Only in such periods when time seems to stand still as they reign supreme....
Best exemplified by Datuk Nicol Ann David who was 109months queen supreme ...

Like any other champion, she gets dethroned but she'll soon regain her top ranking...
But as age catches up, her subsequent reign is not going to be smooth sailing...

It's impossible for her to equal ever again that record setting 109months reign....
It took  years for her exorable climb up to such a pinnacle of excellence...

For a champion, long hours and  back breaking training sessions are unseen ......
And a professional teamwork are in place to ensure such perennial dominance...

But the fact remains, after a period of unceasing dominance....
All champions, whatever their game, will fade into the distant horizon...

Makes you wonder, stars of yesteyears, if age is not in the equation...
Will their mastery, skills and experience match new and upcoming champions?

Take a look at Datuk Lee Chong Wei in badminton, he was once the top honco...
Losing was never an option and his invincibility was an aura lesser players yield pronto...

After an unfortunate enforced lay off from badminton due to suspected  drug misuse....
Therein lies several episodes of labourous climb back into the world rankings...

These days yesteryear champions  are unceremoniously chucked out of rankings...
Each time an eager young turk charges into the finals and resets the ensuing rankings...

Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015

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We all love

A Christian family will wake up every morning, 
Brush their teeth, get dressed and go to work,
And have a dog, a car and strive to be happy, 
Regardless if they’re Greek or Aussie or Turk.

And a Muslim family will relax in their home, 
Talk and laugh about what happened that day.
And they all have big ambitions to contribute, 
And be social with cheese and a fine cabernet.

While a Pagan family love to go to the beach,
Go swimming, light a fire and play games.
And then, at home, developing their pictures,
And hanging them around the house in frames.

We are all the same, alike, we’re all an equal,
In the way we live, love, lust, grow, and share.
Regardless of our religious bend we all help,
We all love peace and security, we all care.

22nd Sept for Ironic Zink's what is society contest. a bit long but I enjoyed writing this.

Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016

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The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Twenty-Eight

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Eight

Other media meanwhile busy with who’s sleeping with whom
Relying on New-Sweep and Thyme to make loud front-page zoom
Mainly of those who leapfrog into top power palaces
On whether de Beauvoirs or transvestites be given more room

Dohr took dire toll on the High Prelate’s laboured vocal chords
And just as the Chief pow-wowed with advisors and legal boards
So did His Holiness with a delegation come from afar
The results as well as can be expected turned out: Discord!

The wily Franquist woman counselor slammed the Chief’s car door
And bee-lined the barred gates of the trysting hotel’s portico
The Chief sent Commandant in hot pursuit of bent-backed woman
Scarf drawn over pockmarked scalp limpet-mouthed suction sore

As the dohr throngful of the Faithful streamed out queues formed for asr
The Commandant waylaid the Imam come out for some air:
“…ad subjiciendum… Omar…Tent Maker’s prodigal heir…”
“Means thou Umar ibn Al-KHattap…Exalted Caliph Sire?” 

Non-plussed the Commandant looked hard at Writ in his thick hands:
“Your Holiness! Be it thy pleasure to peruse these commands!”
One yea-sayer read aloud: “Oooo..maaaar ibn al-Khaaayyaaaamm…”
“Who? Must be that drunken half-Turk by rich widows favour finds!”

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

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My bestie and me

My bestie friend is always in my heart
Knew we would from the start
We clicked and nicked.
Sucked and swallowed
Crazy days and nights that followed
Nina and Ma’s and pinching cars
and having carverys down the starr
People say we both berserk that
 Lisa-Jane Costigann and Rachel Ruthless Turk

Copyright © Lisa Costigan | Year Posted 2016

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Zerk the Berserk

Zerk was a lurking berserk
who lived in the murky-murk of the cirque 
by the smirking Turk 
Zerk was irking a-jerkin’ and a draught of perkin
Zerk was a-joying his shirker’s approach towards work
Zerk was a-starking, a-barking, and a-marking the world with his dirk
Zerk was a-perking for a-harking about bo-razzle and bo-really fools
Zerk was a-quirking, an abundance of uncorking bottles, un-forking sustenance, 
            and un-storking women
Zerk was not a follower of any kirk
Zerk was a-hoping to clerk for an irksome and biased hipster jerk 
Zerk was always a-hanging out with his friends Breschel, and Lurch
Zerk contributed his artwork to the world, 
Zerk was by no means a berk, instead he was quite the intellectual quirk
Zerk was always a-yerking out at the berks with his political and philosophical propaganda
Zerk was always a-chirking up Lurch with his meditative-mindset 

Copyright © Eric Shelman | Year Posted 2013

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The Ruba'iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Thirty

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Thirty

While the Mullah versed in the Hadith and fiqh harangued his flock
All over the milling crowds outside plastic cups did hands lock
By four even before the dazzling Cyclop-eye pierced the gloom
The mosque’s Administrator convened a crisis meeting ad hoc:

“Be it known from this hour forth no more couscous nor green tea
Will be served for our stocks – thanks to chefs – stand consumed empty
The hallal shelves at malls’ “Square-Oven” and “Prix-de-Chef” stores
Stand undermined transparent since noon this Faithfuls jamboree!”

The King of Morocco promised his palace tea consignments 
The Begum Ali her weight in gold for present requirements
Local residents boiled water to brew other sachet scents
A steady stench rose like humus vapours for lack of toilet vents

Rowdy commotions outside drowned the holy deliberations
To bring the harrowed Mullah out on the Faithfuls’ positions:
Braying half-Turk clad in jellaba borne over heads by hands
Wan Quixotic head with beard wobbling through elucubrations:

“Set not this Tent-Maker Miscreant on consecrated land
Let drop this putrid loin of meat on tarmac or public sand!”
“Sire!” quoth the Administrator, “This be no Tent-Maker’s son!
Forsooth, he’s of no other than the Tent-Vendor’s vagrant band!”

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

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Since Erst


Skilled like James T. Kirk
Fred Durst
And William Randolph Hearst

Putting in work
And occasionally going berserk
In and out of dirt

For all that it's worth
Respect the universe
And Earth
Regardless of if times keep getting worse

Is there such a thing as a curse?
Or does it need more evidence and research?

Debts becoming hard to reverse
And certain bills due on the first

Met a nurse
Wearing a Louis Vuitton purse
And Converse
She began to flirt

Told me she liked Lil Durk
Hot Boy Turk
And Lil Uzi Vert

So we had some home cooked surf n' turf

Then girl said she had something special for dessert
What happened next was that she took off her shirt and skirt
With a smirk

Next day saw someone continuing to lurk
It was a red alert
Due to them trying to usurp
All of my hard work

No matter the hurt
Still things are being learnt
So long as I immerse
Instead of remaining inert

Not a fan of percs
But I do like purp

All across the Earth
Got to search for work offering even better perks
Near and far from any birch

Cooked Jamaican Jerk
Chicken, and due to a faulty timer, it was almost burnt

B.S. leaving me irked

Close and beyond areas where materials may be dearth
Worldwide, people with responsibilities that they shirk

Since erst
Guns single shot, semi to fully automatic, or with some kind of burst

Regardless of if I ever again go to church
In the end will I be forgiven for all my dirt?

By: Dalton Ogletree

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

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The Travelling Man

Known before time.
One big story.
A studious thinker.
Shaped for purpose,
With a valid C.V.,
Government sealed.
A Banjamite Turk, 
Sharpened for subjection. 
Approved a stoning.
A religious enforcer,
Blinded for construction,
Knowing who let it.
Saved, feared, then trusted.
A verbally adept writer,
Commissioned to carry hope,
Called, to open eyes.
Strengthen through adversity,
Buffeted, barred, bitten.
Character modeller ,
Signposting others,
Sharing from his heart.
An example of us,
Who follow, one of many,
Each telling his story.
Each knowing on which Rock we stand.
Acts 9:15, 13:2-3, 23:11, 27:35, 47. 1Cor. 2:1.

Copyright © NEIL ALEXANDER | Year Posted 2017

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The Adventures of Enea, Part 6 of 13

Enea is Pope! (1)
It doesn’t look good.
There is restiveness around the ‘hood.
Naples is in turmoil, a bastard claiming the throne –
but is he even a bastard?  And isn’t he owned
by the French?  Cardinal d’Estouteville
is treating the Tiara as a done deal.
Has he really as good as won?
Then the Papacy’s off (again) to Avignon.

At the gates
of the Papal States
is a general with an army.
He’s irrupting through,
and proceeding to
slice the land up, like salami.

Piccinino knows
this is how it goes:
there’s no spine to the Holy See, see?
Let him take terrain
on the Umbrian plain –
but must we lose Assisi?

Worse incursions are happening than these.
Hordes of Persians and Medes and Pharsees
(the irrepressible Turk)
are making short work
of humanity’s treasury – Europe.

They’re going to sack Italy soon.
The Muslims took Athens in June.
(When you need it, where’s NATO?)
For the city of Plato,
the game is decidedly up.

When some prince claims a “national church”,
for his motive it’s not hard to search:
they’re stashing the cash for themselves
that once weighed-down the Vatican shelves,
thereby leaving the pope in the lurch.

North Europe views Rome with disdain,
and for reasons not pure, but profane.
Their domestic corruption
brooks no interruption –
they just hate being Ultramontane.

Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017

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The Call of the East 1

I felt a bit like Humbert, or John Proctor, 
an ageing vulture drawn to fresh young flesh. 
She was a pretty, witty Turkish doctor 
(so, not exactly plundering the creche!) 

She seemed to like me, though we'd never met. 
"Why don't you come to Turkey?" she'd implore. 
(You've guessed by now I met her on the Net!) 
My mind was moving that way, more and more. 

Some hanker for one evening with Stan Getz, 
Cafe A-Gogo, in the wee small hours. 
My fantasy was always minarets 
in Istanbul, those slender marble towers 

(which seem too graceful for this ugly world) 
and me, enthralled by shape and song and air, 
as muezzin's warble hovered, wavered, curled, 
calling the faithful to their morning prayer. 

One Easter, I had four days with no work. 
For once, the bank account was almost full. 
"I'll go see Aysin," (thus was named my Turk), 
"since Ankara must be close to Istanbul." 

One word about the people of that land. 
They're nosey. Answer questions, they'll ask more. 
They meet an Arab, they can sell him sand. 
They're merchants. Sent to Hell, they'd open a store. 

Turks want to know two things: the area, 
in meters squared, encompassed by your flat, 
and please confirm that Greeks are hairier 
and darker-skinned than them ("Greek girls are fat?") 

Met at the airport by a courtesy car, 
I'm gliding through the magic Eastern night, 
fielding the driver's questions - "Is it far 
from Maine to Malibu? Do I look white?" 

Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The bleached bones of ANZAC

They were straight of limb as the bullets flew
Made up of true blues and fair dinkums too
When they landed on that bloody April day
They were told to push inland to ensure the stay

The fighting was fierce and brave men fell
Australian, New Zealander and Turk in the hell
The bravest men fought the hardest fight
And went inland further than others might

They fought and they died showing they had pluck
The Turks told of wounded men not giving up
Struggling it out to the last bullet they fought
And were left lying facing the foe as they ought

In the end when they evacuated ANZAC Cove Beach
With those brave men lying in the sun out of reach
The Turks left them as the sun bleached their bones white
As the days turned into months into years as we won the fight

In 1919 Charles Bean led the Australians back to Gallipoli
And they searched the battlefield from beach to the gullies carefully
The bones were gathered and were identified for some
As the  graves were lined up and headstones stand in the sun

These men who came from across the world for a war
Are now part of the Legend of ANZAC for all to explore
But I wonder on those windy hills where they stayed and didn't flee
There are young Australians looking out quietly to the sea.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2017

Details | Turk Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Charge at Beersheba

The Australian Light Horse had rode all night
And the troopers were all spoiling for a fight
For they remembered mates lose on the fatal shore
When the Turks defeated the Gallipoli Invasion flaw

But Chauvel wanted to wait 'til the sun was down
And so they rested all day in front of Beersheba town
At 4.30 pm on the 31st October 1917 he called Grant in
And gave him the order to attack in full charge to begin

So the troopers lined up with the strongest at the front row
And Grant told them all the charge would be a great show
Without a sabre they were told to draw their bayonet
And they would face the entrenched Turks in their bent

So they started off at a slow trot in breast a-line
The shells fell amongst them in a shrapnel whine
The troopers rode as they yelled the bush calls of Coo-eee
And in the battle excitement they all would in glory see

So the valiant horsemen rode on with shells and bullets flying about
Some fell dead or wounded but still the others rode their courage to flout
By now the charging troopers where riding hard in full battle cry
They kept on charging towards their foe and didn't dismount on by

They galloped as nearer the trenches they came
The horses smelt the wells as they came into the frame
And their thirst drove their mounts faster on
As their parched mouth and thirst became their urgent song

The German and Turkish officers stood behind the trench site
And waited for the Light Horse to dismount to fight
In other battles they had come to expect this to occur
As the Light Horse was mounted infantry and not calvary to defer

They didn't dismount and the  surprise meant Turks were unprepared
And their gun sights meant they were firing high as fared
The Light Horse was able to ride under the Turkish guns
And attack the trenches as the Turk soldiers away runs

But the Turkish bullets sometimes found their mark
And Light Horsemen fell from their mounts into the trenches dark
Here the fight became desperate and was hand to hand
This was the fight that made this charge so grand

The German officers ran to destroy the wells
One and then two were blown in desperate spells
But the horsemen were too good and saved the day
With seventeen wells saved and precious water to stay

When the fight had finished and the Turks rounded up
The horses were led in to have their fill of the water sup
And the Light Horse opened up the Palestine and Syria land
To be liberated from the Ottoman Empire in a grand plan.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2017