Our first woman-submitted love poem to Shatner.

bear hard to My port,
You are yet the Captain of my Heart.

launch your torpedo,
Stun Me!  report to my bridge.

bravely come,
no Man has come here before.

Oh Captain of my Heart.

oh! fragrant musk of Shatner,
thine manliness dost overwhelm me
thine head hath blessed our manner
with a toupee which shows thy glory
Lo, hark now thine bold bravado
which doth shine forth in splendor
chucking wood in Colorado
& not meeting Jean-Luc in Denver
through darkness and through night
through scripts by those who cannot write
it is thee that shall guide me oe'r
not by the "force," but by thine odor

The following poem was written by the lovely-n-talented Melanie Guzman.  She's 15 years old and wrote this poem with her mom.  I am thoroughly convinced that if more parents and kids wrote ShatnerPoetry together, the problems of teen pregnancy, crack addiction, and athelete's foot would become things of the past.  Enjoy!
Take it off and turn around
Don't let it fall to the ground.
I worship you all the way down
I kiss the head on which you crown
The sweet fragrance of your "hair"
Do I dare?
I want to kiss the head
Of which I have no dread
I see it there and want to die
This in no lie!

What is this wonderful thing
for this which bells do ring?
This for what my homage does pay
Is none other than Shatner's toupee!

O Kirk
Hair of Kirk
So timeless, so inviting
I have loved it always
I loved it when
it was as yellow and fine
as cornsilk
I loved it when
it was dark and bountiful
I loved it when
it was permed and faded
I loved it
a nondescript and flowing wave
I love it now, greying, eternal,
yet never the same
O Kirk
I cannot help but wonder
What it might be next.
That is your secret, your
siren song.

Messiah Pancakes
I spy, I capture visions of a Toupee.
I cry for the morning.
I dream, I capture fragrance of Toupee.
I drive to the store for Malt-o-Meal.
I build, I strive for glory of Toupee.
I dance an Irish jig.
I wish, I pray unto Toupee.
I sacrifice my skateboard.
I hold, I search for the Toupee.
I spank the naughty monkey.
I reach, I reach for Beautiful Toupee.
I am reaching towards Heaven.

Toaster Strudel

yet another 2 minute Shatner poem by Brian Reed,
the DeadPan UberMime of Shatnerology

Strudel Nebula

Toaster Tuesdays bring sunshine
to my RogaineĀ® colored stapler.
How can I approach the wonder
of the Being known as Shatner?
Kiss the girl gently so that her
mother lets me take her to the movies.
Kirk has more for me to learn.
Hamper for my clothes that desire
to be mellow gold like Captain's.
Pointy emblem on my nipple
Star fleet blouse that makes my ripples
Show for girls who like the display.
Now all I need is a toupee.
911, I want a carburetor.
Locklear in my elevator.  Is it rising?
Making it rise straight to the top.
If only like the Shatner fellow.
To be a father figure for this lady,
I'd have a chance for playing, maybe.
If only I had a toupee, see.
Panhandle Cocktail.

It was twenty years ago today
William Shatner bought his first TOUPEE!
It's been going in and out of style
But it's guaranteed to raise a smile!
So let me try to sell to you
The one he's worn for all these years --
(fans scream)

Yet again still another 2 minute Shatner poem by Brian Reed, the DeadPan UberMime of Shatnerology.  Don't ask me about his weird breakfast fetish.  I don't write 'em, I just print 'em.
Lactose Triggered Memories...
I long again for yesteryear, I cry.
I stumble, reach for days long past
When heroes cross the galaxy rampaged
Where women swooned from actions meant to swoon.
I miss the days when oatmeal speared me on.
I wish I could return to Ovaltine stained childhood.
The days when Captain Kirk conquered, reigned.
I miss the days when Uhura sexed the universe in song.
The theme song spurred me on to ether-dreams
The starfield wooshing past, the ship zip by
And way back then I understood too grandly
That the route laid out for me lead to glory.
But now I only dream of Shatner glory, toupee glory
My Cheerios do long for Kirk-like glory
All the while growing mushy and beige and wet
Sitting in milk. 2% milk.

We do get more than our share of female-written love poetry to Shatner.  All women must realize that love for Shatner and a deep longing to be dating him is nothing to be ashamed of. The following was submitted by Leslie Thurlow. Enjoy
oh captain my captain
you make me feel yummy
i know what adventure is
swashbuckle me, baby
yea captain go captain
you inspire puberty love
and poetry
you made me a woman
yo cap'n saucy captain
smirkin' that devilish devil's smirk
ridin' at light speed
you're killin' me....oh, kirk!
ain't no fire in my belly
unless my jimmy boy lights it
ain't no dreams without him.......
oh, CAPTAIN!!!

Here's another piece of ShatnerLuvin'  Enjoy!

Here is a flower plucked from my secret garden.  My true confession of a recurring sexual fantasy.  Imagine a beatnik jazz band for back up.  I like to call it this number, SEX KIRK.
Short red skirt
liberates my thighs
black leather space go go boots
Hair upswept, extra hold
lashes, thick, luscious
"Was she born with it?"
"Are you kidding?"
Technicolor make-up
Sache, sache, sache across the bridge
Tricoder strapped on securely
Wig towering
Oh My Captain,
This week am I'm your personal female yeoman?
"Sign this report here Captain."
"You coffee sir?"
Or, am I a mysterious love from your checkered past?
"How long has it been Jim?"
Soft Vaseline lens close up,
My false eyelashes flutter, my heart races,
The music SWELLS
Eye contact made
A Look
A Promise
A Tryst
Liberate my thighs
Explore my uncharted space
Board me James Tiberius
Come HARD about
My shields are down, just for you
Am I your love interest of the week?
Or, do we have a future together?
Fill me up with your little babies,
We'll go wig shopping together,
No, once with you is enough,
I'm must be content with what I can get,
I must concede the field to the love of your life, the Enterprise,
But I'll always remember you,
How could any woman forget?
Once you have James T. Kirk,
You never go back.

"Where Have All The Shatners Gone?"
(to be sung to the tune of "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?" by Paula Cole)

Captain Kirk is ready:
He's packin' and it's heavy,
Look out, Torpedo-Man on the Bridge!
How ya doin', Yeoman?
While the hands are roamin',
Do you think you could bend over a smidge?
Put on your prophylactic
While Rand gets you a beer...

Where is my mustard shirt?
Where is my starship-stud?
Where is my phaser-flasher?
Where have all the Shatners gone?

Starfleet Regulations
And the Prime Directive;
When you're through with 'em they are all wrecks!
Sulu, Spock and Chekhov
Will keep the starship running
While you have kinky alien sex!
McCoy prescribes the Cruex
And ointment for the sores...

Where are my corset-stays?
Where is that stately gut?
Where is my hunk of hair-weave?
Where have all the Shatners gone?

My uniform is half-way up my ass tonight,
But you, but you don't even notice me...
I see you boldly going,
Your girdled girth a-growing,
Where everybody else fears to tread!
Your butt is far from subtle,
So big it needs a shuttle,
Like a bad toupee, you go to my head!
Goulart ghosts the Tek Wars,
The money goes to Bill...

Where is my florid skin?
Where is that goofy rug?
Where is my Ripe Tomato?
Where have all the Shatners gone?

Where is my Rocket-Man?
Where is my lard-ass fun?
Where is my pompous Captain?
Where have all the Shatners gone?

Where have all the Shatners gone?

Shatner on Bridge of doom
Holding off phantoms,
Holding pants high
Young teens, mothers cry
These tears are not mere leptoidsize
At stake: Human Race

There are mirrors in these worlds
Strange worlds
Time stands still
TOUPEE standing more still

Planet Channel TV:
Shatner envies 7 foot woman
Ego blasts phasers stun gun
Capture specimen and
Report back to bridge
Chekov: will the race put out?

Liberally borrowed from Depeche Mode

Your own personal Shatner
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who cares
Your own personal Shatner
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who's there

Feeling unknown
And you're all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
I'll make you a believer

Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess
I will deliver
You know I'm a forgiver

Reach out and touch faith
Reach out and touch faith

Your own personal Shatner...

Feeling unknown
And you're all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
I'll make you a believer

I will deliver
You know I'm a forgiver

Reach out and touch faith

Your own personal Shatner

Reach out and touch faith

To a Bad Sci-fi Actor

Bald, vast bellied actor, once Enterprised,
Of all bad actors, the most recognized,
What furtive purpose hatched you long ago
In Hollywood or in Montreal?

In Hollywood and in Montreal
Snug in their guilds, the bad actors sprawl,
Puffed up with ambitions unconfessed
to all the duped and sci-fi-fed Middle West.

Like a coiled-up script or like a will-to-power,
These smirking actors bides their hour,
when like William Shatner they too might be
overly dramatic and charge a fee

In each casting line, they patiently wait
inspired by Shatner to wait and wait and wait
until that hour when standards are low
and they too get a signed for a bad sci-fi show

On the bridge of a spaceship they too will spout
lines that avert the disaster about
With scanners ahead and torpedoes away
the make-up and the lighting will save the day

In a uniform snatched from a K-Mart rack
they'll boldly fend off that alien attack
No need for real acting or talent here
when the director yells "cut" we'll go have a beer

If Shatner can do it, then we all can too
and if we get canceled, we'll just blame the crew.
No need to get worried or confidence lack
just give 'em that smirk and they'll have you right back.

from Ladystack

Captain Kirk, he flies through space
Ambassador of Love for the Human Race
Alien ladies bedrooms are his favorite place
As long as there's a heartbeat
Doesn't matter about the face.

Captain Kirk of the Enterprise
Had an altercation with some Klingon spies
They wouldn't pass him ketchup for his curly fries
So with his phaser gun he burnt holes through their eyes.

Captain Kirk and his first mate Spock
Were discussing the merits of Ohura in her frock
"The length of which" said Checkov "was not a thing to mock"
But just for confirmation they perhaps should ask the Doc.

Sonnet XLII

Shall I compare thee to Will Shatner's toupee?
I like to wear clothes made by Osh Kosh B'Gosh!
Now let me see if I can flee--
I'm at Carleton, where they call me a frosh.

To be or not to be his toupee--that is the question!
I'm so clapped up, I cannot pee,
Linking wonderous worlds of free expression On that tree.

Is this Will Shatner's toupee I see before me As I watch my life being poured?
No! For all that is will not be,
and so the sky shuddered.

I mixed it all up in an Australian rug:
Oh, to be Big Billy Shatner's rug!

Click on my red bow
To teleport back to the
Shatner Poem Page

The preceeding Haiku was written by the Grand High Arch Uberpopetitude. All rights reserved. Amen.

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