Frank Bana Poems

In the mouth of the wide savannah
The air of the hot midday
Casts on us a veil of stillness
Undisturbed by the remotest breeze
...

The old man sits beside the Council Chamber, stretches out his hand
The officers pass by, their minds on paper
The small shields of security drawn around him by the month
Don’t protect him from the night and dusts of winter
...

The swirling music stops within a moment
The banjo cuts through heavy scented air
Its high-tuned strings ring out into the darkness
High water and the flood are everywhere
...

All because of you
I cannot wear white T-shirts
Or play Hey Jude
And other songs of '68
...

I got to know you well today
Whether you shined
Whether it rained
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Set on my hands the gift of silence
Lift the pressure and pain of my hips
Trace your ice on my aching shoulders
Then draw the heat from my frozen lips
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A thousand and ten pages
Of Allen Ginsberg's writings
Bound in heavy solitude, squat beside the bed
The window sheets are white, Leonard Cohen's monotone
...

Yes I know a man
Who with his quiet magic hand
Can turn a room of quarrelsome heads
Snarling for each other in self-regard
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The train is his prison
metal grey funnel passengers
contend for seats and dignity
Alpha males, pole mountaineers
...

Each little Child a queen or a king
learning to reach for the bright blue sky
In every child moment, you more become
the owner of dreams, the holder of light.
...