Tuesday, February 1, 2011




Hey ho for the life of a Busker!
We see them each day on the street.
Tossing or throwing
Or clarinet-blowing
Regardless of shimmering heat!
Hey ho for the life of a Busker!
They bravely stand there on display.
Their one recompense
Some dollars or cents
That people throw down on their way.
Hey ho for the life of a Busker.
For sometimes they go to extremes,
Exhibiting skills
To help pay the bills,
And living, it's certain, on dreams.



What message are you sending, Indian Brave?
Is it about a world that we should save?
Do you see us squandering all our wealth?
Do you see us taking the world by stealth?
Do you mourn the death of native crops?
Are you thirsty when the river stops?
Do subdivisions decimate your land?
Are White Men all too slow to understand?
Your messages, unseen, hang on the air,
Smoke signals that should make us all aware.


Saw Lady said...

Nice poem about buskers. (I'm a busker in the New York City subway. I found your blog through a Google search for poetry about busking).

All the best,

Saw Lady

Kat said...

BUSKER: Interesting... a snap shot on buskers