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When they came to shoe the horse of the sultan, along comes the beetle and sticks out her foot.
Forgiven
I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name,
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.
I put him in a match-box, and I kept him all the day ...
And Nanny let my beetle out -
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out -
She went and let my beetle out -
And Beetle ran away.
She said she didn't mean it, and I never said she did,
She said she wanted matches and she just took off the lid,
She said that she was sorry, but it's difficult to catch
An excited sort of beetle you've mistaken for a match.
She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn't mind,
As there's lots and lots of beetles which she's certain we could find,
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid -
And we'd get another match-box and write BEETLE on the lid.
We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:
'A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!'
It was Alexander Beetle I'm as certain as can be,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it must be Me,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought he ought to say:
'I'm very very sorry that I tried to run away.'
And Nanny's very sorry too for you-know-what-she-did,
And she's writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,
So Nan and Me are friends, because it's difficult to catch
An excited Alexander you've mistaken for a match.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sultan
If I were promised safety,
if I could meet the Sultan
I would say to him: O my lord the Sultan!
my cloak has been torn by your ravenous dogs,
your spies are following me all the time.
Their eyes
their noses
their feet are chasing me
like destiny, like fate
They interrogate my wife
and write down all the names of my friends.
O Sultan!
Because I dare to approach your deaf walls,
because I tried to reveal my sadness and
tribulation,
I was beaten with my shoes.
O my lord the Sultan!
you have lost the war twice
because half our people
has no tongue.
poem by Nizar Qabbani
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A Sultan's Daughter
I am the daughter of a Sultan and i need your love,
I am the daughter of a Sultan and i need your hand in marriage;
Come and see my father's wealth,
Come and taste my father's wealth,
For you are the only man in my mind.
A Sultan's daughter is what i am and i am in love with you,
So come and be my husband to be on this sweet love of mine.
Oh my handsome man, that is all that i am on this love;
'Asalaam-u-alaikum! ..... Wa-alaikum Salaam! ! '
Please come and let me take you to my father;
For you are the very man i want to marry.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Build Your Nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest on tenderness
The nest is yo' home and launcin' pad
Vibes ain't good gotcha' feelin' sad
Build yo' nest on love that tells it all
Gives you the strength to walk mighty tall
With a song in yo' heart most every day
song performed by by Earth Wind & Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 04 On The Advantages Of Silence Story 08
Several officials of Sultan Mahmud asked Hasan Muimandi one day what the sultan had told him about a certain affair. He replied: ‘You must yourselves have heard it.’ They rejoined: ‘What he says to thee he does not think proper to communicate to the like of us.’ He answered: ‘Because he trusts that I shall not reveal it. Then why do you ask me to do so?’
A knowing man will not utter every word which occurs to him.
It is not proper to endanger one’s head for the king’s secret.
Chariots Of Fire
The small dung beetles lot is a chariot of fire
For some it is a life of a slinking liar,
To get a wife he has to be tall
Fact is some are dam too small.
To get among the hen pecking lot
The big fellow has an easy choice on the spot,
After a hard day’s work rolling up the dung
He’s off home to his wife for dinner and fun.
The little chap dines alone like a single sire
Now for fun he saddles up his chariot of fire,
He rides off to the big guys love nest without any din
Sneaks past him, up to the loft for his wages of sin.
The beetle chick loves him for his gallantry and guts
Gives him love and dung biscuits in his hand she puts,
On his chariot of fire He sneaks off into the night
Silent satisfied disappears out of sight.
NB. FACT
Scientists found this behaviour of the smaller
Beetles and when dissecting them found the
Smaller beetle had bigger testes.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 01
Hasan Maimundi was asked that, as the Sultan Mahmud possesses so many beautiful slaves, each of whom is a marvel in the world, how it happens that he manifests towards none of them so much inclination and love as to Iyaz, although he is not more handsome than the others. He replied: ‘Whatever descends into the heart appears good to the eye.’
He whose murid’ the sultan is
If he does everything bad, it will be good.
But he whom the padshah throws away
Will not be cared for by anyone in the household.
If anyone looks with an unfavourable eye
Even the figure of Joseph will indicate ugliness
And if he looks with the eye of desire on a demon,
He will appear an angel, a cherub in his sight.
Hunger
A mole on a cheek is seen
As a beetle among roses
By the one who is sex hungry.
A mole on a cheek is seen
As a beetle in a pudding
By the one who is food hungry.
25.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beetle Time (Fun Poem 29)
I saw a little beetle,
on my way home one day.
“Excuse me Mr Beetle,
would you have the time?
You see I’ve left my watch at home.”
He looked up at me.
“Now let me see.
In the morning,
my shadow is in the west.
At noon,
I have no shadow at all.
In the afternoon,
my shadow is in the east.
Now I would put the time
right now at three o’clock,
because my shadow is north east.”
(2 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Flowers’ Nature
Forever the flowers and soil laugh,
Loveliness created me now
In forms of words and oceans.
The sea of grass manufactures
The mandibles of my beetle.
I am my beetle and I dine
On the heavenly clay.
Such flowers on earth are unequal,
For this time moments are made to me
Like the oceans and lands of sin.
Worst crimes fall in the row
And so ranks-and-files submit
To the flowerbeds, the florets,
And the plants of green leaves.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Build Your Nest
Maurice white & verdine white
Build yo nest
Build yo nest
Build yo nest
Build yo nest on tenderness
The nest is yo home and launcin pad
Vibes aint good gotcha feelin sad
Build yo nest on love that tells it all
Gives you the strength to walk mighty tall
With a song in yo heart most every day,
Is what you need along the way
Things get rough, pain comes around
Put up yo dukes, knock it to the ground
If it get back up, do it over again
Smack it hard on its chinny-chin-chin
Now things around you cant do you no wrong
Think about love in yo happy home
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 29
A vezier paid a visit to Zulnun Misri and asked for his favour, saying: "I am day and night engaged in the service of the sultan and hoping to be rewarded but nevertheless dread to be punished by him." Zulnun wept and said: "Had I feared God, the great and glorious, as thou fearest the sultan, I would be one of the number of the righteous."
If there were no hope of rest and trouble
The foot of the dervish would be upon the sphere
And if the vezier feared God
Like the king he would be king.
Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 20
A king with some of his courtiers had during a hunting party and in the winter season strayed far from inhabited places but when the night set in he perceived the house of a dehqan and said: ‘We shall spend the night there to avoid the injury of the cold.’ One of the veziers, however, objected alleging that it was unworthy of the high dignity of a padshah to take refuge in the house of a dehqan and that it would be best to pitch tents and to light fires on the spot. The dehqan who had become aware of what was taking place prepared some food he had ready in his house, offered it, kissed the ground of service and said: ‘The high dignity of the sultan would not have been so much lowered, but the courtiers did not wish the dignity of the dehqan to become high.’ The king who was pleased with these words moved for the night into the man’s house and bestowed a dress of honour upon him the next morning. When he accompanied the king a few paces at the departure he was heard to say:
‘Nothing was lost of the sultan’s power and pomp
By accepting the hospitality of a dehqan,
But the corner of the dehqan’s cap reached the sun
When a sultan such as thou overshadowed his head.’
Commanders Of The Faithful
The Pope he is a happy man,
His Palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I'm at home,
I'd like to be the Pope of Rome.
And then there's Sultan Saladin,
That Turkish Soldan full of sin;
He has a hundred wives at least,
By which his pleasure is increased:
I've often wished, I hope no sin,
That I were Sultan Saladin.
But no, the Pope no wife may choose,
And so I would not wear his shoes;
No wine may drink the proud Paynim,
And so I'd rather not be him:
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope,
And would be neither Turk nor Pope.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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A Dream
Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my Angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say:
‘O, my children! do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see:
Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropp'd a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home.’
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 36
There were two brothers: one of them in the service of the sultan and the other gaining his livelihood by the effort of his arm. The wealthy man once asked his destitute brother why he did not serve the sultan in order to be delivered from the hardship of labouring. He replied: "Why labourest thou not to be delivered from the baseness of service because philosophers have said that it is better to eat barley bread and to sit than to gird oneself with a golden belt and to stand in service?"
To leaven mortar of quicklime with the hand
Is better than to hold them on the breast before the amir.
My precious life was spent in considering
What I am to eat in summer and wear in winter.
O ignoble belly, be satisfied with one bread
Rather than to bend the back in service.
Cherry Avenue
And so you meet me
Down at the bar
7th and Cherry
That's where we are
And I promise not to take you down too far
Beetle takes a dollar
Benz will make a drink
Two will see you holler
No one wants to think
And it's que sera sera in black and pink
And so we dance
And my feet get lazy
All the stiffs here
They know I'm crazy for you
And so we dance
And the beat gets lost
And this jealous fool
Will pay the cost for you
On Cherry Avenue
Is this a crime
Or just a clever scheme
I want to make you mine
All your roads are green
And I promise not to show you what I've seen
Now it's closing time
Benz wipes down the bar
Beetle kills the lights
Cherry after dark
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sultan
I am the Sultan on your love,
So my sweet lady do open the door of your love for me;
I am the Sultan living next to your heart and,
I am in love with you my sweet lady.
I want to marry you so,
Come and open your sweet door of love to me;
For i have been studying you for a very long time among the ladies.
Come and let me marry you my beautiful woman,
For i still hope to see the day that you will be mine;
And thereafter, have you as a married wife to my Palace.
One day i will come to you with my officials,
One day i will knock at your door;
For you are the right woman needed t my Palace.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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First Flight
Brand new baby birds in a nest
don't you fall to the ground.
For there are too many predators waiting
and quietly lurking around.
Don't leave your nest 'til you can fly.
Be patient and bide your time.
Then when you feel your wings are strong
then out of your nest you'll climb.
Now see what you were born for.
Flap your wings and soar into the air.
The sky's the limit for such as you.
As for me I can only stare.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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