Auckland Poetry.com

Benazir Bhutto

You looked so impossible beautiful and your voice was
so erudite words danced on your sensuous lips, never
had there been a prime minister as you; alas, there were
there were accusations of corruption and you hastily
fled your beloved country, I choose, perhaps wrongly,
not to believe your accusers and you faded from view.
When turmoil enveloped your country again, you were
back seeking power and I knew you’re doomed.
I saw you standing up in the jeep carrying you out of
the park were you had spoken to your supporters, still
striking, in a matronly ways, but your smile dazzled
and, once again, I believed you could be the saviour of
your troubled country. An explosion, Mayhem, billows
of death surrounded you and you were gone forever

Ghosts.

It was three in the morn when I got up,
looked out of the window and saw,
what I had never seen before, the night
undulated like a black silk veil breathed
on by the hidden face of dawn;

soft movements, esoteric, not weighed
down by the burden of a human body,
these gentle souls dancing to a tune of
the unheard and hidden, as not to scare
those who fear the ending of days.

Zebra Days

Everyone in the street wore zebra coats now that the animal
was being farmed it was good for the African economy;
of course some wore coats made of young zebras, the rich,
who just had to show their wealth, which makes sense if
you are wealthy there is no point hiding it. Zebra meat used
to taste unusual when the animal was grazing on savannah
grass, now it tastes just like any other domestic meat.
London used to have thousands of working horses and since
the English famously don’t eat horseflesh on wonders what
happen to that meat. I think it ended up in cheap pies, and
no question asked; the starving are not finicky about food.

I suppose a nobleman’s stead wasn’t eaten, but given burial
when it was old and knackered; but I guess it was given to
the stable lad so he could visit his girlfriend, with some rustic
style, and- on misty summer morning- before the bike was
invented, ride back to his master’s stable. I wondered why
peoples in the street were avoiding me till I saw myself in
a shop window; yes, I was a king lion with a fantastic well
groomed mane, sleek body and two enormous, (thank you
we don’t want to know) I smugly smiled and swelled with
pride, no point asking the zebra-coated cowards were I could find a graceful lioness or two.