P A U L  B U R A

Paul Bura - Poet, Broadcaster, Writer
Found! In the video Archives...


Past Life Experience from the book. Stepping to the Drummer, by Paul Bura. 13min, 9.6 Mb
The re-enactment of a "past life". Just ONE of the stories from Paul's memoir: Stepping To The Drummer by Paul Bura
 
Download the video (13 mins, 9.6Mb )
Stepping To The Drummer, By Paul Bura. £8.90

This neighbour of mine lives at number 91, Albany Drive. This so-called poem describes this unpleasant man to a tee…but the pay-off is rather beautiful!

THANK YOU, THEO

Thank you, Theo, for making our small estate
A place of simple war where you reign supreme
Over what you consider your domain!

Thank you, Theo, for making us suffer the slings and Arrows of your rhetoric, for making us slaves
Under which you wield your whip of ownership (seemingly)

Thank you, Theo, for telling off those simple – but innocent – young boys for playing on your piece of Pavement and for being the bully that you undoubtedly are!

Thank you, Theo, for blocking up your own Kingdom
And blocking us - your subjects - OUT with your precious ‘mettle-shed’, parking your sleek black chariot where you Will - and to hell with the rest of us!

Thank you, Theo, for taking permanent charge of that
One, single, parking space between those precious ‘yellow Lines’ with your SECOND car! (Or is it your third vehicle?)

Thank you, Theo, for hiding behind your wife’s skirts
With the seeming enemy at your door whenever you
Feel ‘fear’ from your foe.

Thank you, Theo, for telling off that 4-YEAR-OLD BOY for
Playing on his little bike (the stabilizers still attached) and making him cry for playing on YOUR LAND (debateable)??

And when his protector - in the form of the boy’s father – Called on you soon after this incident, you AGAIN hid Behind your wife’s skirts telling her: ‘I’m not in!’

Ah, but, my dear Theo, you really should NOT use your

Hosepipe during the drought, THERE IS – AFTER ALL -  A HOSEPIPE BAN! You naughty, naughty Boy! GOTCHA!
 
Naughty Boy Theo!
Photo taken 10th of May 2012!
THE FLUTE PLAYER

(Based on a true story)
The noose lay around the prisoners’ neck,
 Mind racing ahead of the crime on his shoulders,
Of the crazed young drug-head and musician that he was;
Soon it would be over.
His religion taught
Of hell’s torment for eternity

He also knew of the prisoners’ Last Request!

He called for his flute.
The warden’s eyes widened,
The prisoners request was always respected
Provided it was within reason.

This magical friend in time of great need
Whose music would accompany him, sustain him
Even unto hell itself.

He was calm now as he put the flute to his lips.
He drew in his breath,

Paused

Then gently blew beauty out onto the calm, clear air,
And into the ethers; it soared above and around the ears
Of all that heard, prisoners and prison warders alike,
Beauty of such clarity, such sweetness that it scattered all before it:

Above his head and out of the little room
Where he stood on the scaffold
The noose still draped around his neck
As he dipped his head forward
To play his flute!

It melted the hearts of the parents
Whose son this drug crazed flute player had killed!

And when the music was at an end,
When the silence roared,
Then the tears came.

They - the parents - had a change of heart
And pardoned him, this young flute player,
As was their right in that far eastern country of Iran,
As was their right to do so!

 
 
 
 
 
Copyright © Paul Bura 2006 - 2012