Kalahari Butterflies Poem by Frank Bana

Kalahari Butterflies

Rating: 5.0


white blossoms in the air
one more spring in the exile I chose
that becomes addictive to itself

cold April London streets
and record bins in Soho basement stores
the damp smiles which invite me from afar

white Kalahari butterflies
the smell of fresh cow dung
the taste of ripe marula fruit is sweet

sitting by acacia trees
fingers in the shallow dusty soil
caressing Africa as a lover would

then she embraces me
like a soul in memory
an orphan child finding its mother's knee

to protect her now in turn
I witness her defence against
all blind and negative publicity

in the maelstrom of the West
that speaks no unconditional word
in generosity, be sure

a new thing each day is begun
as I fight off voices whispering
my life's work has been done.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Francesca Johnson 30 April 2007

A mind flight, like the butterflies, that flits off to remembered places. An enjoyable read, Frank. Love, Fran xx

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Original Unknown Girl 30 April 2007

Stunning imagery in this, mixed up places and feelings gave this an alternative twist that strangely worked..... lovely. HG: -) xx

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Derrick Clark 30 April 2007

the had some poetic flow about it, keep it up.

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