LÉ BALLADÉ AFRICANOS (An Original Poetry)

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The tambourines thrills,
in the plains of kabuvu,
where the circumference of the sun
arcs on the waist of the river maiden
armed with amulets
colours dazzling as the rainbow's grandfather,
hustling like the thrilling flute
as she prances down the snaky slopes
like a panther on a roadkill.

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Le Soprano Sombrero,
her angelic yodeling,
brings unscathed memories of Orpheus,
striking the harp like a crazed god,
with heaviness in the heart.
a lifelong caress to the soul
we're left crazed men
to the whinning of her plastic body

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She speaks of peaceful wars,
of sango the thunder god,
writhing in a mire of his fury
as she sits lonely on the forlorn banks,
watching the endless ripples,
as they bring inspirations,
to the scorched mind
her ballad are but hyssop
soothing the spirit with glee

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Our hips, hypnotized
as her lips synchronized us,
to the enchanting vocals,
that charms turbulent storms
we're but instruments to her daunting beauty
a mixture of bliss and soul,
on a lonely road to the stream,
her echoes alone are music,
that spreads through the mamre forest,
till the sun returns to it's shell