Res John Burman Poems

The Lotus sits
Pure, pristine and symmetrical
Upon her murky seat.
...

Her hair, blue-black and silky,
Hung down to her waist,
Her breasts, pert, round and perfect,
Were exactly to her taste.
...

I like the cool side of the pillow
The warm side of the bed
Your long slim legs entwined with mine
Your head beside my head.
...

There is a poise,
An elegance,
In your pose.
A stillness,
...

The Temple stands quiet
In the middle of the lake
Lonely in the mist
...

I saw that glance
As you looked back
Your eyes so brown
Your hair so black.
...

The old man plays his bow
And dreams of the young maid
The young maid listens to his music
And dreams of a young man.
...

From under the tea-house eaves
Pipa music lifts it's exquisite voice
And wafts up the mountainside.
...

The right hand plucks
The music from the strings.

The left, pushing, sliding, caressing
...

Pilgrimage to Huà Shàn Mountain,
Beside me a rock face and a rusty chain,
Beneath me, three planks and the eternal wind.
...