Young Men in Maun
The house, on which the moonlight fell
Leaving a ghostly shadow mark
Had a porch, a low white wall
On which my Norwegian friend
Perched with the trophies of his hunt
He worked in the village hospital
A laboratory technician, he knew
Exactly who had tested and for what
But it was not so bad, those were
The years before the HIV
Once a month, just after pay day
When the moon was full over the plains
We'd open the door
Loudly unleash
My late 70s dance mix tapes
And invite the council workers in,
The nurses and the Danish volunteers
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poem by Frank Bana
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Olympian Disgrace
Even for a poet
It is difficult to evoke
The disgrace that are these 'Olympics'
The disgust I feel, that in some way
You are certainly feeling too
Because you are human
And literate, I assume
You know as well as anyone
How Tibet is occupied, these 55 years
Minorities suppressed, births controlled
Beliefs circumscribed, Inquisition-style
All those dissidents on trial
And the students in the square
(Has the Party apologised?)
Complicity in Darfur
Labour camps, all set aside
While athletes are being glorified
I'm not evoking Berlin,36
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poem by Frank Bana
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The Fear
And now my love the terror
Is surrounding everything
Even the red wheelbarrow
The trembling of the sky
In the rising heat of fire
Fear of the recession
Sleep-walking off the cliff
Fear of a new rainbow
With nothing at the end of it
Fear of blackened rivers
Return of the sickness
Fear of everyone else's fear
As they patrol the stage
Bars raised on the cage
By their fear of change
Fear of the Israelis
And the brown girl on the train
Fear of Ms America
And what she's doing to her face
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poem by Frank Bana
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Impermanence, Acceptance....
Of life, there is nothing lasting in flesh
Of the greatest passions, of childhood games
The energy, acuity in which we delighted
Yield to the years and abandon us.
What endures of our living is made from dreams
The human, inescapable need
To strive in moments both foolish and clear
To protect foundations that erode with time.
I will know dreams as energies leave me,
My daughter venturing to explore the world
My brother secure in the house he worked for
The birds flying north to Canada.
I'll dream in French and sing in Spanish
Read the psalms of David, one each day
With time on my hands to save the planet
To learn the names of colours and stars
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poem by Frank Bana
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The Quiet One (for Beatle George)
They met him on the local bus, just
Local boys not knowing they were bound
For glory, greatness, and here was
The one to always ask for less
The quiet one, who worked hard on his lines
Holding his own above the fuss
For years they kept him to the wings
Without stage mark or microphone
Rising to harmonize but not to sing
Saturn's dark sun, its self-effacing child
Of Krishna, kept strong by belief
Sharing his heart, looking for inner light
It was more difficult to hold
To keep that faith when all around
Of his small frame it rained, the arrogance
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poem by Frank Bana
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No Memories of...
I wish I had never before seen snow
I want to know it naively
Each time the winter comes, in each snowfall
To stand with sodden shoes and heart in flame
Tasting the flakes upon my tongue, my eyes
Singing to the moulting skies
As if for the first time, I'd be
A creature with no memory of snow.
Also, I wish once more to see
A woman for the first time. Buxom, nakedly
Touching me how and where I never
Knew of touch before. I want her name
To be of foreign origin.
I want to hear the original song
And sing it to the movement of her tongue
That laps the innocence from my being.
Or.. my first day at work!
An office of my very own. The buff and bursting files
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poem by Frank Bana
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To Jesu
Oh Jesu
They made a beautiful
Story for you
A bright garland of dreams
To wear around your raven hair
Did you find the love you need
In man or womankind
Among the lilies of the fields
Where the young goats browse
As bluebirds fly in Galilee
Oh Jesu
How was it to be god for you
To be our servant too
When so many take your name
Who would think to betray you
You deserved more of us, Jesu
And I for one won't turn away
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poem by Frank Bana
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These Hands (201?)
I looked down at these hands
No longer those
Of some younger man
They made some big mistakes
On looking back
Painting bright hopes upon a man
To make a better world
Because he started out as black
I dared believe in love
But in my foolish bravery
I learned to want it too
To hold it in my palms
As fresh
As waters of my happiness
Innocent of rituals
Strangers to distress
These hands have seen some action nonetheless
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poem by Frank Bana
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As it Happens...
As it happens, I suppose
I am not gay, if it matters at all
And hold almost secret and certainly close
Each memory of you - knowing some
We share and some to me
Are singular, like those Joni Mitchell songs
I am better at singing
As you have guessed for sure
Your webs of poetry and lyric song
Still raise me to tears and reduce my heart
At least when you are on top of your game
And provide a pitch on which I can sing
Filled by your inspiration, to the brim
As it will surely be kept under wraps
I am not shy to tell you, here and now
How the kiss most dreamed of and remembered
Among the miles of smooth-cheeked kisses I've known
Was given and received in surprise
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poem by Frank Bana
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My Black President
Act One
In the footprints of Mandela
On the ladders of the King
He comes and from some sides hosannas ring
Untinged by darker powers
Unhinged by fate and fame
He brings to us the light of hope again
Construct your own Obama
Create your daytime drama
Make our world a bit safer and calmer
He overcame the odds
Not fathered sometimes mothered
He had the courage to campaign while colored
And now may he complete
All he will represent
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poem by Frank Bana
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