Eyes Of Mr D (Part 5)
Mr D took off his glasses,
and raised his white cane.
He struck the dark figure,
hard with the crook of the handle
in the middle of the back.
The dark figure bends backwards
revealing his mask of death.
Quickly he recovered and twisted around.
He went to strike out at Mr D,
who hooked the white cane
around one leg and pulled.
The dark figure with the mask of death
fell upon the ground.
He pulled a blade from his pocket
that glinted under the moonlight.
Mr D used the cane again
to knock the blade from his hand
into the dark waters of the lake.
The sound of sirens and blue lights filled the air.
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poem by David Harris
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A Girl From Nowhere
The electric blue of a lightning sky
lit up the country lane momentarily.
She walked alone
with her scarf blowing in the wind
and her clothes soaked from the light rain.
But who was she and where was she?
She did not know.
Her eyes scanned everything
looking for something she recognised.
There was nothing there and she kept walking.
A crack of thunder startled her.
She jumped and looked around.
Lights of a car lit up the hedgerows
as it raced towards her.
She moved to one side
to allow it to pass.
The driver braked abruptly
along side of her.
The passenger window
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poem by David Harris
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For Suzy With Love
For Suzanne
This is a true account of what happen to me in 2006 and 2007.
In 1958, there was a girl in my class at school.
Who would many; many years later turn my life around.
We didn’t talk much socially at school;
in fact, we were virtually strangers.
Yet here we are living thousands of miles away
from each other now and we are very good friends.
She found me adrift on the internet one day in December 2006.
At first, I didn’t recognise her name,
but when I saw an old school photograph,
I recognised her straight away.
Many happy memories were soon to fill my head.
We got talking through emails
telling how much each of our lives had changed.
It was through these exchanges
she would turn my life around.
She introduced me to a friend of hers in a roundabout way.
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poem by David Harris
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It Comes - Part 3
(It is suggested that the reader reads Parts 1 and 2 first)
Several marine biologists
now suggested that a giant squid
could be the creature that they were looking for,
but could not explain the blue light.
As a precaution to the present dangers below the equator,
ships were requested that they find suitable ports
to stay in overnight.
Naval Air forces from most countries
searched the seas at night and day
hoping to spot whatever was causing the disappearances.
Dr Roger Maitland of Oxford,
marine biologist now retired
studied the reports on the news.
He looked at charts
and read what the survivor of the Sulu Spray
had mumbled incoherently repeatedly.
He had his own theory about the creature,
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poem by David Harris
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 4)
All eyes turned towards the back
as the bride made her entrance.
Six small bluebirds held
up her long flowing train
as she moved down the centre isle
towards her husband to be.
Standing side by side,
they took their weddings vows
and when they were pronounced,
man and wife a great cheer rang out
that could be heard across the land.
They rode back through the throngs
of well-wishers who lined the route.
Everywhere everyone was smiling
for the happy couple.
It was a joyous occasion
celebrated by everyone
and all the creatures everywhere.
Arriving back at the castle
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poem by David Harris
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A Year of Anniversaries
This year is a year of anniversaries,
and I remember where I was,
and what I was doing on each of them,
when the news came through.
The death of two famous people
who had an effect on our lives
and a diabolical act of terrorism
one could never forget.
That stunned nations around the world.
Thirty years ago,
the world was stunned by the passing of a king.
The king of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley.
Although his voice was silenced
on a bathroom floor,
he left with us all a legacy
of his music that will live eternally.
Ten years ago the world lost a Princess
in a car crash in Paris.
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poem by David Harris
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How I Became Known As Dodgy Dave
From time to time people ask me
how I got the name Dodgy Dave
and why I take no offence at it.
The story starts about six or seven years ago
when I joined a Western Re-Enactment Society.
I went to help build a western town
that eventually became know as Deadwood.
As the date for near completion came
the only building left to be finished was the Church.
The original builders had left it only half built.
The owner of the farm
on which the town is built
wanted it finished for our grand opening day.
Someone suggested that because of all the help,
I had given, why I don’t take it on
and they would help me finish it,
but I needed a town name
that would go along with the building,
I thought for a moment and then said
what about Reverend Mr Black
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poem by David Harris
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Have The Crackpots United
Watching the news and I had to shake my head,
a featherbrained crackpot stood there,
they want to a ban a forty odd year old advert
about going to work on an egg,
They stood there saying, “We are not stating
that eggs are bad for you, they are actually quite good.
However you shouldn’t eat eggs every day.”
What a cockeyed statement to make.
They then carry on and say, we should eat other foods.
However, other featherbrains have told us other foods are no good.
Now what do the featherbrained crackpots say about drink?
Coffee and tea does you no good,
soft drinks are too gassy,
a must to say away,
beer and spirits are another no no.
Bottled water that might be Ok,
until someone contaminates
it all of it some day.
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poem by David Harris
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As I Sat On My Hospital Bed
As I sat on my hospital bed, many things went around in my head. They had told me that I had suffered several mini strokes. They were not real strokes, but just enough to make me alter some things in my lifestyle. I couldn’t drive my car for at least a month or more. That wasn’t going to be a great loss. I was going to be off work for a couple of weeks or more. That would give me time to relax.
My diet was going to have to change, which was any thing that big. I had to eat less fatty foods and more vegetables. I could on occasions treat myself, but treating myself didn’t mean everyday. When it came to cream and sweet cakes, they did not really bother me.
The biggest crunch and my biggest crime is that I smoke, that would have to go. They realise that it won’t be easy going, I agree with that, but when I think of all the things I’ve got, family, friends and everything. The chances of losing all of them in one gigantic swoop. The smoking can go if it will help. It won’t be any great loss. It may not be easy for me to do it.. The support for me to do it will be there from my family and friends. Let’s hope my will power will stand the test of time.
This has been a warning sign, and believe me I’m taking heed. You only get one chance at life, and you have to give it all you’ve got. If you see a danger in front of you, you eradicate it and carry on. So here, I am sitting on my hospital bed, with all these things buzzing around my head. I am listening to every word said now. Life is too precious to me, to want to throw it all away. Therefore, when I leave the hospital, a new life will beckon that day.
5 October 2007
PS
To all my friends up here a PH. If you don’t find my name appearing in the comments of your poems over the next few weeks. Don’t think I’ve deserted you. I’m not ignoring you, but I’ve been ordered to take a total rest. Therefore, I’m following the doctors orders and resting big time along with getting lots and lots of fresh air. So until near the end of the month when hopefully I will be fit and well enough to come back again. I will simply say Good Luck and God Bless to everyone. I am going to miss you all my friends.
DVH
poem by David Harris
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Sargasso Sea
I stand on the deck of my ship
stranded in uncharted seas
wondering where the west wind
will be carrying me.
Will it be to some treasure island,
but from the dark clouds forming
will it be to some distant doom,
or will be to the Sargasso Sea.
The sea of weed unmapped
where many good ships and men
from have failed to homeward sail.
The wind is bellowing my sails
as my wooden ship begins to creak.
Oh how I long for sight of land
and a way back home.
Each wave smacks again the hull
with a dragon’s roar.
My ship reels roughly in the waters
as lightning crackles above my head.
The sky is now as black as pitch
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poem by David Harris
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