In Words Unspoken
In the silence of the morning,
before the world has woken
I sit and dream my dreams
in words unspoken.
I sit and ponder the faces of life
in the nightmares of reality,
the programmes that hold us spellbound
as they appear on our TV screens
while all the world screams out with fright.
I dream my dreams in private
as their images dance inside my head,
the beauty and the wonder
upon each life befalls.
The miracles that we witness
in each day of our lives
as we walk across the threshold
to greet each new passing day.
From the birth of a new born baby
to someone’s life that has been saved.
The miracle of Mother Nature
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poem by David Harris
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A Bitter Tear
The falling leaves of autumn
lay scattered where they fall
nurturing the land with goodness
before their end days call.
Yet here we stand superior beings
or so ourselves we think
as we poison this good earth,
never giving anything back.
We take and take and take
until one day in the future
we will come to realise
the error of our ways
and all the mistakes we have made.
When one day the beauty is gone
and only a land of dust remains,
that we who should be guardians
will realise to our shame.
It will be too late
to turn back from the abyss
that we have created in our greed.
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poem by David Harris
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It Could Only Happen To Me
Everywhere I go strange things happen to me,
little adventures you might call them.
Some are funny, but none of them sad,
most makes you step back
and wonder what is going on.
Everyone prompts me to write something
whether it is a story or a poem.
When I first met my brother many years ago, I stayed with an Aunt. As we pulled up outside her home we were shocked to see
what we had thought to be a friend of ours,
but in reality, it was a cousin.
The resemblance was uncanny
that even my wife noticed it too.
Once when we went to the Isle of Wight for a weeks break
I took the wrong turn and ended up in a Carnival
with everyone waving at us.
A good way to start a holiday
getting VIP status on the first day.
However, this is not uncommon it happens wherever I go.
People only have to meet me once
after that they recognise me wherever I go.
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poem by David Harris
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Favourites
Authors are funny creatures
whenever we write.
Most of the time
we don’t like what we’ve written,
but there are occasions
when we will write something
that we really do like,
then we hate
letting that fledgling out of the nest.
I’ve been writing for more years
than I really care to admit,
and yes, I have my favourites
among all the writing I’ve done.
A novel called Blind Tiger
has never left the nest
and a short story called
The Man Who Was Always Late,
again never seen by anyone.
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poem by David Harris
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A Face With No Future
I look in the mirror,
and what do I see?
A face with no future,
stares out at me.
On the table, a glass and a bottle,
of my favourite poison.
When I was young,
I drank to be alive.
Now all I do,
is drink to survive.
My eyes bloodshot,
filled with vacant stare.
My face goes unshaven,
but what do I care?
My bottle is now empty,
quickly replace with one full.
Soon it will be empty,
just like this fool.
Family and friends fled.
My eyes were blind.
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poem by David Harris
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Heroes
There are no super heroes in this world,
but there are heroes abound.
They are ordinary people
just like you and I.
They cannot leap tall buildings
with a single bound,
or scale walls with their fingertips.
They cannot fly without wings,
nor stop speeding cars
just by standing in front of them.
What they can do and do
is go out of their way to save lives.
They want no recognition
for the risks they sometimes take.
A spur of the moment action
is all their bravery takes.
They put their lives on the line
so others may live,
and then walk away from it
when it is all over
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poem by David Harris
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No Hidden Agendas
There are no hidden agendas
in my writings or my life.
No subliminal messages
I feel I have to get through.
My life is too much an open book
with the good and bad I have done
and my writing speaks for itself,
mainly simple and full of fun.
Life is too short to go without trust
with both friends you can and cannot see.
I am not a very clever man,
but someone who is simple and honest
and the things I write are based on the same principal.
I do not lie to those I can see
and I do not lie to those I cannot.
If someone wants to hurt me
and destroy the trust I have in them,
they can do that so very easily.
However, what will they gain from that?
Probably only the loss of a very beloved friend.
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poem by David Harris
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The Blindman
Here I stand with banners bleeding
staring into night’s dark secrets.
A world beyond the mortal kind
that has repelled its time,
where creatures from nightmares passed
gaze out to stare at me.
Here I stand my eyes awaking
to the prey of morning light.
Demons from their restless bed
rise for glory in this time,
but who will stop this wretched band
only the sight of one Blindman.
Here I stand with lies repeating
waiting for a spiritual time.
Crazed with glory’s mantle
the demons from the frightful night
begin to take their ground
until the moonlight strikes.
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poem by David Harris
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A Forty-Year-Old Virgin
She stood well out from the crowd
a brown paper bag over her head
with four holes cut out
for her eyes, nose and mouth.
She proclaimed she was a virgin
and you could very well see why.
Imagine going out with someone
who resembled the man in the iron mask.
Her clothes were old fashion,
hand-me-downs from her great grandmother.
Other women got into trouble
but it will never happen to me,
everyone agreed it would never happen to her.
She said she was waiting for Mr Right to come along.
From the state of her, it would be a long time coming to,
so everyone remarked and thought.
Then the impossible happened,
she met a man with a paper bag on his head.
It was love at first sight.
Right away, she knew this was the man for her.
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poem by David Harris
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Immortals Of The Silver Screen - Laurel and Hardy
This the beginning of a series
in which I’ll pay tribute to
some of my silver screen heroes.
First in the series just has to be
the best and the most loved
comedy duo who ever lived.
They have filled our world with laughter
while they were alive,
and are still doing it now
after they are long gone.
They were stars in their own right,
but together they soared to new heights.
They inspired a generation of comedians then
and they are inspiring generations now.
Two very talented men,
one from England - Stan Laurel.
One from America - Oliver Hardy.
Although their credits
do not always appear on their films,
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poem by David Harris
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