Best Kalahari Poems
The sun rose that morning like a freshly baked pie
Warm and golden
Its purpose prepared for the day ahead
To torch the bald and hat less heads
Its was time to take its place in dust clogged sky
Its barely 6 am when the sounds
of the first cow bells ring
as the beasts of burden make their way
to find the last remnants of the dry brown hay
the grasses thirst for that first rain
and the cattle search and search in vain
oh where are you black clouds and thunder
its been a long long and warm dry winter
as the day progresses the hope of rain dismisses
oh if only that storm front from the north
would makes its way and come forth
you can even smell the air its sweet aroma
as the sound of thunder gets ever nearer
the anticipation of all of nature fills the air
every creature
and when that ferocious downpour is at its finish
you think to yourself why so quick and why did you punish
but at least it has given you strength
to face another day, to go the length
to put up with the heat and to say I’m sorry
for ever wanting to leave this beautiful Kalahari
As I embarked on my winding way,
With gin by my side, come what may,
A cold companion, flavored with zest,
Juniper berries danced upon my quest.
At every sip, a tear did fall,
A sorrowful tale, of love's bitter call,
But I couldn't resist the drink's sweet sway,
For in its warmth, my loneliness would stray.
The road was long, the night was dark and grey,
I needed solace, a friend to stay,
And so I sought the kindness of a cop's eye,
One who would look the other way, and let me pass by.
In this era of corruption's stain,
It's a rare find, a good cop's refrain,
But I was lucky, or so it would seem,
For they smiled and waved, and let my journey beam.
The hours ticked by, as I drove through the night,
Contending with rain, and potholes in sight,
I'd stop and rest, at every lay-by's gate,
And let the silence, soothe my weary state.
And then I saw it, a glimmer of light,
The land ahead, a beacon in flight,
I'd reached my destination, worn but true,
And though the journey was long, I'd made it through.
The gin was gone, but its memory stayed,
A bittersweet tale, of love and dismay,
But I'd found my way, through the dark and the cold,
And in the end, my heart was made of gold.
The Kalahari
Kneaded clay
Form creases
The thirst of desert
blinding dust and wind
Collide of wave and tide
Females carry the tribe
Their large flappy ears
Fan them cool
Muddy pools
Their sunshade and lemonade
Their long trunk, their utensil and instrument
The herd graze on green bushes
Barge their way through thick trees and weeds
Making way
For grand and small
Giant footprints and dung mark their tracks
It’s dung a beetle’s nest and feast
The labor of a mother’s womb
Trumpets sound to celebrate
Prey to an open field
Darkness cast upon its young
For it is done
Hearts pump and
Trunks join to commemorate
Rumblings from afar detect danger
They form a protective block around the calves
Their ears on alert
Their trunk and feet test the waters
They wait til it passes
They lock trunks to bond
At the patience of the lions
A son grieves it’s mom
Guards over her corpse
And leaves with the survived
Blazing fires rise
The earth crack
The land is barren
The river is drenched
An underground stream arise
They find relief
All come to drink
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
07/28/19
Uncle was a stout version of dad
Which I found quite interesting.
And a very different lifestyle he led.
Dad was a fastidious medical guy
But uncle just a farm worker
Content just to get by.
He lived on a white man's farm
Amidst the kalahari desert thickets
Where jackals often brought harm.
Their abode was a land of milk
Although the flies were everywhere.
But against hunger they had a shield!
Gerry leading the weekly walk*
if only giraffe's could talk
' I could show you where to see me'
& 'in which hide to be'