Confessions of a Pre-Teenage Witch

Oh, boohoo,

they teased me too.

More than once 

I felt a dunce.

Even some teachers 

sat in the bleachers 

and joined in the fun,

of humiliating someone. 

Yes, we all had to hear it, 

the block bully, full of mean spirit,

others gather round 

while you're put down. 

Makes you wish 

you were the witch

they said you was, 

simply because, 

your beautiful rare name 

is exactly the same 

as some cartoon chick

who rides a broomstick. 

Sabrina - an old Anglo Saxon word,

or so I've heard. 

I understand it to mean

Princess. Or, future Queen. 

*Oh, how I wanted to take those brats,

and feed them to my bats. *

SH Burum abt 2003

GoA Way

There are days, that I do not care.
Yesterday's clothes, are what I wear.

Sometimes, even, the day before's.
I close curtains, and lock doors.

Often, I am tempted,
to never leave my bed,

and, company
is what ails me.

SH Burum abt 2003

With Each New Day

I love quiet mornings, hours long,
Yet, I rarely arise
with the first bird's song -

I lay still, and quiet my mind.
Soon, I am in dreamland again.
Not ready for life's grind.

My day often starts at noon.
Even that seems too soon.

SH Burum abt 2003

Narcissus

My days were, once, filled with flowers.

They occupied many happy hours. 

Poverty caused me to lose interest. 

Take this one time, for instance -

when I bought some bulbs of daffodils, 

with money that should have paid bills,

and, oh in the spring, how I cried - 

when that brutal winter, all bulbs died.

This caused my heart to harden. 

And, to this day, I do not care to garden. 

SH Burum abt. 2003

the dead

we speak of them
in hushed tones - blur the lines
as we hope, they, will do, for us

We Are A Dream

They came with dreams of their own,
dreams for their children.

Their dreams displaced tender souls
turned violent,

they violently forced homesick souls
to help them create their dream.

The dream was beautiful, though
many weren't willing to share.

Soon the dream will be life,
all inclusive.

A rainbow, with gold for all.

SHB

Hearing Things

I should have known, when
the wind chimes
started in,
with the nursery rhymes,

earlier today,
that the Santa Ana Winds
were on their way.

 And then, the warm blew
right passed me, into the sea.

While I sat here, full of worry.

I hear those winds
can make a person,
a bit crazy.

SHB

Almost Mourning

Dreams packed
up, again, in boxes

stacked
in corners

left,

to wait.


S.H. Burum

Trumpism

It boils,
the blood
of ancestor's,

bubbles up,
from Orange fire
under the melting

cauldron overflows.
Guilt stirred with anger,
hope has evaporated.

The inhumane stench
today,
overwhelms.


SHB 2017