John D. Farley©, 2009. (Yes, like all my crappy poems, it did happen, like real time, like now).
No, folks of MUSLIM leanin’, copyright for the big bloke is not my meanin’.
It’s for the fish he gave me out on the BRUNZ wall just today.
“Here John”, he said, “this feed is for you”, like, what can I say.
Catholic am me up bringing, but not much a believer can we note.
But MOHAMMED, well, he is MUSLIM, but for me he’s just an ordinary bloke.
Now then, who is the MOHAMMED to whom that I infer, and respect.
You may think it’s typical ‘johnfarlsbrunz’, bushy prose, crappy I expect.
So I will tell you a little story, on the rocky boardwalk, it happened just to day.
It’s about a simple gesture, a humbling nod, thanks without measure; from you I expect no pay.
Other people were present, DEBBIE, WAYNO, just chatting away the day.
We talked about life in general, our lives and where they stay.
We saw our first whale, spaslin’, bashin’, way down towards BYRON CAPE.
Every season we wait this occasion, “their coming north”, on the head the hairs and on the nape.
Debbie ‘plants her flowers’; she will give a silent prayer. Wayno and me just talk fishen’, trying to out do each other, we are blokes, so I guess that’s only fair.
“Have you seen the schools of mullet, upstream they are bound”. “Didn’t the rocky boardwalk, and, the sand dunes get a hefty pound”.
Then down the ‘boardwalk’ comes the little MUSLIM bloke.
And so we are, the gang of four, a rag tag bunch, a bunch of village folk.
Some friendly banter, time of day, then our prophet settles down to fish.
You see him silently give a prayer, “dear God, a fish is what I wish”.
Wont tarry now, from the briny came a creature slimy, “here John this ones for you”
“I accept your generous gift”. It’s in the bag, now it’s in the fridge, MAHOMMAD, you’re a jewel. It was that simple gesture from a little psychic bloke.
MOHAMMED, is his namesake, a person of the earth, but my MAHOMMAD is just a bloke, he is one of the VILLAGE folk.
John d farley©, 2009.