Dharma Bum

Dharma Bum

Hum drum clunking run,
on rails above a Dharma bum…
leans on nostalgia
to deepen the lightness
welcomes true murkiness
and fake city brightness.

London’s litter hides,
backward ebbing tides,
a phantom gaggle glides,
Mayan clocks tock on by
and metropolitan life

           by David Bugg (Dec 12)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, City, Light, Night, Poem | 1 Comment

Ceylon Tea in Lanka

Ceylon Tea in Lanka

and saucer
and night.

By David Bugg (2012)


Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Sri Lanka, Tradition or Ritual | Leave a comment

Lankan Hill Country


Lankan Hill Country

On a mat a peon
Bus windows

On her lap a child
Deep set eyes
to find her son a cure.

Dusty, proud a picker’s
Plastic sacks
Bright silks
of a peacock feather.

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, Life & Obervations, People, Poem, Sri Lanka, Travel | 2 Comments




Endless rain.
Endless rain.
Voices strain
drowned out,
as armies.

Endless leaves,
400 greens
No flinch.

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in by David Bugg, Forest, Monsoon, Nature, Poem, Rain, Sri Lanka, Travel, Weather | 1 Comment

Photo Poem: “On Entering The Woods”

On Entering The Woods

Urban forest scene

On entering the woods,
external noise is lessened
and daylight settles
for that shadowy compromise.

On passing under the trees,
the body’s genes tighten 
and senses heighten
to recall a wilder past.

On leaving behind the copse,
a still mind is flooded
and human life coupled
(it never became detached)
with nature’s daily system

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Forest, Life & Obervations, Nature, Poem, Sound | Leave a comment

Twelve hour day


Twelve hour day

Santa Claus is coming…to town

Accompanies squawks

from parakeets

as…the sun…rises.

unaware of sound,
I am casually
A grey monkey
fist clenched
on a leaf.

We understand
one another.

And still the sun
bakes us
and all
that is green.

The red globe
with no splash
no drip.
Cue for
hungry masses,
swarm as a
And marks…

By David Bugg (2012)


Posted in 2012, Beach, by David Bugg, Dawn, Day, Dusk, Poem, Sri Lanka, Sunrise, Sunset, Tropical | 1 Comment

Of Polonnaruwa and Midday Heat

Of Polonnaruwa and Midday Heat

Troops of children breathe and learn,
of cultures hewn from stone.
Ancient peoples long removed,
their ruins lacking throne.

From sun-baked sandals
Toes protrude,
Or hardened soles meet
Soil nude,
Bare behinds from dwarves
Maned beasts, paw raised, stand guard

In a green leaf filtered glow,
the snoozing monkeys lie.
Whilst at the speed of midday life,
lone tortoise plods on by.

By David Bugg (2012)


Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Heat, Poem, Religion, Spirituality, Sri Lanka, Travel, Tropical | 1 Comment

Unbearable Lightness

Unbearable Lightness

He waits…
and waits…
like buses
2 arrive
and a third.
The wait is over
and the unbearable lightness
becomes lighter.

By David Bugg (April 2011)


Posted in 2011, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, People, Poem | Leave a comment



Gold watch,
Pink tie,
Shoes gleam
like owner.

You decide, already.
A man, imprisoned,
guilty without trial.
Cell block Y. Categorised.

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, People, Poem | 1 Comment

Futile? Vanity.

Futile? Vanity.

Quadriceps burn,
like chilli oil injected,
and veins pulse.

Grey muscles,
ache like legs
ever pounding
psycho marathons
but no finish.
Just dotted lines,
re-written targets,
over shoulder,
then empty.

Only forward makes sense,
at least to us,
senseless runners.

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, People, Poem, Spirituality | Leave a comment

The Girl Looks

The Girl Looks

The girl has the look,
as if she knows she has it,
she looks inward,
wears a social shield,
amor chinks
pierced solely
by well sharpened swords,
from professional gamesmen.
Else, the fool is fooled again?

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Love, People, Poem | Leave a comment

Font vs Text

Font vs Text

The font needs text,
like the adjective needs
the noun.

Points, dashes,
they come and go.

Pts, they cum + go

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, by David Bugg, Language, Poem, Poetry, Text | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “What Zedong Said…”

Writing a poem - pen to paper

What Zedong Said…

Amateurs speak with broken prose,

verse scrubbed clean of grime,

and lines that end in perfect rhyme.

Whilst students tend the teachers’ needs

cut-backs bring families to their knees,

a young girl’s biro

ebbs and bleeds,

black blood the banks’ recession feeds

and reams and reams we now will see,

rejected minds’ creativity.

Devoid of human worker bees,

no longer long to up and flee

a land of modern tyranny.

Perhaps the youth will fill such roles,

and let young artists’ minds dissolve,

or rather brew a cooking pot,

tedium’s tapa traps the lot

and wait while hot pot simmers,

for revolution-fed hot dinners.

And therein lies the critic’s contention,

when art is dreamed not of invention,

conceived as jingle,

bohemian betrayal.

Only the soul is not for sale?

The kids aim high

celebrity lover

when life – not just career – is measured,

by Simon, Cheryl or Big Brother.

But evolution still may come,

revolution – preferred by some,

is softly uttered by British tongues,

not yelled aloud from patriotic lungs,

for this go search new world afar,

yet leave the nation’s door ajar,

allow people’s public

to creep back home

and then they sit and moan and wonder,

under government we lost our right,

our passive fight

boiled into drones

and out of sight.

Now the youth has filled a gap,

yet left us with a hole to plug,

but with no tap

our view is steered

to aged pros,

with modern prose.

Creation now ended,

old guard defended,

Collins, Duffy now resurrected,

to feed the sap,

to grow from seed,

convert weed to thriving vine,

for when financial spring arrives,

may our minds be filled with blossom.

by David Bugg (2010)

Note:  The title for this poem was supposed to just be a working title (but has stuck simply because I cannot think of anything else) was inspired by this quote from Mao Zedong:

There is in fact no such thing as art for art’s sake, art that stands above classes, art that is detached from or independent of politics. Proletarian literature and art are part of the whole proletarian revolutionary cause.
Mao Zedong

Posted in 2010, Arab Spring, Art, Artists, by David Bugg, Credit Crunch, Culture & Art, Economy, Life & Obervations, Poem, Poetry, Recession, Revolution | 1 Comment




All that happens
is smoke drifts
like a magic carpet.
Pale amber lights
to remind us they are working.

Clouds, dull grey,
pretend to care
as part of a
half hearted
likeable sky.

By David Bugg (2012)

Posted in 2012, Airport, by David Bugg, City, city, Light, Poem, Sky, Travel | Leave a comment



Set the rules
Then pick and choose
Who gets to
Hop – skip – run – leap – jump
kick things off.

One to fire
5 to race
Fastest pace
Leaves 4 to chase
Then 3 do battle
First keeps jumping
Rockets soaring
Boys a sliding
One on one.
Won by one.

Now lonely loser, prize delivered
Rules amended
Rockets are mended
1 is injured
Ego un-dented he soldiers on
…Guile unaffected.

Lads like jack
Cubs in a pack
Adults & kids toys
they say boys will be.

By David Bugg (2011)

Posted in 2011, by David Bugg, Games, Photo, Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Dog Fur to Tick

Dog Fur to Tick

I make you tick

parasite life

dog fur to tick.

You feed off me

I make you click

A friendly flea

dog fur to tick

parasitic means

for sharing

worldly scenes

within one


by David Bugg

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, Love, Poem | Leave a comment

Likened to Mud

Likened to Mud

I stick to mud

You stick to me

Lichen to tree

Like sphagnum

Clings upon

A stone

Set deep

Into a bog.

By David Bugg (2009)

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, Love, Nature, People, Poem | Leave a comment



Brown suede – gold ring – blue jeans,

alike, content,

it seems,

of rust – lichen – of cloud,

of city life,

it dreams,

sleep-walks-on and on through life.

By David Bugg (2009)

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, People, Poem | Leave a comment

The Wall

The Wall

Soles, alone, pound the organic trail

chores, voluntarily, assumed and done

for joy, for fun,

aches rise like

the thick humid damp

dragging limbs (and)

sagging minds.

Electric, in series, empowering the soul,

discharging, in parallel, head to toe



dying, alive

space hits out

a sudden silent thud

freezing the march

absorbing all sound.

by David Bugg (2009)

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, Poem | Leave a comment

2009 Mini Rhymes…

I came across a series of old mini poems from 2009…I will struggle to fit a suitable photo to them so am going to post them now one per day from tomorrow.

They are silly little rhymes but meant something to me at the time (as all poems surely do to the author)…see next few posts.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “Pencil to Paper”

Pencil to Paper - Poem

“Pencil to Paper”

I put a question

first to myself

then to the page.

Is it even worth

writing down?

Mindless plagerism,

dropping of names,

like Billy Collins,

as Massive Attack

whispered to Sunday pm sounds.

Atmospheric beats


by a kettle like

a jet plane

taking off

for afternoon tea.

Cups brewing

as beats return

and drumsticks

scribble without relent.

Why write it down?

Is what I wrote,

in pencil –

as if to emphasise

its temporary nature.

by David Bugg (2011)

Posted in 2011, Billy Collins, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, Poem, Poetry | 1 Comment

Lincolnshire’s Poet Laureate writes Theddlethorpe verse

Just heard a real nice poem on Country Tracks, it’s by Joel Stickley and was inspired by a warning sign on Theddlethorpe beach…

Untitled (Theddlethorpe)

At Theddlethorpe, the sea goes out for miles

and England falls away beneath your feet

while concrete bunkers hidden on the dunes

wait silently for rabbits to retreat.

Amongst the drift of wood and broken shells,

the path along the seaweed tide is lined

with white-on-red official signs that warn

that there’ll be no reward for things you find.

He searches anyway, his school shoes wet,

imagination full of guns and gold.

He scuffs his feet through suspect spots of sand;

somewhere, back home, his dinner’s getting cold.

He wants a souvenir of something real;

he wants to hold a thing that heroes held –

a hand grenade, an unexploded bomb.

He wants his heart to swell as theirs have swelled.

One scuffing school shoe thunks on something hard.

He kneels down and starts to excavate.

He feels it – metal, buried in the sand.

One hand digs deep, then pulls. He feels the weight.

It shucks off sand, emerges with a schwup;

the cavity refills with rising silt.

His breathing quick, he wipes the metal clean.

His heart swells now – excitement, fear and guilt.

He holds it up, the surface oddly slick;

it feels so heavy, alien and dead.

Then something from a video game he played:

‘War never changes,’ whispers in his head.

‘It never does,’ the lump of metal says.

He drops it, stung. It thumps into the sand.

A second passes – he is still alive.

It stares at him. He wipes dirt from his hand.

It speaks again – a hollow metal voice:

‘But you don’t know the smell of blood, my lad.

Your Xbox zombies never taught you that –

that churning in your gut you’ve never had.’

He turns and runs – the rabbits scatter out.

The puddled sands reflect the afternoon,

then rise to fill his footsteps as he goes.

The concrete bunkers stare out from the dune.

He stumbles on a sunken pile of kelp,

turns with his ankle, spins and sprints away.

Behind him sits the lump of metal, still;

he knows that there’ll be no reward today.

He feels a burning in his throat and lungs.

Imagined spitfires cover his retreat.

At Theddlethorpe, the sea goes out for miles

and England falls away beneath his feet

Joel Stickley

I am very keen on this modern trend by poets to write verses that combine the everyday, almost mundane, with classic beauty or simple mini story telling (David Bugg).

Lincolnshire’s Poet Laureate writes Theddlethorpe verse – Leisure – Louth Leader.

Posted in Poem, Poetry | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “Departure Loungers”


“Departure Loungers”

The purple flannel suit drew my eye,

“shall I buy a coca cola?”

American, of course, thought I,

dry as brut, my throat’s relief,

A man, alone, nursing Heineken

from cans.

A place of big spaces

travellers wait and wait,

people alone surrounded by others,

accompanied by clever phones,

companions for wandering businessmen souls.

All with common goals,

a longing for neutral airspace

and leaving the lounges, for

departures back home.

By David Bugg (2011)

Posted in 2011, Airport, by David Bugg, People, Poem, Smart Phones, Technology, Travel | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “Of American Countryside”

Of American Countryside

Lands of contrast, rolling at will

decked green, with vegetation

Calming seas like maids,

ironing smooth but smooth

the sands of former lives

and beaches,

themselves embossed with joy, and

current lives of certain dignity.

Almost as standard the limitless skies

as blue and high,

as the flag

solo, and rippling with pride.

by David Bugg (Jan 2007)

Posted in 2007, Beach, by David Bugg, Nature, Sea, Sky, South America, Travel | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “With Tropical Ease”

“With Tropical Ease”

Salty lips soothed

by a steady breeze

that sweeps

west to east.

Tight salty flavour

grains of sand between teeth,

all passive

crabs flutter by.

Rumbles from the sea

not a wave in sight

lazy motors

slowly. slowly.

by David Bugg (2011)

(Written whilst chilling on a beach in Zanzibar the day before my wedding)

Posted in 2011, Beach, by David Bugg, Photo, Poem, Sea, Travel, Tropical, Zanzibar | 1 Comment

Trashed on cider by Jarvis Cocker (2005)

Not by me!!  By the great Pulp front man…the poem was placed in large steel letters on the side of a building in the Forge student village in Sheffield.

Trashed on cider by Jarvis Cocker (2005)

Within these walls

the future may be

being forged

Or maybe

Jez is getting trashed

on cider

But when you melt

you become the shape

of your surroundings:

Your horizons

become wider.

Don’t they teach

you no brains

at that school?

by  Jarvis Cocker (2005)

Posted in by Jarvis Cocker, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Sheffield, Students | 1 Comment

Coat by Vicki Feaver (1943-)

I have decided to add some poems I enjoy to this blog site to show you some real artists at work.  I hope it is clear enough that they are not by me!

Here’s one I came across in 2010 – I love imagining the feeling of the heavy coat.

Coat by Vicki Feaver (1943-)
Sometimes I have wanted

to throw you off

like a heavy coat.

Sometimes I have said

you would not let me

breathe or move.

But now that I am free

to choose light clothes

or none at all

I feel the cold

and all the time I think

how warm it used to be.

-Vicki Feaver (1943-)

Posted in by Vicki Feaver, Love, People, Poem, Poet, Poetry | Leave a comment

Wireless Networking

Wireless Networking

Families chat face to face

screen to screen

from a far away place

hear first words

will this suffice?

Teams work like teams

typed out text

through wireless data streams

hang on a thread

highly efficient?

Friends like strangers

nudge and like

bonds spread so thin

they’ll have their day.

By David Bugg (2010)

Posted in 2010, by David Bugg, Poem, Technology | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “All I Can See”

Tower and sky, Tower Hill OrmskirkAll I Can See

The tree tops and branches,

from natural stems

a recycling system

torn bark as cuttings

birds collecting this season’s home.

A layer of green

and white and pink,

dead trees support the living,

a site of rubble to one side,

nature’s building site the other,

our glowing sun struggling behind clouds,

a rare, fair compromise.

David Bugg (2001)


Posted in 2001, by David Bugg, Nature, Poem | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “Think of Everybody”

Think of Everybody

Think of everyone,

body you know,

seen, heard



A grain of sand,

a living desert

for every

body, soul



What you do now,

they did then,

make life,

move, love,



By David Bugg (2009)

Strangers pass by

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, People, Poem, Population | 1 Comment

Photo Poem: “Poem to Night”

Camping at night

Poem to Night

Melodies reach clouds,

through chirps,

and serenade gangs of stern

blocks pretending to be rocks

aged skins continue to soften,

in a whirlpool,

above as words whirl

below piercing sweet wisps of pipe.

The time for silence,

silent assassins,

draw blood and rejoice,

in communal frenzy for electrical light.

by David Bugg (2008)

Posted in 2008, by David Bugg, Night, Poem | Leave a comment

“Das ist mir egal”

Das ist mir egal,

dass dies mein Leben ist,

weil das was ich nicht habe,

hätte ich niemals vermißt.

David Bugg (2000)


Poor effort on my behalf here as there are some poems of old that I struggle to put a photo to but want to put them out there anyway…

Posted in 2000, by David Bugg, Deutsch / German, Life & Obervations, Poem | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: untitled

Roars of ‘encore’!Singer in Band at Gig

And tremendous applause.

The reverberation and

Grand finale,

friction between atmosphere

and expression,

between chord and string.

Anxiety, excitation, passion

or energy, moving or

vibrational motion.

Nature, art and science

in unison.

David Bugg (2001)


Lead Singers at Music Gig

Posted in 2000, by David Bugg, Music, Photo, Photography, Poem, Poetry | Leave a comment

Photo Poem: “Busy, busy, might never be’s”

Busy busy bumble bee among Lavender

Busy, busy, might never be’s

Busy, busy, might never be’s

one step after another,

cleaning up after the trees.

Mow down one ant-hill,

to be replaced by another,

and dream of being

her lonely hearts lover.

David Bugg (2000)


Footnote:  Ok, a tenuous link I agree but I like the shot and the poem is pretty short…admittedly I am going to struggle at times to get the right shot for the text, so in some cases they might not work as well as others.

Enjoy nevertheless.

Posted in 2000, by David Bugg, Life & Obervations, Poem | 1 Comment

Poema con Foto: “A Despertarse”

River Valley - Los Alcornocales, Andalucia. Spain.

A Despertarse

de pie


del agua

del río

los hombros


el sentido

me dio

a nacerme

de nuevo

sin decirte

dios mío


para afuera

muy lento

y sencillo

las olas


las alas

ni paraban

a nível

de los ojos

los pequeños


casi al agua

ni nadan

ni flotaban

el momento


todo cuerpo

y la mente

ambos desnudos

ya están listos



by David Bugg (2010)

Posted in 2010, by David Bugg, Espanol, Espanol / Spanish, Foto, Language, Los Alcornocales, Nature, Photo, Photography, Poem, Poema, Poetry, Spain, Spanish | 2 Comments

Shikoku Haiku

City Lights - traffic

(Shikoku Haiku)

The lights are moving

More than time is passing by

The living stand still.

David Bugg (2003)

Posted in 2003, by David Bugg, City, Haiku, Light, Poem, Travel | 1 Comment

Photo Poem: “Sparse”

Flocks Geese in the Sunset Sky


The gaping plain

stretching near far and wide

so free and so spacious

omni-present by your side.

Envy the beings

who see us through their eye

many routes, many means

not the same though we might try.

When day gives way.

Colours battle to survive

the injured become hues

only darkness is now alive.

La résistance

such beauty will never die

twinkling or beaming bright

so much more than just a sky.

David Bugg (2000)

Posted in 2000, Birds, by David Bugg, Nature, Photo, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Sky | 1 Comment

Photo Poem: “Soul”

Stormy Emotions


When all is lost,

but to blame is clear,

bury thoughts deep beneath,

no need to shed a tear.

A warning is offered,

as many would agree,

things don’t always stay buried,

yet never become free.

Stay in reach of the surface,

if trouble brews again,

express the fears and sorrow,

confide in a true friend.

Some talk of massive forces,

think of a storm at sea,

such a soothing explanation,

finally letting nature be.

David Bugg (2000)

Posted in 2000, by David Bugg, Emotion, Friendship, Poem | Tagged | 1 Comment

Photo Poem: “New”

Soft Flowers


think of a feather

how soft is your mind?

the faintest of touches

thoughts and body combined.

A scratch with no scar

feel love, don’t feel a thing

such force within a bond

stretched along a single string.

David Bugg (2000)

Posted in 2000, by David Bugg, Emotion, Love, Poem | 1 Comment

Economy Class

They are fed into the machine,

Grim-faced yet eager to be

Sorted, by row, by class.

A background hum…accompanied by

Shuffles, wheezing, cough!

mumble. mumble.

Dry still and warm as a day baked car,

Air is short and breath still shorter

Bumbling aides busy in routine

Signs of conforming youth, elegance

Betrayed by tight white visible lines.

“Please listen”, pay careful attention,

the machine is committed to safety

are the backs of heads committed?

Or too focussed on white lines?

A smooth ride starts with a jolt.

As trouser legs cling gently to basted skin,

Begins the safe travel, and rows of minds,

Rows and rows of minds busy themselves,

Switch off, scan texts, Zeitungen and novels of cat’s piss

–   keeping busy, busy, whilst

Trousers stick, ideas melt, occupied

minds keep busy.

by David Bugg (2009)

Aeroplane - Economy Class

Posted in 2009, by David Bugg, Photo, Poem, Travel | Leave a comment

Baby Talk

Baby Talk

cute baby portrait

What’s that?
squeak, hum
and blurb. Sounds like
warm, moist
as baby’s drool.

via voice,
pitch. Shrieks
a sure sign.

grown fully,
baby talk.

If babies

by David Bugg (2010)

Posted in 2010, Babies, by David Bugg, Photo, Poem, Poetry | 1 Comment

My first attempt…’Mantra’


Buddhist Prayer & Meditation


Nostrils flare, engulf sunken air

– thick as paddy field mud,

baked, feet, soothed,

free to an open dragging breeze.

Deep breath.

Eyes close.

Breath out – gently.  Air is fragile.

Focus the mind

On its circular target, and

Senses are cut.

Only sound remains.

Mantras drift lightly above denser


Again, noise, settles into sediment


Monk drones – hums – flutter by

and into my mind, on damselfly


Engine grumbles compete for

attention – rushers come

and go

but weaken with breathes.

Buddhists hold firm to the


Rough tannoy chants, Muslim

prayers pierce unseen barriers

to the left.

Spiritual voices

distinct peoples’ choices.

Nature reminds – its incessancy

its constancy – it is

“we are”

Belches Toké.

Insect chorus provides backing.

Still minds drift.

Still – calm – minds rise above

as noises jostle

and all sounds will settle.

by David Bugg (2010)


Posted in 2010, Buddhism, by David Bugg, Indonesia, Islam, Photo, Poem, Poetry, Religion, Spirituality, Travel | 1 Comment

A new project: Photo – Poetry

This marks the start of a new project that I have been thinking about for around a year now.  I enjoy taking a photograph that tells a story; reveals an emotion or triggers your thinking.

Over the years I have also jotted down notes that I loosely term as ‘poetry’ although I know very very little about poetry and may well be no good at it.  I’ll let others judge.

So, my project is to combine the two giving the reader’s mind a kick start into picturing the scene or tone of the poem…leaving the reader to develop that picture further themselves.

That’s the plan – we’ll have to see how it works out!

For buggslife photography visit this link.

Posted in Photography, Poetry | Leave a comment