Selected Poetry

DANCING SNAIL


Coo-ing doves and the song of a noisy thrush herald a gentle tap-tap-tap-tapping of a methodical music.

A new shell to join the flower bedecked crunching cemetery of snails sacrificed on my garden's altar of life.
Coffee and coo-ing mask the drums of a mystic and magical truth as I turn my ears away.


Sandy Burnfield     Buddhism Now - September 1996



THE  SPACE  PEOPLE

They walk on a green shore at the very edge of a vast unending sea.  Like underwater crabs on the bed of a rocky coast, they are constantly wafted by the eddies and currents that surround them.

They build their stony nests on the sea bed jutting out into the ever tidal atmosphere that forms the foamy fringe of their world.  They sometimes watch and wonder at the remote star - islands scattered across the vast cosmic emptiness.

They hear the roar of stormy ocean winds and occasionally bask in the warmth of an ever returning sun.  They sniff at the stench of decay and inhale the sweet perfumes of new life carried on the waves.

They stroke the swaying fronds of seaweeds that give out breath and life, and know that death gives life.

Their destiny is to bathe in the waters of the universe, creating life and kindness with each breathing, working with their Gods at a growing point of the Cosmos: the space-coast of their planet.

They are the children of our childrens' children, playing and praying at the space-side of our planet earth - the future that we carry as God seeds in our souls.


Sandy Burnfield - Buddhism Now                                   August 1994

The life to come......

What I think today
What I say today
What I do today
Is my gift to life tomorrow

My actions are all I really possess

My being is a part of continuing creation
A chord in the music of the cosmos
A thread in the tapestry of the universe
A sentient being on planet earth

I hope I will always remember this

This is the miracle
This is the wonder
This is the mystery

This is the journey

Walk on and love now
Now is the time
Here is the place.........

Sandy Burnfield   
Buddhism Now May 1998



CONVERSATION  WITH  A  DYING  WASP


What were you doing when Clare said I do
When the apple blossom blew
And skimmed along Richards fresh cut grass?
Where were you on the sunny morning of County
Council Election day?

I was buzzing about, unheard in the May,
And resting my wings on an old willow bough.

Wasp, you're so weak at the end of your day,
By cold kitchen window, warm sun far away,
You're leaving me now, and the old willow bough.

I buzzed in the warmth of the summer sun.
Think of me often - we both are as one.
Fly and buzz, Sandy - We'll fly again now,
So buzz with me, buzz - by the old willow bough!

Sandy Burnfield        29 October 1993



CALLING  ALL  BUDDHAS

Thankful for the Teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh
and the Gathas of Robert Aitken



Eating my porridge
Wanting the distraction of radio
I promise mindfully
To listen to the now of breakfast

Driving to work with clenched jaw
I promise with all Beings
To let go of anger
And follow the Way

Sitting in the sun
Reaching for my books
I promise with all Buddhas
To read the words of nature
Shining in the sun

Waiting for what comes next
I promise with all Beings
To savour space between breaths
And leave the gingernuts alone

Raising my voice
I promise mindfully
To smile at my tongue
Understanding

Sandy Burnfield    BN  January 1994




ZOOM!

Buried
In a room that feels like a tomb
Screaming doomed defiance at a disappearing future

Rebirth
In a tomb that feels like a womb
Playing with my own death-rattle, laughing at a new moon

Sunset was all I saw, now I see the Dawn
Life's Dance spirals on
In a new Space-Time
Zoom!

Sandy Burnfield


Some  Haikus

Not watching TV
Writing this siily haiku
Bedtime beckons me

Little black Asha
Slobbers on my wrinkled face
A guided missile

Eight forty PM
Tv laughter from downstairs
Sandy sits alone