Who was William Shakespeare?
Surely G-D herself
On a short Sabbatical
Taking a break from
Divine forms of Inscription
(Makes one wonder, though
Who on earth was Verlaine?
Who in G-d's name was Rimbaud?)
poem by Frank Bana
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It's not flying
it's not flying that makes me feel sick
it's the bus driver in the morning
he's a crazy young man
drives like he was making hot-blooded love
we always make the train
just in time
poem by Frank Bana
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Raining Light.....
Sun pours through the skylight
The feline shadows play
On countertops, across the walls
The bowing heads of trees contend
Amorous in summer wind
The counter where I cook is bright
And it is raining light.
poem by Frank Bana
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Hotel Room Meditation
Because of some trick
Involving double mirrors
I could see my own ass
In the hotel room this morning
It did not look too shabby
I thought that you could love me
But you were very busy
Looking out at Lake Geneva
poem by Frank Bana
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Grey Clouds
Grey clouds drift diagonal
In the lavish morning sky
Or perhaps some industrial plant
Is rattling blocks nearby
These cities, ready always
To spring us a surprise
Call for careful study
If you plan to stay alive.
poem by Frank Bana
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Kafkaesque
After a lifetime
of describing
things as Kafkaesque
I finally read Kafka
and discovered
he's not Kafkaesque a bit!
he's a lot more like Kafka
in fact
to my untrained eye
than his Esque
would suggest
or seem to imply.
poem by Frank Bana
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The Grace of God
If, as some suggest
We should thank God and His Grace
For not sharing the fate of those
Entombed in the ruins of Port-au-Prince
What should we tell to Him
And His agency of Grace
On behalf of all of them
Whose voices have forever
Been stolen away?
poem by Frank Bana
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Because you wear gold
Sun coming through
A straw hat
Once I had money
Now it is lost
Strange you should be so unconcerned.
Tell me where to look
I have nothing to put my love in for you
Some tell me you are beautiful
There are many things you may not notice
Because you wear gold.
poem by Frank Bana
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Hitler at 75
So Hitler came to power
75 years ago today
so what of it, really?
new Hitlers turn up every day
only with smaller armies
and rather less publicity
Maybe there's a Hitler out there
somewhere close to you
get ready to defend your life -
your personal World War Two
poem by Frank Bana
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Wintermusic
I got to know you well today
Whether you shined
Whether it rained
Your words are wintermusic
That I hummed today
You gave me poems on paper
They fell, they made a terrible sound
I found them in my homework
And nothing gets done
Give me nothing to keep
Except this music to believe.
(1973)
poem by Frank Bana
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