Res John Burman Poems

As winter storms in
My little mimosa tree
Sports shivering blooms
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I hear winter rain
Tap tapping on the window
Like some urgent call
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My letterbox vomits
Unwanted waste paper
Into the room!
Shop Locally!
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I am young but I am learning
Learning how to make my way
How to make my living
And getting better day by day.
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There comes a time in many a young life,
After stony roads and loads of strife,
We can fall into places inter-tidal,
Then hopeless we sink to suicidal.
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A pretty pastel morning,
The sea a gentle swell,
The morning Sun is climbing,
Over sand and sea and shell.
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The morning sun sets trees ablaze
With a fiery rosy tint,
It can do the same for days and days,
Without a carbon footprint!
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The window reflects
Dove and sparrows eating grain
Busier than I
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“These are your playmates? ” asked Mother.
Eyeing the East End kids
On the TB ward, warily!
“Why, they talk like gutter-snipes.
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Did they promise us
A Hung Parliament... or
Not... wishful thinking?
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