Res John Burman
Res John Burman Poems
Lantern hanging in the trees,
Full moon overhead,
An orange moon, a bloody moon,
As I buried my dead!
She’d been a lover for many a year,
A friend so true and brave,
But under that bloody moon
I slaved to dig her grave.
A long-handled Cornish shovel
Digging in the night
The lantern swaying in the trees
Casting a ghastly light.
Tears flowed like salty rivers,
As I looked up at that moon,
I’d rather I’d been howling
Than sobbing like a loon.
I dug that grave so deep and wide,
As far as I could go,
And then I ...
The Servants Reply
I should point out that in this case the term 'servant' applies to one who serves, not necessarily to one who is sub-serviant.
I am Restless, breathless with desire,
Your studies have my skin on fire,
Each touch and slide with hand or knee,
Are fuelling fires deep in me.
I feel your gaze as you take in,
Every line from toe to chin.
I feel your breath upon my skin,