Res John Burman Poems

Gandhara Buddha
On a lucky red necklace
His hand on my heart
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New born foal - too weak
And tall to suckle with ease
Bonds with my sweater
 
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Why do we bother to remember the dead
Of all those wars, that even in our lifetimes
Are almost forgotten?
Why do we watch mealy mouthed politicians
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You ask me if I’ve hunted,
Or been a fighter too,
Or if I’d leave the ladies,
So I say this to you.
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Without regard for life or limb,
The weather, it comes storming in.
The waves do build, the wind does wail,
As the weather climbs the Beaufort Scale.
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A Message From The West.

You spent your life
Learning and teaching
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In the Land of the Giant Panda,
In the Province of Sichuan,
They were digging in the rubble,
Still hoping to find someone.
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This heaped up pile of rubble,
This was once the school.
Where The Teacher held his classes,
And taught the Golden Rule.
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Appalachia, your green mountains are weeping black tears.
Mine Owners. Your neighbours are living in fear.
You're raping the mountains and Good Mother Earth,
Your millions are nothing to what this land is worth!
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Hail, my lady, I stand proudly
In your presence here
I come to polish apples
And plant my seeds down there!
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