Unhappily uprooted to Siberian Xenia,

A delicate old geezer born in balmy Califeenya


      Through blizzards

And spent his winters beseeching El Niña.


There was a whimsical theologian named Clancy

Whose hermeneutics were totally postmoderny.

      Nothing’s really firm

      Not even your sperm

Might as well resort to tea and necromancy.



There once was a man from the land of LAN

Who wandered into the land of WAN --

      Alphabet soup,

      Icon won ton,

A ton of futons, WEP, WOP and oooOOP.



A certain unorthodox young chef of Cob Cos

Creatively transcended the usual corncobs and goose.

      Famous he was,

      His dish the buzz –

‘twas corned cod squab on a loose bed of cous cous.


A certain youngish multiculturist named Wyandotte

Talked with consummate sensitivity the liberal argot.

      A cultural enthusiast,

      A gifted schmoozist,

Every old sot she karma-lized from Huguenot to Hottentot.


There once was a flabby old lady from Wichita,

Who, distraught by her down-sagging jaws,

     Eschewed all surgeons,

     And spent her simoleons

Marinating and steaming her jowls at pricey spas.


A certain astronomically rich old Muslim,

Reeking with petroleum, moola, and wampum,

      When played out

      Was laid out

In his own marbled mossy Muslim mauslem


There was in old Timbuktu

A certain cocky cockatoo.

      Disagreeable Bird,

      He was only heard

To cackle, “The same to you.”


There was a certain canny con of Sing-Sing

Who for a ruse refused all dishes but ginseng,



Paroled was the con by Sing-Sing as a ding-a-ling.


A certain young lady, Miss Moppet Garcia,

Was urged her food to eata! eata! eata!

      She ate her curds

      But not her whey.

Close, Garcia, but no Chiquita.


There was once a pirate piranha

Who was supposed to nibble Anna's fanna.

      He just nuzzled her derriere

      Here and there.

Sorry, old boy; close but no banana.


Once there was a person who played the kazoo

And dreamed of awards and caboodles of kudos.

      But, boohoo,

      The poor yahoo!

As welcome and wanted his kazoo as kudzu.


An anomalously long, attenuated, gangling youth,

Was known as Moses ("the Dribbler") Muth.


      Is for the tall

But he was born out of bounds, so tall was Muth!


As is not uncommon among old geezers

He became obese, obese-er and obese-er,

      By her attributed

      To not being food inhibited

(As per wifey's notes affixed to oven and freezer.)



There was a young spy named Levi

Whose dermis was peppered with nevi.


     And dots

From sigh to thigh to high five to Sinai.



There was a certain lisping cockroach

Who  got himself a speech coach.

     His diphthongs

     Were always wrong

But his vowels were above reproach.



There was a young organ student name Jude

Whose major professor called him “dude.”

     As pop culture proper;

     For classicists a cropper,

For Jude admired only Dietrich Buxtehude







A long time ago, when I was Program Director of a Pathology Residency in Dayton Ohio, there was a large influx of FMGs (foreign medical graduates), mostly from the Middle East.  In those happy days before 9/11, Poems were created, odes, not IEDs or Surges.  These odes to two of our graduating FMGs were presented at the residency graduation of 1988.  Period pieces from a forgotten era, forgotten allusions.  Who's Vanna White?



Maher, As you leave our basement nest

For research fellowship out farther west,

We your teachers, Bylsma, Kime and Meng,

Linda, Paul and Pat, our heads with sorrow hung,

Release you now from our protection

And send you off to be, alas, a Texan


Ah yes!  Now as much American as pizza Hut's soft drinks with fizz,

Maher hails from the land of pharaoh, pyramid and Sue-iz


From the land of the long, long shaft called an obelisk,

To where the IRS while shafting coos politely tisk-tisk.


From the land where Horus was the hope

To land of presidential horoscope.

From the land where Joseph was an honorable chief of staff,

To where Donald Regan gets the last and marketable laugh.


From the land of the unending Nile

To the land of the endless palimony trial.


From where the Sphinx is the momumental sight

To the land of Madonna and Vanna White.


From the land of hieroglyphics, papyrus and lotsa lotus

To the land of journalistic generally liberal hocus-pocus


From the land of mummy and King Tut

To the land of yummy-yummy and the tummy tuck.


From the land of Nefertiti

To the World of a mouse named Minnie.


From where the Rameses was a pharaoh and not a condom,

To the land of hot dogs with mustard on'dem.


From the land of canopic jars to ours with pulltop cans

Engines with cams, Uncle Sams.

From Red Sea to  Sea to Shining Sea.

All this, the odyssey of our heroic FMG.


O, MidEast is MidEast, MidWest is MidWest, the poet cried,

Adding, ne'r the twain shall meet,

Sorry, Rudyard, your words, well, slightly modified,

Along with manicotti also modified you'll have to eat.

So what shall we say here?

We say cheers for Maher,

Whom we now declare is honed to professional perfection,

And three cheers, hear-hear-hear, for the Ohio-Cairo Connection.



With a head overgrown with black curly hair he came to ask us

To make him wise in Pathology, this fine young man from Damascus

           All hair and ears,

       He stayed five years,

And now he knows it all and is as bald as an asterisk.




There once was a bearded shrink named Sigmund Freud

Who, having reduced everything to hormones malemployed

Whether psychosis or cirrhosis,

Halitosis or seborrheic keratosis,

Reduced himself to just an app on a smartphone Android.



There once was a tranyGen from Albaquirka

Who remained withdrawn within a big black burqa.

Wherein he, it, she,

Or whatever it be

Drove all pollsters, preachers, potential partners berserka.





Shall we, you and me, play hide and seek?

While I take a clearly leering peek

At your physique,

You play meek

And try to hide your genuine pique.



If you've engineered your budget to handle curds and whey,

And you’re thinking of buying some good Chardonnay,

Your preliminary question ought to be, “How much are they?”


If you’re contemplating cabernet sauvignon,

You’re in for daunting gallivanting hither and yon,

Eventually settling for a vintage Chateau Saskatchewan.


OFFENDED, rhyming all the way

Like every modern egg Humpty Dumpty was offended,

Or so he from atop his wall contended

Alas alack, he tumbled unsuspended, fractured, upended,

Too late his offendedness he then rescinded.



IPhone iPhone on the range,

Where never is heard

An intelligent word.


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Wesley Kime