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www.djburnham.com, Poetry written i n the 2000's, Poetry, Lyrics, Prose, David Burnham, D.J. Burnham, Dave Burnham


The Charm of Larmer

Larmer charm is instant,
From the moment you're on site,
It's all smiles and a helping hand,
From pixie-powered trikes.

The campsite blooms,
With flags and twirlers,
Flowering tents,
Spinning whirlers.

Old friends,
New friends,
Familiar faces,
Musical crops,
Put through their paces.

Amoeboid bubbles hang on the breeze,
Sights and sounds embraced by the trees.

Painted faces and henna tattoos,
Percussion workshops and didjeridoos.

Skipping fairies flutter their wings,
Laughing, dancing, running rings.

Headband garlands,
Hats that jingle,
Falafel, tapas,
Smells that mingle.

The secret garden welcomes,
With healing therapies,
Treatments to unwind,
Set the mind at ease,
Then new found acrobalance,
With the folks at Mushypea.

A bemused human snake,
Takes a Misguided Tour,
While bungling Clueless Campers,
Create inept folklore.

Glowing cane and paper fish,
Swim the laurel river,
Of a hidden candlelit grotto,
Through which they glide and shimmer,

Leading to the clay world,
Of Lilliput's mysterious delights,
In a scene that could be,
From the city of tiny lights.

A beatific dervish smiles,
In the grace of a sufi trance,
As frenzied footwork powers the wheels,
Of his majestic whirling dance.

A wishing tree ribbon's,
Plea comes true,
As the clouds drift away,
And the sun breaks through.

The carnival procession begins,
With sea creatures and a galleon,
A zeppelin flies past,
And the pedalling bicycle nation,
With astral travellers' galaxies,
Completing the elation.

Sun creams are applied,
Ice creams melt,
The stage is alive,
With the joy of Afro Celt.

Pronghorn 'Dib, dib, dob,'
The last night away,
Then Beltaine work their magic,
In the Acoustic Roots Café.

With dawn's first light
The spell is broken,
Cars are packed,
Fond words spoken,
Gone so fast,
Fight back the tears,
We'll do it all again next year.

Copyright ©DJBurnham 2004 All Rights Reserved

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