A Tramp On The Street
The snowflakes fell
like white feathers from heaven
leaving a white blanket on the ground.
He trudged through the lonely streets
with nowhere to go.
A tramp on the street
with only rags to cover his feet,
trying to find a place to sleep
and rest his weary bones.
He passed a frozen river,
it made his cold body shiver
for he could see a pair of hand raise up held
and hear a small voice as it yelled.
Without a moment hesitation,
though barely nothing on his feet
he started to walk
across the sharp iced water
even though the wind fiercely blew.
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poem by David Harris
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Early Works - My Dear Jill
My dear Jill
I’ve heard your ill,
I’d come down and see you
as I think highly of you.
Sadly, I went and caught a cold
and afraid my fate is sold.
I’ll not sign my name at the bottom
in case of a gain ill gotten.
With these flowers I send to you
comes my love and prayers too.
Though these flowers are pretty,
you could shame them with your beauty.
You probably know this, now you know whom
by the many pictures I have of you.
The romantic things you say to me
as I hold the hand of thee
showing just how much you care
and want my love to share.
The love I have for you is strong
and I’ll worry for you all night long.
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poem by David Harris
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Forty-One
The years have rolled away
one after the other,
but it is only like yesterday
when it all begun.
It was a Saturday in September,
I remember it so well
and I was as nervous as could be.
The sun was shining thankfully
and the big day had arrived.
My best man took me for a drive
miles away from where I should be.
I became a clock-watcher,
watching the minutes tick on by
and fearing all the time I’d be late.
My heart was beating franticly
as I watched the hands on my watch.
My best man seemed to drag it out.
However, would I get there on time?
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poem by David Harris
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Meaningless
Sometimes you do things for others
never realising what it does to you.
It feels as if you’re helping them
then realize what it has done to you.
You get lost along the way
withdrawing from the world
and no longer having anything to say.
Gone is that, that nurtured you
as you turn your back away.
Your world becomes a blank page
with just one word written on it
and that word is despair.
You no longer have anyone
to talk to and share your ideas.
You recede into apologies
for nothing that you’ve done.
The comfort zone you once had
is gone never to return.
You slip into boredom that you once knew.
Your life is filled with images,
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poem by David Harris
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 1)
They took the cotton gauze away
from his closed eyes.
“You can open them now Mr D.”
He opened his eyes to see hazy figures there,
black and grey images, and nothing more.
A gentle and kind voice, asked him what he saw.
“Hazy images>“He replied.
“It will be like that for a little while,
and then they will begin to clear.”
Each day his sight got better, the
haze began to clear.
Then the colour came,
and a rainbow spectrum appeared before his eyes,
of things he could never see.
A light shone through his life,
of things he had never known.
A new awakening
with images to fit the sounds.
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poem by David Harris
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Weighing Heavily On Your Mind
You know the days when you feel that your life is slipping through your fingers, and there is nothing you can do. It is one of those days today. It is weighing on my mind whether to stay or go. You feel like giving up the job, your hobbies, the lot, just turn your back and start a new somewhere else.
The problem is, what about your friends, what will they think? They’d probably want the best for you, but they would not want you to go. However sometimes its for the best, to go away and start a new life somewhere. Just say goodbyes and then just go. Disappear to who knows where, try not to shed a tear too much, nor regret what you are about to do. Just put the old life away on a shelf, try and tell yourself it didn’t exist at all.
Oh, I wish it was that easy. Memories of places and faces of friends would still be there at the back of my mind. They don’t disappear that easily I have found. I think to myself, I’ve done this before, it will only be the closing of just another door, another chapter on my life. Maybe sometime in the future another door will open, and behind it I will find some old friends. Who knows what the score will be. As for right now a decision has to be made. Still I am pondering what I am going to do. I might just leave that decision for a day or two.
Who knows someone of something might make me change my mind. But whatever I decide there is one thing I know. I think whatever I decide it will be a bit of a struggle inside.
poem by David Harris
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American Civil War Chronicles 1
This series is dedicated to my friend Frank James Ryan Jr
Author’s Note.
If it had not been for Frank suggesting to diversify, this series might never have come into being. It was while thinking of what he said that the idea of writing about the American Civil War of 1861 to 1865 came into my mind. I plan to chart the Civil War in poem from its beginning to its eventual end. I will try to be as accurate as I can with my words and order of events.
DVH
BEGINNINGS BEFORE SHOTS WERE FIRED
Wars are only started
when diplomacy fails to win.
So it was in 1859
two years before the civil war began.
Neither side wanted to give an inch,
though the South was easing their stance,
and if the talking went on for another year,
the bloodshed might have been
averted completely.
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poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Tooter
For Maurice Callard
The Great Gatsby in his forte
from the old man’s tears
to a group twinkling in the garden.
Alas, this is not my exercise,
I am supposing to big head the tooter.
I am supposing to what?
Oh yes, what he represents to me.
Well, let me see
a fellow author, a good-looking fellow.
Yes, I would agree with these.
Now what about his bad points?
You say he hasn’t any.
Well just one or two.
What are they you ask?
You cannot think of any at the moment.
Well, never mind we’ll discuss the good points in some depth.
A fellow author.
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poem by David Harris
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North Atlantic Sea
The North Atlantic Sea raged bitter cold
as a convoy of ships sailed swiftly as could be.
A wolf pack of submarines
were waiting somewhere
beneath the cold waters there.
Everyone scanned the icy waters
for some tell tale sign
as the merchant navy steamed on.
A destroyer was their bodyguard
in case trouble flared.
The sky’s clouds were grey
and filled with snow and followed them
into the eastern horizon.
Suddenly an enormous explosion
lit up the sky.
A U-boat had hit a target
and many brave men
were heading for a watery grave.
The destroyer raced towards the stricken ship
as another explosion rocked the sea.
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poem by David Harris
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My Best Friends
For JoAnn and Meggie
There are two young ladies
I think of as my best friends.
If ever I have a problem
that was eating away at me
I could go to either of them
and they would comfort me.
I’d do the same for them
at anytime night or day.
Not only are they my best friends,
they are my writing partners in poetry
when we write under
JoJo Bean, Dodgy Dave and Meggie Gultiano.
Although we have never met
as each of us live thousands of miles away,
they are still my best friends.
Some may never understand
why I say that at all,
they may even argue that statement
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poem by David Harris
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