Bring Back The Good Old Rock ‘n’ Roll

Bring back the good old Rock ‘n’ Roll
we used to dance to.
Bring back the good old Rock ‘n’ Roll
that we used to know.
Bring back the good old tunes and artist too.
Bring back the giants on to the field
Elvis; Haley, Ricky Nelson and Buddy Holly just to name a few.

Let us hear again Duane Eddy and his twangy guitar,
Connie Francis asking Where The Boys Are.
Clarence ‘Frogman’ Henry warbling But I Do
and Cliff Richards mobbed by girls saying I Love You.

That is just to mention a few.
I remember the fifties and sixties
and the fun we had at the local dance halls
and jukeboxes blaring loud.

Johnny Cymbal with Mr Bass Man,
Danny and the Juniors At The Hop.

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poem by David Harris
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The Art of Conversation (Fun Poem 126)

In today’s society something is missing,
the art of conversation.
Nearly everyone forty and under
has a phone in their hand,
call It a mobile or a cell
it doesn’t matter which.
They use it twenty-four seven
not only for talking, but texting.
You see them in a restaurant
texting the person opposite only a foot away.
They say they do it because of the noise
and the noise they refer to is other phones ringing.
However, they don’t realise just how silly they look.
What could take a few minutes
takes more minutes to text.
Sometimes they even forget what they are eating
and pop their phone in their mouth.
A phone doesn’t taste as nice as a juicy sirloin steak.
When they order their phone,
they could order different colours.

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poem by David Harris
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Pen In Hand

I have tried to analyse myself
and why I do the things, I do.
When I was a kid I wanted to be a policeman,
though I had the height,
I wasn’t that smart,
so as that idea went out the window
and no new ideas came along,
I decided to become a nobody
for what else could I be.
I was no good at English,
nor any good at maths,
I couldn’t even roller skate
as I kept falling down.
Everything I tried to do
I failed miserably,
so why did I take up writing,
it doesn’t make sense at all.
English was my worst subject,
so why would I want to write
I can’t think of any reason for it.

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poem by David Harris
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Mysteries Of My Life

There are many mysteries in my life
for which an answer for I do not possess.

Why after an almost a lifetime
of wishing I had a brother
only to find did when it was too late
to really get to know him?

Why after fulfilling a wish of a late friend
would the acknowledgement
that I yearned for
start to really, begin?

Why when I never wanted to drive
did I get involve in an accident
as a passenger and changed my mind?

Why after yearning to capture my past
and talk to some old school friends
did I find a stranger I barely knew,

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poem by David Harris
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Why Do I Write

People often ask me why do I write,
unfortunately I have no answer.
I started when I was eighteen
when my then girlfriend
said we were through.
I said to myself
if the Beatles can do it why not try it.
I was lonely with nothing else better to do
and it all progressed from there.
The more I wrote the better I got
and now I don’t even think about it
as the ideas just come to me
and I write them down quickly before they pass.
When I started, my parents said
it was just a passing phase,
but here almost half a century has gone by
and that seems like some long passing phase.
Of course as I progressed, I experimented
with poetry, short stories and novels,
now my back library seems endless

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poem by David Harris
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Apologise

How can you apologise
when you’re not sure
what you’re apologising for.
My intentions have never been
to worry people that something
in my life is going wrong.
Too many times I write poems,
others see are so heartfelt,
that they immediately write
to me asking if everything is OK.
It is nice for them to be so concerned,
and I feel that I must apologise,
if some how I’ve led them to believe
my life is a bit battered and worn,
and that my marriage
is under some kind of storm.
My marriage is rock solid
as it has always been.
As for my life,
I think we all have had

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poem by David Harris
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For My New Friend

I read a poem the other day,
of how we should look at the inner person.
Not at the way, that person looks or dresses,
nor the texture and colour of their skin,
but the real person that lies within.
I made a new friend last week by doing exactly that.
So many people had told me
that he was arrogant and abusive,
that he expected you
to do everything for him.
The person they were talking about is a paraplegic.
He lives his days in a wheelchair,
has trouble opening doors
and doing the up the laces in his shoes.
So yes, he needs help now and then.
I was helping him navigate
through several sets of doors.
We struck up a conversation,
and as we talked I found
what none of the others had seen.

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poem by David Harris
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Easter Sermon

Each Easter three words come to mind, Betrayal, Crucifixion and Resurrection. We wonder how these can be relevant within our daily lives.
Betrayal.
Betrayal normally comes from people we hold close, friends and even our family.
Crucifixion.
Crucifixion comes from the words they bandy about to others making us look as if we are nasty and cheap. We then get the sly glances and whispering remarks behind our back from others whose words are based on what the betrayer has said.
Resurrection.
Resurrection comes when we rise above the sly remarks and innuendoes that are said. Rise above them and start a new and better life.
Yes, those three words are relevant within our daily lives. We need only look, around and we will see them everyday in people’s lives and we have probably felt them ourselves in our own lives from time to time.

Amen

12 April 2009

Author’s Note.

For those who may not know I am a pretend Preacher in a Western Town called Deadwood which I helped build. I have a church and as the Preacher I have to give a service on the Sundays whenever we are there. The above is my Easter Sermon I delivered on Sunday 12 April 2009. I always keep my sermons short to ensure no one falls asleep while I am delivering them. Thank you for reading this.

DVH.

poem by David Harris
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Eric The Brick

Eric the Brick and his good friend
Bob the Block had a problem;
both were in love with Molly Mortar.
Each one wanted to impress her,
but neither knew what to buy.
Each thought of many things,
but everything they thought of
on Molly’s finger slipped through.
Each tried to think of an idea to impress her,
but neither could think of a thing.
They took their problem to Sally Sand
and asked her what they could do.
As Sally slipped through the sieve,
she that they should go
and either see Celia Cement or Winifred Water.
Celia could not help them,
but Winifred suggested they get her a Bactrian
and then the two of them could ride away
together into the desert sunset.
Bill the Block then said, “Hey what about me? ”

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poem by David Harris
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Bad For Your Health

I looked at some photos
of many years ago.
Boy, did I look young.
They were taken before
the grey hairs and wrinkles set in.

However, it doesn’t seem
all that long ago.
At the time of the photos,
the world wasn’t full of stress.
There wasn’t so many idiots saying
don’t do this as its bad for your health.

The only thing I can see
that is really bad for your health,
is those idiots that keep saying,
don’t do this, don’t do that.
Maybe if they kept their gob shut,
we all might have a stress fee day.

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poem by David Harris
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