Take Your Time
Take your time, your dreams have not altered;
Take your time, to address what faltered
That caused you to let go of these aspirations;
Soon, you will discover many illusions
Were played by your then-afeared mind,
And that you would do well to leave them behind.
Trust in yourself, it will all come back into focus-
It is the natural order of things, not some hocus-pocus,
Merely the way that your life is supposed to be.
Gradually, you shall see again, as you were supposed to see-
Not clouded by undue fright and irrationality,
And that time is the best anti-dote for this failure's causality.
Time heals all, including a fear made very real
By confabulation, that caused you to feel
That there must be something to the impediment
That you placed in the way of your dreams and their embodiment.
Take your time, analyze it every step of the way;
Take your time, think for a moment, of the day
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poem by Maurice Harris
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A Father's Prayerful 'Conversation' With His Daughters
I wonder: do you yet know the power and import of prayer?
I ponder upon this, as surely you long too, for my presence there!
I miss thee as no means of word may properly expound;
The depths of my heart's lamentation is truly profound!
Upon that wretched day, lo so long ago, it was ripped to shred,
Each new day whereupon I lack thee, is a day I do dread!
Those that have sighted thee, tell me of your grace and lightness,
This is little consolation, I yearn still witness of your ladylikeness!
Nary a moment does pass whence thoughts of thee are not near,
Daddy is fighting for both of us-of this have not, any fear!
My return to thee is written by Him, it is all of which I ruminate;
What hath been imposed upon us is loathsome, this does obviate!
He said unto me: 'My child, much pain I have brought to bear
To assure you, the import of the child for which you shall again care;
For she is the most obvious form of the love I have for thee;
Nary is there to draw compare to the fidelity of thine own-she
Too, for thee, though comprehension full escapes her yet,
She doth pray for same, and has, since last you each met!
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poem by Maurice Harris
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Love, In Spite Of Fear
I can love you in many ways and with much ardor,
But if you are too afraid to love me, it makes it that much harder;
With my love, I wish you the courage to love me, in spite of your fear-
With my love, I can pretend, in spite of miles, that you're near-
As near as my heart, always within arm's reach,
So that I may keep you safe-out of harm's reach!
It is entirely up to you whether to love me in return,
I do suspect, however, that you could very well learn,
If you listen to what your heart has told you;
Let the truth that only it may gift, mold you
And your actions, in spite of all your trepidation-
Embrace its presence, without a moment's hesitation.
Ask yourself: 'does this love meet all of my needs? ';
If so, follow this path wherever your heart leads,
No matter of fear, irrespective of impediment-
Love knows naught, but its own adorement!
Do not accept what I offer, because I offer it,
But do not give liberty to your heart, then coffer it
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poem by Maurice Harris
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She Is My Heavenly Proffer
Perhaps once in thine own life, if truly fortuitous,
Ye shall gain privity to a beauty, as I, whose glorious
Resplendence shines-as a beacon, through all my hours-
A beauty so rarified it doth astound and overpowers
The senses at times! Though she doth dwell many a mile
From whence I am, still, I am greeted at all times-by her smile!
Should my life's flame be doused, right here and now,
I shan't have cause to aspire further-as this I avow:
I have glimpsed Heaven-in her eyes, it doth reside-
Not to speak slight of the Empyrean Kingdom, nor deride;
I have seen her truth, and simply must, to it, attest;
She is cause for me to know, I am most and truly blessed!
No matter of love or affection shall serve to suffice-no, not nearly;
Nothing shall ever be proper grace for the one I love most dearly!
My life until now hath been wanton of a love worthy of what I have to offer-
No longer need I search for same, obligation owed to God's greatest proffer!
Our consort was a divine providence, of this, you may be assured;
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poem by Maurice Harris
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All I Ask Of Thee (A Pact With God)
A fate worse than death-that's what this has been to me;
When, I wonder, will I begin to see
The fruits of both my faith and its persistence? !
Ironically, tragedy taught me strength-its insistence
That only those who possess it shall prevail;
When I have needed same, it has been there, without fail-
Trust me, I have needed much, to be drawn,
Just to get to the next day, when I thought all hope was gone.
'That which does not kill you, makes you stronger'-
Indeed, yet, how very much longer
May I depend upon my strength and fortitude! ?
When will faith and a positive attitude
Be enough to overcome nepotism and deceit-
Enough to bring about iniquity's inglorious defeat! ?
Was my death a means to foreshadow, or a new beginning-
Was this a means to mark the day, when I start winning?
The reason is not very clear to me,
It's a enigmatice miracle that I am still here, to be
A voice for those unable to speak, -
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poem by Maurice Harris
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Let Only Love Avail
I never had a chance to thank you for what adoration
You did show me, because I was too busy with sorow
For how it was that you chose to leave, which belied the devotion
That you professed; I never thought it would all be gone 'tomorrow',
Nor did I believe you would choose to punish me for my honesty.
If I could only share with you my faith of heart and strength of mind,
I know that you could find the requisite strength, in kind,
To allow us a new beginning, where we could leave the past behind,
Where it truly belongs, instead of carrying that travesty
Into the present, and with you as you ponder what may be.
I chose to leave it behind me, and I hope you will too.
'What is past is prologue'* surely, but if I only knew
What your reaction would have been to my unbridled honesty,
I may have had to make part with your company on my own,
Because then, I most assuredly would have known
That, while I proffered only verity, you lived a lie.
I learned so much from my travails, but may never know why
Someone with such a capacity for both love and aspiration,
Would choose to kill all she wants for herself-over fallacy!
What a shameful ruse of gross self-inconsideracy
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poem by Maurice Harris
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This Father's Heart (Ode to Abigail and Gabriella Harris)
I oft ponder what it will be like, when
You and I finally meet again;
Only in photographs have I seen you grow,
Only what I remember of you do I truly know-
You are both a beautiful, yet enigmatic mystery!
We share so much, but hardly a history-
I may only see you now when I dream,
Or perhaps, when I ruminate under the Moon's beam
Of how different my life would now be,
How much more beauty I would now see-
If only I were so fortuitous, indeed, so blessed
As to still have you in my life- I have obsessed
About how to affect the same for many days,
Yet, I have hit dead ends in so many ways!
So long as, in my body, there is breath-
So long as I remain on 'this' side of death,
I shall never cease, nor surely forfeit;
This Father's heart will not allow that I forget
That no matter where you may now be,
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poem by Maurice Harris
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Citius, Altius, Fortius
The audience has gathered, the stage is set-
Now is the time to see if your expectations are met
With victory as the only acceptable outcome:
You came in search of a gold medal and will not leave without one.
You test yourself against the very best in the world,
In hopes that when all is said and done, Old Glory is unfurled.
As the event unfolds, the battle for supremacy
Causes you to question your training's efficacy
For a brief moment, until you dig deeper than ever before.
The pain builds in your body-but, you must ignore
It until you achieve your Olympic dream;
You have done it-above all others, you reigned supreme!
The Stars and Stripes shall wave highest, to mark this achievement.
While all others are consoled, in their moments of bereavement,
You revel in your goal's fruition: to be the very best.
You trained for many years and excelled at every test
Along the way, in preparation for this moment in time.
The road has not been easy, and long has been the climb,
Yet, on this day your feat is unmatched and your nation is proud.
You represented us with honor and courage and our cheers are loud.
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poem by Maurice Harris
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God Spoke To Me Today
God spoke to me today, and said:
'Perhaps you wonder My Child, why you were once dead:
Upon the day where I caused that you died,
I wanted to impart to you, the import of Pride,
And ensure you and the world, entire
Knew, in no uncertain terms, it has always been My Desire
To use you, one of My Most Belov'd,
To show all around you-in all ways-Love;
All that you were lacking at the time of your death,
Right up to the point where you took your erstwhile last breath-
Was enough Humility to properly prepare for your Path;
Now, Beloved Child of Mine, thou hath
All that is needed, to share your Gift with the world-
Now, YOUR Most Beloved, may come to see all that I Unfurled,
For you both, as a Most Favored Couple;
I know Child, the Path has been less than subtle,
Yet, henceforth, the Path I have Divined
Will be shown to all, and you and She will be Combined
For all Eternity-first on Earth, then with Me;
You may inquire: 'Father, how may this be? '-
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poem by Maurice Harris
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The Only Father I Have Really Ever Known
You never stood up and told the truth, you never even tried-
You simply took so much from those around you, and simply died-
Without contrition or even shame for all that you had done to so many-
Instead, I was left to carry guilt for a Father that did not have any.
The simple fact that you helped to procreate me, seemed to suffice,
As reason for the deceit and bias of many, the iniquitous price
That I was asked to pay, simply for who my Father was,
When I am no more responsible, for what my Father does,
Than those that you victimized before your untimely demise.
This is a most prescient fact that some do not stop to realize:
I was just a little boy then, yet became privy to your maleficence
As a man of 36, when my love for you became abhorrence;
When the man I knew as my Father died once again,
Where the sorrow for a Father lost, became the bain
Of my very existence-the thought that I mourned you
And the loss that I felt, when I was never warned, you
Were a monster-a fact that I should have known-
Instead, I held on to your memory, where I could have grown-
To distance myself from who I believed you to be,
To grow as a man, for all the world to see,
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poem by Maurice Harris
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