My Wife Is Clad in Cloth From Head to Foot

My wife is clad in cloth from head to foot.
How deep her eyes, how vast and sane her eyes.
As we leave, I drink her clear brown eyes
Then she walks behind me by a foot.

The buggy that she pushes is top stock.
We bought it at the best store in the town.
Our son sits in it as a throne, his crown
Invisible, so worldly folk won’t mock.

My wife is dutiful with no compare.
She is my wife and I’m the head at home.
The sun and rain gleam from our buggy’s chrome.
Our son’s face shines, his mother takes good care.

When her pure skin is shown, my body’s roused.
My wife is beautiful beyond compare.
And though aroused, my heart can see her there,
My wife, my soul mate, woman whom I’ve housed.

Western women walk the naked streets
Part-robed with skin displayed like butcher’s meat
Or sweet meats on a plate, an open treat:
It causes me dismay, my hardship beats.

I know of men in twister groups like gales
Who phone round when they lift a Western girl
Whose family’s not enclosed her like a pearl,
Have let her stroll alone the paths of males.

They take her, token of the infidel,
Of unbelievers to be conquered, won.
They show the ending battle has begun
When men will walk to Heaven or in Hell.

Muhammad, our Great Prophet, Peace to Him,
Married his friend’s daughter, nine years old.
All Muslim men can do so, it’s foretold,
For Islam’s timeless truth is not a whim.

And if we’re ‘just’, four wives can be our own
To plough each like a field, have babies grow.
Throughout the world submissive seed must sow,
Each single clod of Man be Islam’s clone.

So says our Great Qur’an and our Hadith
And infidels can’t mew that we abuse
For then they’re filth like faeces, dogs, and Jews,
And this is Allah’s code – what’s underneath.

Muhammad, Peace to Him, had bones and teeth,
Both action and belief for all Mankind.
If one of you reads else, we’ll make you blind.
It’s writ in His Qur’an and our Hadith.

And at the End of Days all’s good; all’s nice;
All non-Islam then stops; Jizyah as well;
All true belief’s at peace; all’s fine; all’s well:
And good men enter virgin Paradise.

 

U.K. Citizen

Written about previously tortured Chinese Falun Gong practitioners I know who have made new homes away from the Chinese Communist regime

Where she’s come from’s where she’ll go to
____________when the Persecution’s done.
She’s settled here, her second home,
____________first ring of respite on the run.
Though forced to change the way she dresses, looks,
____________her language, and her name,
She’s found new friends, connected roots,
____________is shaking off the clamps of blame.

Most bruises healed; some scars still show;
____________she covers up with tops and skirts.
It’s good to walk and not be stared at,
____________sit and not be clenched by hurts.
Good makeup helps, and well-placed scarves
____________adapted to the Western style;
Though getting angles right, concealing marks with movements,
____________took a while.

There’ll be no grandstand jeers, nor gloating,
____________when the Evil Party falls.
No forced return to torture rooms,
____________blood memories on beaten walls.
But she will seek out relatives,
____________associates, and friends alive.
Such searching dangles sentimental hooks
____________as some will not survive.

Her homeland’s bilged, ballooned in super structure,
____________false commercial size,
And this she’ll help reshape, rebuild,
____________put right its morals, and stay wise.

 

Damian Robin is a writer and editor living in the United Kingdom.

Related Post

‘Check-Mate by a Pawn’ and Other Poetry by Amy F... Check-Mate by a Pawn for my sons We parry, thrust: This game of wits, Where each pawn must Deflect your hits. My mounted knight Skips overhea...

10 Responses

  1. Amy Foreman

    Both are gripping poems, Damian. Writing the first one from the perspective of a devout and self-righteous Muslim man, and staging the piece as a paean of praise from husband to wife makes your exposé all the more brilliant and effective. Bravo!

    Reply
  2. Joseph S. Salemi

    In the first poem, in the third line of the second quatrain, the word should be “throne,” not “thrown” — unless I’m missing some obscure point.

    Other than this, the poem is a fine expression of this basic truth — Moslems and other immigrants have nothing but contempt for Western females. It’s too bad that the committed feminists among us can’t admit to that politically inconvenient fact.

    Reply
    • Damian Robin

      Thanks, Dr S, for pointing out the misspelling of “throne” in stanza two (now corrected). There is a tradition among Islamic pattern makers (of carpets, wall patterns, illustrations to texts, book designs) that they leave a deliberate mistake. (This is not one of those occasions, so many thanks for the heads up.)

      The idea is said to be that only Allah is perfect so how could anyone else make a perfect thing. However, this idea of imperfection could be put down to arrogance or cover-up.
      see http://www.geometricdesign.co.uk/perfect.htm

      Regarding the main part of the poem above:
      It is more than feminists who are not admitting to the inconvenient fact of the debasement of Western females, and females generally, by incoming cultures. But I am sure you highlight feminists here as they would be expected to support the exploited girls (most now women). And to support them they must turn to the groomers, drug forcers, watchers, supports (some of whom are women), molesters, and rapists. And they will find that the majority brought to court have Arabic names. But to actively point this out goes against the tenets of multiculturalism and political correctness that comes from the Left with feminism.

      In the UK, the wistful feeling of multiculturalism and political correctness has obscured the facts. We are now aware how thousands of young girls in Rotherham, Rochdale, Newcastle, Bradford, Oldham, Oxford, Bristol, and Huddersfield were failed. (All these places and institutions have been the subject of official inquiries or large court cases.) Care workers, Social Services, health professionals police, local government, and neighbours marginalized the sexual abuse of young girls by paedophile rings prominently because the rings were made up of brown and Muslim men. The indigenous UKers feared being called “racist”.
      https://www.christianconcern.com/our-issues/islam/sacrificing-girls-to-political-correctness

      In Europe generally, gross abuses by immigrants are overlooked because of a sense of guilt around past imperialism and also ’tiredness’ of not being able to resolve issues of identity. Hence the “Let all who wish, come in and be Europeans”. This European defeatism is explored deeply by Douglas Murray in his book “The Strange Death of Europe”.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Thank you for your detailed account of the facts, Mr. Robin. I have always argued that Great Britain’s “Race Relations Act” is actually a legal instrument for putting white persons into official second-class status as citizens. The great classicist Enoch Powell predicted this outcome many decades ago.

  3. David Watt

    Both poems are forceful and well expressed. You shine light on reality, despite it being unfashionable to do so.

    Reply
    • Damian Robin

      Thanks, David. ‘Humankind cannot bear very much reality’. It’s hard to face the ‘nice’ Muslims with facts that demote their core beliefs. And hard to begin to express conservative views to people who live only in their feelings.

      Reply
  4. Dave Whippman

    “My Wife is Clad in Cloth…” is a cleverly written piece. It highlights a disturbing aspect of the Islamic immigration which is such a cause of contention these days. Like almost any poem, it cannot present all sides of an argument: there are plenty of Muslims who integrate well into western society. But with the London and Manchester attacks all too recent, this piece is topical and a vivid portrayal of one aspect of Islam.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.