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Sunday, 24 January 2016

"Pine Straw"

“Pine Straw”

I love to rest on pine straw
Somewhere off the track
Where passersby won't see me
A pine tree at my back.

But all the woodland knows I'm there
The robin comes to sing
A Lady Blackbird cleans my boots
Or shares the food I bring.

Sister fox will wander by
And stop with enquiring stare
She sees I have no stick or gun
She knows there's no danger here.

The Badger won't be coming by
Unless I wait till dusk
But I can see the track they make
And sometimes smell their musk.

I can hear the buzzards cry
Circling high above
And soon they will be nesting
In these woodlands that I love.

But I am truly so aware
Of the very air I breathe
The moisture in the soil
The pollen on the breeze.

I breathe in all the goodness
I breathe out all the bile
It does a body's soul some good
To sit still for a while.

I love the songs that different trees
Are making on the air
Goddess of Mercy, if there's a Heaven
I believe it must be here!

Copyright © Res JFB 18th September 2015

Friday, 17 July 2015

Strawberries and Cream

I’m eating Strawberries and cream
With my long handled spoon
The one the doggies loved to lick.
I know I shouldn’t but I don’t care!

My beloved sister bought them.
I think they were meant for
A pretty little girl who was visiting
But she'd already eaten a punnet of strawberries
And half a plateful of biscuits!

Sweet child, she bought me a lovely bunch of flowers
And then decided they were so nice,
She should hold on to them!
See, she's pretty and clever too!

Never mind, my beloved sister
Bought me flowers from her garden
Which puts my little backyard to shame
I can smell the roses now from across the room.

And mauvey spikey things
That she did tell me the name of
But you know me, head like a colander!
And some pretty white flowers
That look like Christmas tree decorations.

And the strawberries and cream!
You can blame my next coronary on her!
But I won't! I love her too much!
And always have! Sweet Annabella!

And she didn't hold me down
And force them on me.
She hasn't been able to do that
Since I was ten years old!

Lovely to see my dear friend Eve
And Little-legs, full of smiles and strawberries.
And my Dear Sister and Brother in Law.
Yesterday was a good day, a very good day!

Copyright © Res JFB 16th July 2015

Sunday, 12 July 2015

No One

“No One”

No one to lick the mayonnaise
From my long handled spoon,
Or eat the nub ends from my pasty
Or join me howling at the moon!

No one to help me to the bathroom
Or to lead me down the stairs,
No one to help me eat my supper
With long and hungry stares.

No one to help me on computer
Though he cannot type a damn
But he’s growing up so nicely
A proper Penberthy man.

No one to snuggle  against me
While lying on my bed,
Or wake me up too early
In case I might be dead!

No one is there to trip me up
On all the scattered toys,
But Babes, I must admit to you
Your Old Grandad misses his boys!

Copyright © Res JFB 12th July 2015

Monday, 6 July 2015

This Country In Between

Every flower I send you
Is yet another kiss
Upon your lovely lips
Every petal I send you
Is a caress upon your soul
My body lying so close 
You can feel my heat
And you will feel my love
All you have to do
Is reach out, connect
Bridge this tiny gap
This country in between
Complete the circuit
And when we finally touch
Twill be like fire
And twill be like ice
But every kiss upon your breast
Will be like a rose petal
Upon the ground it loves

Copyright © Res JFB 25th December 2007

Tuesday, 10 February 2015

"Zhang Ziyi" Haiku

In my life's fading
There are some divine faces
Make me feel like spring

Photo Zhang Ziyi
Words Copyright © Res JFB 10th February 2015

Friday, 10 October 2014

"Singapore Customs"

“What’s this?” crowed the officious
British ex-pat Customs Officer.
Looking down at my Army Issue
Machete strapped to my battered
Army Issue suitcase.

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere!
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

A more useless bit of kit is hard to imagine,
In it’s pressed cardboard sheath,
And it’s heavy riveted handle
That would cut and blister
A sweat soft hand to ribbons in minutes.
And it’s impossible to sharpen edge
Could hardly be called lethal.
Unless you wanted to batter something to death
With it’s blunt edge!

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere,
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

Luckily he hadn’t looked IN my suitcase!
He’d have found the Headhunter’s mandu,
Razor sharp, the machete I really carried on ops,
With it’s stylised hornbill handle with the beak
That curled round your little finger
And stopped the thing from flying out
Of a sweat wet or monsoon wet hand.
Or the quiver of poisoned blowpipe darts!
Now they really were lethal!

I wasn’t in the best of moods!
I’d been kicked out of my beloved Borneo
At a moment’s notice!
They’d thought to retain
My trusty 7.62 FN
But had returned my ‘personal weapon’.
And found me a last minute seat
On a Singapore Airlines flight!

And there I stood
In the bright lights of Singapore Airport.
Dirty, tired, in a pair of rotting jungle boots
And a set of Olive Greens
That hadn’t seen starch
Or the dhobi man’s iron
In far too long!
And I’d missed my tea!
And if this officious prat kept me much longer
It looked like I’d miss my supper too!

“You can’t bring that in ‘ere,
That’s a lethal weapon, that is!”

“What the fuck do you call this?” I asked politely,
Pointing to the ugly little Sterling sub-machine gun
They’d returned to me before I left,
Hanging round my neck like the eternal albatross!
And the full magazines hanging from my belt!
For me, Peace had broken out!

Copyright © Res JFB 10th October 2014