David Harris, 15 november 2011
A wind from the North Country
blows through the tapestry of my mind.
Like flowers in the wind,
I sway like a silver birch.
Winging high I soar though the sky,
a bird of tell tale feather below.
Ah, a rose with a tinted past
a tear of dew on each new petal.
Shadow of sky I see
a big yellow eye that warns me
Spring has fallen by the way side
Summer warms each small bed
sleep eluded the dreamers head
days hark of summer sandwich paste
eaten down in gulps of haste
gone are the winter winds
replaced by summers warm rays.
Ah, our rose with a tinted past
born out of a refuse tip,
born with buds pointing skyward high
to catch the sun through a cloudy sky.
Born with an anojistic air
the dark clouds of heaven see you there.
Rain dances on your petals blight.
Sky thunder roars
storm of shadows pass overhead
wind of tears, tears and shreds,
the petals from our roses head.
Sky of blue, no clouds of night
looks down at the sorry sight,
head limp, beauty gone
sadness of glory light
no longer see the sunlight.
Petals sweet, insect head
food for nature’s bed.
Earth dust shower still
life is short to fulfil
day - night passes a solemn breath
for our tinted rose’s death.
13 June 1978
David Harris, 13 november 2011
The fragrant days of summer have disappeared
giving way to the chilly winds of autumn
that strips away the green coats from trees
leaving them bare and barren
before Jack Frost fills the morning air.
Collars hug closely around necks
as the cold white down fall from the sky,
to lay a pale blanket on the ground
that hides some of the unsightly sights and sounds.
Fires burn with radiant glow
as out faced hands try too capture its warmth.
Soon another season will once more awake.
The barren will breathe new life once more
and the colours will return unleashed,
as the circle of the seasons
will begin all over again.
12 November 2011
David Harris, 10 november 2011
In a hundred years from now
when we are not around,
I wonder if we’ll be remembered
for the tracks we leave behind,
our legacy for our short time here.
Will our meagre efforts
be rewarded with immortal fame
or will they be extinguished
like the candles flame?
We can only live in hope.
One day in the distant future
will a student over our work ponder
of how our life was reflected
in the tracks we leave behind
and the confusion we sometimes feel.
Let’s hope that future student
sees all our love within
the words we carefully chose
to represent our life
in the tracks we leave behind.
10 November 2011
David Harris, 9 november 2011
Standing here on the brighter side of life,
I realize missing out on the things I loved.
Walking down the shady lovers lanes
as the clouds moved across the moon.
I’ve seen the glamour and glitz of life
and long for the simple things of yesterday
when we walked arm in arm together
as the clouds moved across the moon.
Tomorrow is another day in the spotlight
regretting for another time again
of giving up all those yesterdays
as the clouds moved across the moon.
It’s hard to try not to regret
all the things you rushed forward to
even though at the time it meant losing you
as the clouds moved across the moon.
One day I may return home again,
when my dreams have turned to dust
then I may walk again with you
as the clouds move across the moon.
6 November 2011
David Harris, 9 november 2011
I wonder where I am going
for I know where I have been.
I wonder which new roads
I will have travel down
before I get back here again.
My life is such a mystery
from dawn to dusk,
and I wonder if ever
I will find the place
where I will truly belong.
I am a traveller of the roads
never calling anywhere my home,
but I keep looking for
the right heart on the right road
and a place to call home.
5 November 2011
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