Res's Writing and Poetry: August 2018

Thursday 30 August 2018

Friday 24 August 2018

And she’s calling my name
Come sail on the Ocean
Across the broad main.

Come pack up your gear
And bid loved ones to bide
For the wind it is freshening
And we sail on the tide.

Let’s seek out adventure
Some new tales to tell
New places to trade
Strange new things to sell.

Let’s sail round the islands
Before we’re too old
Perhaps we’ll come back
With treasure and gold!

They say we’re sea farers
Since the dawn of time
Be it small local lugger
Or a ship of the line.

We’ve salt in our veins
And there’s tar on our hands
Let’s once more away
And seek foreign lands.

And if I find I’m too old
Or I do not have the means
I will still sail the oceans
On a ship of my dreams!
Copyright © Res Burman 24^th August 2018

Pirate photo courtesy of
The Smugglers Den
Causewayhead
Penzance
Cornwall

Tuesday 21 August 2018

"Denver Scanes" Gogyoshi

My old friend Denver Scanes

His cheery greetings

Still ring in my ears

"Hello Sailor" and "Love Ya Man"

Still whisper from my telephone!

Rest in Peace Denver "The Dude" Scanes
1949 ~ 2016

Tuesday 14 August 2018

"Skirmishing with The Little 'C'"

I’ve danced with Death a time or two
And so far come off best
But there’s no kind of certainty
That I’ll always pass the test.

I’ve skirmished with the best of ‘em
Picked up a scar or two
Had a close encounter with a bayonet
But it didn’t run me through.

I’ve been peppered by mortar shells
But it just was not my time
And picked up the odd ball bearing
From my own side’s Claymore mine.

I’ve heard Death’s deadly whisper
In the bullet’s whiplash crack
And as I ducked away from it
Felt his fingers on my back!

I nearly drowned in the River Camel
In Doom Bar’s spiteful rip
And in a flat bottomed Landing Craft
In a Cyclone’s fearful grip!

But these are only little scratches
Beside two lovers who must part
For there are few wounds deeper
Than those of a broken heart!

But now I face the Surgeon’s knife
And if it’s so… I must
It’s a little like surrender
When you take so much on trust.

But trust’s a thing that will carry you
Through many a scrape or fight
When you rely on the man beside you,
At your six and left and right.

So trust I shall, the Surgeons hand
It’s cunning and it’s skill
The Nurses tender care will pull
Me through… I trust it will.

But if, perchance, my time is up
And Death is hovering near,
Well Death is just an old old friend
And one I do not fear!

I would not rage against the night
As many think we should
I’ve had a long and loving life
And trust my death’ll be as good!

Copyright © Res Burman 12^th August 2018

Saturday 11 August 2018

"Rain" tanka

I see the heatwave
Has broken... rain cools hot earth
Huddled figures rush

My view is hidden by rain
But still my Post Lady smiles

Dedicated to Sarah, my Post Lady
whose smile lights up the day.

Copyright © Res Burman 11th August 2018