Looking through my window
Children playing around with slops
Dogs cats cows... singing in their own right
Trees mingling with the wind songs of praise
Some off to the bush for food,
Who the LION is none of their business
Africa Seems free.
On the streets shouting carrying screaming
Jesus Muhammad...
Working for heaven eden
Back home they cant spare a bean for their Neighbor!
but they speak in tongues....
Africa Seems free.
In class speaking French English Chinese....
speaking in your own right is a crime,
Poles day Pastor Sheik Bishop "vote your own"
Women in different skins long hair
Men in ear rings...
Africa Seems free.
Africa Seems free
while speaking French English Chinese...
while deep in religion of the Occidental and Oriental
while you eating screaming shouting... voting your own!
Are we free?
Are you free?
Are they free?
She gathers her arms for her nightly fight
to do battle with her hair, to “get it right”
she’s been cursed with unruly, super fine hair
that won’t cooperate and flies everywhere.
Oh, to have thick, voluminous hair
so sheik, so silky, so shiny and fair
spun layers of gold, or deep auburn flair
or lovely chestnut tones, “fabu-lair”!
But, alas, unwanted whispy is she
as she settles into her pin-curl “soirée”
she wrestles her head scarf to keep it tight
and prays it “stays put” while she sleeps at night.
In the morning, her second round fight resumes
unpinning her curls, knows they’ll fall flat real soon
next comes the teasing, the crimping, the spray
knowing the volume won’t last half a day.
Then sighing, with hand mirror, checks every spot
every turn, every angle, she does this a lot
I wait for my mother to finish her hair
If “it isn’t right” we’re not going anywhere!
Drawing-
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
Pencil, crayon, felt marker
I saw the pale cover of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the paper I paint.
Water dripping everywhere, how quaint
Does the paint make you shiver?
Does it?
Learning is observational process I’m drawing.
Observational process is learning designing.
Never forget the muzzy and muddled fuzzy learning.
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
6/7/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©
didn't get it
but thanks four playing
yeah i new it was for
and i knew it was knew
hide behind words
so
small
Anti cipation's what harm have cipation's ever done
be a lert we need more lerts
Two bees
might have been wasps( or not two bees)
Sheik Pear slavours from his feet
Dich he just ends
Poe never got the lala joke
ever writer ever born
emot ion s i have torn
threats i have worn
i can be corn
but if i have to warn
and with all my scorn
ever i've sworn
spitting pity like saliva
i write to be free of me
and was gone
Morning Sounds
by M. Griswold
06212000
I awake in the morning to all kinds of sounds.
First of which is me, snoring profound.
Next usually comes a burp and a fart ,
but generally speaking, I can't tell them apart.
Then comes the alarm clock ringing at me,
causing screams of confusion momentarily.
Banging frantically in the half darkened dawn,
I cuss to put an end to its clanging loud gong.
My other half rolls over and groans,
then lets out a big fart all of her own.
Sniffing in self violation she painfully moans.
God help the poor fella that shares her home.
A symphony of flushing can soon be heard
as we each take our turns at depositing turds.
Followed closely by snorting and hacking
as we clear our nasals of the snots unpacking.
A chorus of gargling, bad breath to be cured.
A shrill sheik or two of reflections mirrored.
Brushing of teeth brings that wash board effect.
Then the spattering of paste in the sink to eject.
After all that audio abuse, we finally arrive at this,
the best morning sound of all, a first morning kiss.
It makes it all worth the torture and horror to ears.
Of all those god awful sounds made over the years.
Richer than a platinum mountain,
more wealthy than a Sheik
The words I’m gifted lie bejeweled,
a fortune by their weight
No King or Titan, Earl endowed,
could match my treasured chest
Each word an ingot, phrase a bar
—my verse the Lord’s bequest
(St. David’s Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Should a Sheik seek a shave
Who'd shave a Sheik,
Sheik shavers should surely
So Sheik shavers Sheiks seek.
Entry for
Twist my Tongue Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
17/1/2020. Placed 3rd.
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.
Puckered lips
gentle peck upon the cheek
a red dress so sheik,
lean in close
whisper softly in my ear
hold back the pleasantry,
hug me tight
in sensual delight
it's me and you baby,
kiss me once, kiss me twice
oh, now that's very nice
the kiss to build a dream on.
Purple lilac bloom scents in spring
Purple wild flowers summer brings
Purple butterflies’ fluttering wings
Purple finches’ chorus they joyfully sing
Purple black raspberry ice cream treats
Purple colored hair highlighted in streaks
Purple printed scarves that look so sheik
Purple grapes that taste juicy and sweet
1/26/19
Purple 2 contest
Sponsor: Kevin Shaw
More Great Horn Poems Limerick Style
God from clouds produced a leak;
Turned into thunder from squeak;
A big feast,
In mid East,
And source of trauma was a sheik.
Were way ahead and completion beating;
Trump won and many problems is meeting
He always was knowing,
Golden showers flowing;
The devil in hell wants him to be greeting.
All options and goals Trump had eluded;
From parties excluded and not included;
A big bore,
Did ignore;
By him all of us had been badly deluded.
More Horn Great Poems Limerick Style
Businesses by Trump were being shorted;
Facts and figures were all badly distorted;
Have him fired;
Deported desired;
Into insane asylum, we had him escorted.
Trump we knew never believed in Triage;
So God did have to apply Holy message;
Of bad sin Trump was hit by big barrage.
Hope all of this will start off your day while
laughing and smiling.
Jim Horn
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
Teachers are doing work hard for your sake
Want you all to be like sweet and quiet lake
Whose water is drunk by all people in quake.
We teachers who work like an object opaque
Who stop harsh and heavy rain at daybreak.
We never care for our brain, body or backache
Whenever we see or feel hurt by your mistake.
What we expect from you is not any fruitcake;
But sincere efforts made by you for your sake.
Though sometimes you were beaten with stake,
It was solely for your own drawbacks to rake
So that I wished to make you well-known Sheik
Whom nobody on this cruel earth can overtake.
So have teacher’s respect for teacher's sake.
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
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),
THE MOTHER OF ALL ABAYA POEMS
(103rd Air Command Pilot Lady)
Well Colonel you may think you're Rudolph Valintino
and the sheik of the hundred and third air clown.
but this pilot ain't gonna ride no camel
and I ain't wearin no abaya to town.
So if you got your tent in a hizzy
remember this tin Lizzy
ain't wearin no abaya to town.
I been in your tent a time or two,
I'm the reason your camel got a big hump on his back.
but Colonel honey, this Salome knows a thing or two
and I ain't cuttin you no slack.
I drink your bootleg all night
but I ain't gonna ride that camel again
he got a strange look in his eye
and I ain't wearin no abaya to town.
© Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
aka Ron Wilson
I am the master
of planting time bombs in minds
so please, be kind, rewind
to uncover the disaster
the one plastered
across the face of every rabbi, sheik, marabout and pastor
who's teachings form vines
that when intertwined,
become the only limiting factors
i need not remind that signs
we see , daily are only coming faster
exige
its tragic, you see
this "idiocracy"
politics overseas
meaningless intervening's
but please.
open your eyes
open your minds
listen
and truly perceive what your minds have been missing.
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