in Poetry 105 Words

The Bambouti

Port Said, bustling with activity
Sounds of the cheerful, whistling Bambouti
Singing Egyptian folklore tales
Little bum-boats adding to the scenic beauty.

Haggling with tourists, on the ships that dock
Against gigantic hulls, the bum-boats flock.
Selling khan El-khalili products
Trivia of an ancient historic epoch.

In a hale and hearty voice, the bambouti shouts
Twenty *bounds*$ for genuine pashmima, have no doubts
Wooden statues of King Tutenkhamun, little pyramids
Delivery, payment by rope, the bambouti tows.

The bum-boatsman's days are numbered
Let the bambouti be remembered.
As the exotic smell of burning incense
Wafts down the quay, he's happy with little earned.


# Rubaiyat poetry

38 thoughts on “The Bambouti”

    1. That was a national geography journey my dear Lad🌞 my deah friend buddy buddy , thank you for the celebratory comment. You always cheer me up with your awesome amazing thoughts 🙏🏼🎶🎼

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      1. Having seen and smelt ,more than just several Mediterranean ports may I say your transposed me from a transport ship’s railing to a “bum’s boat (landing craft) in aural, olfactorial and visual way most convincingly.

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      2. I travelled in my brain and you in your bod. You have seen many a shore my celebrated friend. I salute your experience in travel. You could write a book of travels , around the WordPress in eighty days describing your jaunts around the globe. A high flying high flier 👏

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      3. You do me more honor than I deserve. My travels from tykehood through trike-hood and on to juvenile and past-that enrich what few braincells I have left unmolested and they all are fighters, Good Lady. The persist and “pop-off” at the slightest provocation – many of which you yourself have provided.

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      5. Gonna have to resize all the interior – and exterior! – doors not just of home but of everywhere I roam: even my new hats must be tossed to accommodate the burgeoning width. Thanks, A Lot, Lady!…(meant both in jest and as a sincere thank you: your notice is so encouraging. Next time you might find me by following all those men in all-white suits carrying butterfly nets. Gotta stop now so I can leave the library to go purchase a larger bucket of grin-remover.

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      7. One way I found early in my schooling: threaten the teacher’s sense of order and calm and get banished to the elementary school’s library with but a brief book-ish report for my caused-trouble. It worked at home, too: being banished to my bedroom was punishment? That’s where I kept my books!

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      9. Bod – in those days – more reliable vehicle: my brain often awash with chemicals the management produced and some I ingested (almost typed “injested and realized that was a perfect sometimes coignage). The bit about world travel always has been an intrigue…only in the Hawaiian islands did I not take home a rock. Not really superstitious, but respectful, I rationalized then and still so do. The view from Timbakion’s southerly western Cretean shore facing Egypt and Tunis gave rise to the real imagining of derelict Mycenaean columns, and, turning around to face (was it Mount Tantalus with that gaping cave-face high up on its seaward face, home of The Titans whose brats – led by Zeus fed boulders to Dad thus killing him and letting the crowd of kids go wild and run amok agogishly amonst the poor benighted humans who looked at the shell-lined beaches with deadly snail-borne parasites in those chalky warm and turquoise waters and made up stories about who and how and why and why things to so “interesting” which is a nice way to so ‘procreated up”‘ My then fellow U.S. Marines surrounding me in mid-1968 noticed not my awe-filled glee.

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  9. Pingback: The Bambouti — yaskhan | Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News

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