For A Very Special Lady Called Melvina
As we travel along our many different roads,
we meet people, sometimes face to face and sometimes not.
They influence us through their words,
and change us in someway.
This poem is written for one such person,
a very special person whose name
is none other than PH’s Melvina Germain.
I’ve often stated that it was through her poetry
that brought me here to PH.
On my arrival, I was very confused,
even poor Mel couldn't read
the mixed signals that I was giving.
However, as the weeks turned into months
her inspiration brought me to my senses,
and after a long absence, I began to write again,
stronger and wiser than before.
However that wasn’t the only thing she gave to me,
though I don’t think she ever realised.
She gave me a greater gift,
which was my faith in God back.
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poem by David Harris
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A Wing And A Prayer
I heard someone talking
about kids and what they wear.
They said they walk about these days
wearing nothing but a wing and a prayer.
I smiled to myself at that remark
because it was obviously they had forgot
about the clothes they used to wear.
So before we are quick to condemn
lets take a trip down memory lane,
back to the clothes we used to wear
when we were that age
and to the designs that were all the rage.
Suppose we go back to the sixties
now that was a good time,
the Mods and the Rockers,
scooters and motorbikes,
not to forget Flower Power.
Oh, yes I remember it well.
The drainpipe trousers,
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poem by David Harris
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Battle Of The Belly Bulge
You all had the adverts
that come through our email box
about fighting the battle of the bulge.
It’s not about the battle in World War 2
that they are talking about
it is the battle of the belly bulge.
The thing you get from eating
too much food or swilling too much beer.
It tends to send these things
to stick in just one place
and that is a little above the waist.
In some, the blubber wants to
hang over the edge
and then it seems you haven’t
got a waist at all.
They try to sell you miracle cures
that don’t work at all.
Go to the gym they say
the exercise will do the trick.
The problem there is that you
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poem by David Harris
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Sad Story 3 (A True Story)
In some lives tragedy lingers
like a low hanging dark cloud.
Take the life of a friend of mine.
A few years ago, he fell off his horse
and missed a lovely weekend away.
After months of recuperation
life started to build itself again.
Getting home one evening,
he found his partner not feeling well
and within a matter of hours, she was gone.
The weeks that followed
his world seem to be caving in.
First his job was to go
and then the flat he lived in.
Nothing seemed to be going right.
He met up with his ex-wife
because his daughter had become
a drug addict and an alcoholic.
Somehow, their love for one another
started to blossom again.
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poem by David Harris
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
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poem by David Harris
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A Baby With His Whiskers On (Fun Poem 115)
One day a gypsy came to the door
selling a sprig of heather.
Cross my palm with silver
and I’ll make your wish come true.
I gave some silver coins
and she gave me a green and purple pill.
“Take this last thing at night
and tomorrow your wish will be granted.”
I took her green and purple pill
just as she had instructed.
Next morning I awoke still with my whiskers on,
but my poor wife almost had fit
thinking she’d had a baby in the night.
The magic had changed me rapidly
and now I looked only three.
My wish had been to look younger,
it had come very true,
and the magic had turned me
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poem by David Harris
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Many Years Into Yesterday
On the banks of the Mississippi,
we fished for catfish
with a bent pin on a string.
We sat in ragged trousers
patched and tied at the waist with string.
We watched the paddle steamers gorged with passengers
waving as they passed our way.
In those summer days of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
With innocent eyes,
we watched the world turn.
Saw the sadness in our daddy’s eyes,
watched the sweat run over his ebony muscles,
and heard him cry in our mammy’s arms
when a day’s work was done.
We saw the boss man whip him
under a blazing sun.
Saw the scars on indignation across his back
and heard the mournful songs they sang
at the closing of the day
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poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Universal Life
You wake up in the morning
and put your hands behind your head
as another day awaits your eager mind,
but what job would you choose to find
butcher, baker or maybe a preacher
writing striking sermons
to the multitude it would be read
of the peaceful life that eludes
without their wars and faults.
Maybe not a preacher but a baker instead
baking pies, cakes and bread
wedding cakes, rolls and steak pies,
but even baking has its constant ties.
Back to the reality your in
maybe a lawyer you might have been
questioning the witnesses
that the prosecution has brought forward
to help beat your case.
No its back to the drawing board in your mind
to etch another job to find,
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poem by David Harris
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A Little Merman (Fun Poem 51)
Just beyond the reef
where the little fishes swim
there lives a little merman
and his name is Gunga Din.
He frolics in the ocean
from morning to night,
playing with the mermaids
is his hearts delight.
One day while playing
on the ocean floor
Gunga din found a bottle
with a Genie trapped within.
He opened the bottle
and set the Genie free.
The Genie then said to him.
“Three wishes I now grant to thee.”
“Three wishes? What are those? ”
Gunga Din asked the Genie.
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poem by David Harris
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A Little Turtle Called Muddle
There was a little turtle
and his name was Muddle
because at times he got confused
could not remember if he was
a tortoise or a turtle.
Had Muddle been brought up
in the wild
he would not have been confused,
but he was brought up in captivity
and now he was not sure what he was suppose to be.
Now Muddle lived a sheltered life.
He had no friends or playmates
to keep him company.
Then one day in his glass cage,
his owners put in someone new.
Now he had someone to talk to.
The newcomer stayed in his shell
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poem by David Harris
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