A Shattered Life

I look around at a shattered life
that I was trying to build.
Meddlers came in and ruined
the comforting solace I had.
They turned the life I had
into their own confused state
and wanting to leave it there,
discarding what I held precious,
which was no use in their eyes.
They saw only destruction
and not the demise of someone’s life.
What didn’t suit their purpose
held nothing for them
but getting rid of someone’s joy
brought great pleasure to them.
They worked with great fever
to dismantle someone’s life
throwing away what meant nothing to them.
They saw no tears of anguish
for their senseless meddling,

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poem by David Harris
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Friends Across The Internet

This poem goes out to all my friends wherever they may live.

Someone said to me recently
you cannot count people on the internet
really as your friends.
When asked why not?
They replied, you never see them,
never touch their hands,
so you really cannot count them as friends.
I disagreed with them entirely;
friends are what you make people.
Maybe you cannot see them,
nor touch them physically,
but when you write to them,
you feel you know them;
sometimes more than
those you meet everyday.
My wish is one day
I will be able to meet all of them
and give them a big hug individually,

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poem by David Harris
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The Mumble Syndrome (Fun Poem 104)

Do you ever get one of those days
when the brain runs amok
and the tongue won’t get into gear
and all you can utter is gibberish
for the whole world to hear.

I think we all know some politicians
that could easily fit that bill.
They call it the mumble syndrome
and we all get a touch of it sometimes
and always when we least expect it.

The bridegroom at his wedding
gets up to make a toast to his in-laws
when his brain starts to race
and his tongue isn’t quick enough
and he forgets the in-laws name
and starts to toast someone else.

Then there is the proposal

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poem by David Harris
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Butterfly

Across a scarlet sky there wings a butterfly,
he passes over a million heads,
a thousand lives fruitlessly lead.
Such a sight my eyes behold,
with no motive I am told.
Waters deep from rippling streams
glazed of gold by sunbeams.
What is such a seeming less trek,
the phantoms of the mind conjures,
are the images we see, ourselves,
or are we just microscopic cells.

Flowers on a thorny bush,
with beauty such as they inspire,
petals bright of scarlet flames,
bathed in the sun’s warm desire.
Here we stand some minute speck
near the greater door.
Something more than our mind can behold.
Our future somewhere inside is stored.

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poem by David Harris
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Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance? 2

Yesterday I wrote a joke poem,
Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance,
it told the story of how I met my wife,
all those years ago.
Yes, it was at her first husband’s funeral,
and yes a group of us
met a couple weeks later in a coffee bar,
but no it was not the drawing of a straw,
it was that I volunteered,
which I guess was lucky for me,
because on the 12th of September this year
we celebrate our 37th Wedding Anniversary.

Her first husband was a friend,
but he was a womaniser.
He met his dead in a suicide pact
with a fourteen-year-old girl.
He left a wife and two small children,
without a thought or care,
a month before Christmas that year.

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poem by David Harris
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Three Hearts

For JoAnn and Meggie
My adopted sisters and partners in poems

When you take partners
in whatever you do,
they become extra close,
becoming an extended family.
They bring an inner joy
that is sometimes hard to find.
They share a special place
deep within your heart.
If you write together
as I do with my adopted sisters,
you like to compliment each other
with every line you write.
A special bond is formed,
not only with the friendship
that grows on a daily basis.
You care about them
always trying to ensure

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poem by David Harris
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I Met My Girl On The Other End Of My Penny Chew (Fun Poem 19)

Well, there I was in the candy store,
choosing my candy from the counter.
In she walked wings on her feet,
and her head, way up in the clouds.
I grabbed up a penny chew,
before I could even get the wrapper off,
she was on the other end of it.
I looked down my nose;
all I could see were teeth,
and two big eyeballs looking at me.

Well, there I was looking at what I had hooked,
the fish kept wriggling in front of me.
When along she came bold as brass,
and stood right there beside me.
I grabbed up a penny chew,
before I could even get the wrapper off,
she was on the other end of it.
I looked down my nose;
all I could see were teeth,

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poem by David Harris
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Fugitive From The Law

They caught him and they tried him,
then they found him guilty and sentenced him to prison.
He proclaimed he was innocent.
Then as they transported him to prison,
an accident occurred and he escaped.
Now he was a fugitive from the law.

He ran into the night,
trying to find some place to hide.
Doors slammed in his face,
with words “we don’t want you here.”
So into the darkness he ran.

Hiding in the shadows, a frightened man.
The countryside he chose,
hoping they wouldn’t find him there.
In the distance, he saw their lights,
sweeping from side to side.

Their dogs yelped as they caught his scent.

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poem by David Harris
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Joys of Flat Packing (Fun Poem 33)

For those who built models
when we were a kid.
Remember all the enjoyment we had
putting all the pieces together.
Then we grew up to build bigger models,
wardrobes, cabinets and things.
Fun they look until
you take out the instructions,
only to find they are in a foreign language.
Something that you cannot understand.
Now if you get over that hurdle,
there is still more to come.
Before too long you are scratching your head again.
The possibilities are endless here.
You have a piece that is missing
or something that will not fit.
If your one of the lucky ones,
someone has put in some extras,
or have you missed something out somewhere?
It is back to the instruction,

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poem by David Harris
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Help Me If You Can (Fun Poem 60)

It all started in October
when I had a series of mini strokes.
Ever since then my brain
has run amok.
At first there seem
nothing had effected me.
Now I see something did happen,
someone has left the tap on
deep inside my head
and the words and poems
just keep pouring out
each and everyday.
Since October 329, written
and they are coming more and more.
Can someone please help me
to turn that damn tap off?
Everywhere I go and everything I see
suggest another poem
that has to be written down.
At the rate, I’m going

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poem by David Harris
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