Each wrinkle in his ancient face
Bespeaks a monumental deed.
Serenely there with pride he sits,
No longer longing to succeed:
For of success he's had his fill,
And of rewards he takes no heed.
He needs no praise or compliments;
He's loved by those who write and read;
Nor does he need that doc-ument
Which boorish boobies badly need.
With his unlit cigar he mocks
The paragons of self-conceit,
Whose only aim is to impress,
Whose only task is to compete,
Who think they know what they know not,
Who see themselves as the elite.
Tormented by the vast contrast,
I stand up and just leave my seat.
Saleh Badrah
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/abdullah-abdul-jabbar/
