The Hogarth Experiment Part 3
Police Constable Broadworth
was sent from the station
to go to see if he could locate Joe Harper
after a frantic phone call from his surgery.
It would seem as if he had missed
several of his appointments,
which was not like Joe at all.
He cycled down the same lane
where Joe Harper’s car was parked.
He could hear his car still running.
The scene that greeted him
was not he had expected.
The car was in the lane,
but Joe Harper was no where about.
Broadworth shouted out his name,
but got no reply.
Broadworth dismounted from his bike.
He felt it strange that Jo Harper
would have left his car running.
Broadworth searched the area
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poem by David Harris
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Jolly Old England
Do as you please we don’t care at all
you are under age
and we have you protected by the law.
You can steal, injure, maim or kill
we’ll let you do it because you are under age
and don’t know any better.
No one can touch you
or we’ll have them in court
as we have you protected
by the law of human rights.
Go do, as you please show no respect
you are under age and do not know any better.
If you kill someone we might have to put you under
Her Majesty’s Pleasure,
but don’t worry,
pass a couple of exams,
we’ll give you a new identity
and then we’ll set you free
as you were under age
and didn’t know what you were doing.
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poem by David Harris
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Commenting (Please Read)
This poem is dedicated to a very dear friend in Canada.
Melvina Germain.
The first person who left a heart prints on my work almost a year and a half ago. Mel, a million thanks from me.
Love and Hugs.
David xxxx
Some people read your work
and then pass on their way,
never leaving a comment
whether they liked it or not.
For any writer good or bad,
unless someone makes a comment on your work,
you feel left out in the cold.
For those who think that comments do not help,
let me tell you what comments have done for me.
For six or seven years I had given up writing,
I swore I would never lift my pen again.
Then in January 2007,
I posted a few old poems on a poetry site.
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poem by David Harris
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Strange But True 1 - The Burning House
There were four of us in the garden,
which overlooked a valley below.
The sunset was moving across the sky,
as the songs of twilight could be heard,
then a siren made us look around.
There below us within a grove of trees,
a spiral of smoke rose to meet the sky.
The house within the grove was burning fiercely;
its glow could be seen by us on higher ground,
but not by those on the lower ground.
We sat and watch in fascination
as there was little we could do.
Because the house was well hidden from the road,
the fire department missed it too.
Eventually when they reached the house, t
he occupants had perished in the flames.
Therefore, begins the story
I have never been able to explain.
A year went by and the charred ruins remained.
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poem by David Harris
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And You Don’t Remember Me
I sat on the park bench
pen and notebook in hand.
I watched all the people
as they passed on by.
I wondered how in life
each one of them had fared
with their happiness
and their sorrows.
I looked for inspiration
for something to write.
She looked at me and smiled,
I smiled back
thinking that was that.
“You don’t remember me? ”
She said and sat down.
I looked at her again
as memories swirled
around in my mind.
She was right
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poem by David Harris
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Such Is Life
When it comes to women
my life has never been that well.
I used to advertise myself
and on my tee shirt wrote.
(Front) Help me please.
(Back) Take me home I
make a good bed warmer.
Sadly, no takers came forward
and I wondered why
after all I was always good
at making a hot water bottle.
Such if life I guess.
Then I thought if you got it, flaunt it
and the police could not stop laughing
when they arrested me,
but they still gave me six months
for my try.
Finally, I managed to take a girl home with me,
but the parrot escaped and landed in her lap.
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poem by David Harris
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Second Chance
Sometimes you never get a second chance
at anything you do.
If one day you do, embrace it
and never let it slip through your fingers
or it will never come to you again.
Now this is my story of the two second chances that I got
and how I embraced them without regret.
The story begins half a century ago when I was a teenager.
I was a very shy boy
and my friends were very few,
especially where the girls were concerned.
No friendships grew there
and all too soon they were gone
without me ever saying a word to them
as I left and set sail for a far distant shore.
Their faces remained with me
through the years in photographs.
The years slipped by so quickly
from teenager to adult hood,
but still those photographs
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poem by David Harris
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Alien, Poor Alien
Introduction:
For centuries now Aliens have visited Earth we assume to study our culture. Then way back in 1958, Sheb Wooley in America told us about a strange little Alien who came to earth to join our culture and play Rock and Roll. His name was the Purple People Eater. His story was continued by J P Richardson (The Big Bopper) in Purple People Eater Meets The Witch Doctor. It seemed now that the Aliens were getting into the swing of things. Of course, that didn’t last long and they went back to observing us. Trawling through some of my lost files the other day I found that the purple guy wasn’t the only one who wanted to play Rock and Roll. There was another one who will remain nameless for contract reasons and latent sex appeal, and this is his story I am about to recount. He visited us in the late 1970’s.
David Harris - 13 September 2009
There stands the ragged troubadour
dusty guitar in his hands
serenading the crowd
gathering around the hot dog van.
He persists between the jeers, yells
and insults thrown at him.
Then he tried to pass the plate
only to have it tossed back again.
Next he tried the cinema queue
the taxman had hit them hard;
serenading wasn’t easy
to a group from the Palace guard.
Their bayonets were at the ready
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poem by David Harris
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Uneventful Life
We all say at times we live uneventful lives
and I am no exception to that rule.
However, looking back
at the uneventful events in my life
I see my life might not be as uneventful as I thought.
At thirteen
I won an inter-school competition
for a painting that I did
and had, it exhibited
at the Royal Canadian National Exhibition.
Up until I was seventeen,
I never wanted to drive a car.
The thought of doing so
terrified me completely,
then one night while out with some friends
we were involved in a head-on car crash.
In the weeks that followed, I learned to drive.
At eighteen
I took up writing after saying to a friend,
“If they can do it why can’t we? ”
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poem by David Harris
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A Self-Estimate
My life has been built around
self-doubt of who I am
with insecurity and vulnerability.
To many that might seem strange
and to others it might seem I have it all.
A lasting marriage,
fulfilling my dreams one at a time,
friends around the world.
You ask what else
could anyone really want.
When I was young
whatever I did
my sister or someone else
could always do it better
even when I succeeded,
at least that is what I was always told.
Those words brought forth
all sorts of insecurities
that plagued my life from those days to this.
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poem by David Harris
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