Late afternoon. The shadows lengthen
but the angry African sun still glares
on Mbombo's troop taking their ease
among the wisteria's fluttering leaves
and blossom-laden branches.
Mbombo signals pleasure
with half-closed eyes and little ears drawn back
looking as amiable as a baboon can -
not noticeably benign, perhaps,
except to others of his species.
With languid grace he plucks a spray
of delicate purple flowers -
an offering for his beloved -
she of the deep-set golden eyes
and attractively blushing rump.
No other suitors venture near
the chosen of Mbombo the King
for all have seen his savage fangs
and keeping a respectful distance
devour lush blooms in purple-scented shade.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Mbombo by Sheila Spargo )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Last Journey, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Cat Nap..., Denis Martindale
- Blasphemy Is Light Which Beacons The Pat.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- The Tall One, tallulah montegue
- to be continued..., Mandolyn ...
- A song of a real dream!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- The Face in the Passing Train, David Lewis Paget
- Awareness of the Truth (Section 36 of Th.., rajendran muthiah
- The Poetic Art & Craft of O.N.Gupta, Bijay Kant Dubey
- WISDOM, LOVE & TRUST, Tom Zart