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Echoes of the Adhan

by Max Bouillet

"Colors fade, temples crumble, empires fall, but wise words endure."
--Edward Lee Thorndike (1874 - 1949)

Crates of bobbleheads
wash up on the shores
just south of Jeddah.

Waves crash
as vacant stares
jiggle in the desert sun.

Soaked in Red Sea salt
they awkwardly stumble east
toward the house
that Abraham built
only to get lost
and melt
in the midday sun.

The last sound
to linger
in their little plastic ears
is a call to prayer
in the unfamiliar
language of God.

11/12/2006

Posted on 11/12/2006
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Angela Nuzzo on 11/13/06 at 05:21 AM

Very nice, Max. Great image of the bobbleheads staring into nothingness.

Posted by Christina Butcher on 11/13/06 at 09:59 PM

i love it!!!

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/16/06 at 12:57 AM

Fascinating use of bobbleheads to take a brief look at Islam. I take it you are meaning Allah in the last line.

Posted by Shirin Swift on 12/17/06 at 08:30 AM

The last stanza is particularly haunting. A balanced assembly of words.

Posted by Charles E Minshall on 02/13/09 at 05:05 AM

Congratulations on poem of the day Max..Well deserved.....CharMin

Posted by Dave Fitzgerald on 02/13/09 at 02:57 PM

Congratulations!

Posted by Meghan Helmich on 02/13/09 at 03:47 PM

congrats on potd! + favorites.

Posted by Alex Smyth on 02/14/09 at 12:03 AM

As usual, thank you for the offering. And congratulations on POTD!

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