Golden Waves (The Aftermath)
As she walked away into the night
and left me standing alone,
it seemed an eternity before I could move.
I watched her silhouette
grow smaller and smaller
until it disappeared out of sight.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
What was I to do?
In the days that passed,
the newspapers were filled with stories
of whom the world would
eventually call the fab four.
Their music echoed out from everywhere
as their coming had begun.
A dark cloud still hung low over me.
Working in the same place,
I often caught a glimpse of her
from time to time.
There was never any explanation
for her words that night.
As the weeks passed
I occasionally walked alone
along the shore
where we had walked together,
listening to the incoming tide roar.
One day while reading a paper
I turned to a friend and said,
“If they can do it why can’t we? ”
Meaning write songs like Lennon and McCartney,
and so began a love affair
that has lasted almost half a century.
I may never have got rich in money
like John and Paul did,
nor have women chase after me.
It did however give me one thing,
a reason to carry on.
10 March 2009
Authors Note:
In Golden Waves I described how my first real girlfriend got rid of me. This has continued the story to where I first started writing in 1963. The results of this love affair to date is 1307 songs and lyrics,1780 poems,164 short stories,31 novels,7 essays and 3 plays.
DVH
poem by David Harris
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Summer Of ‘63
Everyone will have a year
that they will never forget,
for some reason or other.
Mine is 1963
and the summer of that year.
The year started normal,
but before it was over
my life would change.
Something would possess me
and never entirely go away.
I was eighteen at the time,
no steady girlfriend to call mine.
Then one day with my wages, she came.
I smiled and for some reason,
I wanted to go out with her.
A few weeks later, I got the chance.
I bucked up enough courage to ask her out.
So then, it started my first big romance.
Her name was Joyce Knapp,
but she liked to be called Joy, I remember that.
From June to September,
our romance grew strong.
Then one day it was over as sudden as it began,
with her immortal words one night.
I love you, but I don’t want to hurt you
so I’m packing you up.
We parted; a lot of tears filled my eyes.
She said we could see each other,
but I said I’d rather not.
Just one clean break
and tell everyone we were through.
So off I wandered broken hearted,
looking for someone to ease the pain.
It wasn’t a someone that did it for me,
rather a something you see.
A turning point in my life.
In 1963, the Beatles were all the rave;
everyone wanted a link,
to associate themselves with them.
I had my link in my birthday June 18th.
It is the same birthday as Paul McCartney.
The year maybe different, but never mine,
we share the same month and day.
So I said to a friend of mine at the time Ian Freeman,
why don’t we write a song together.
I know a little about music.
A date and a time was made
and we’d meet at my house.
We were going to write, a number one best seller,
but what came out would make glass break.
A much dreaded Shake Little Baby, Shake.
It never got further than the lyric stage,
a right little stinker to ever grace a page.
We went on to write another would you believe,
called Little Wandering Girl.
I think she is wandering still.
Ian had had enough and I didn’t blame him,
but I soldiered on through songs,
short stories, novels and poems,
to where I am now.
So now, you see how it started for me.
A long time ago in the summer of ‘63.
I have only one regret you see.
I never got a chance to thank,
Joy and Ian as I lost contact with them.
I hope they may read this one day, and contact me
so I can thank them properly.
20 July 2007
poem by David Harris
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A Mistake I Made
There is a question I ask myself repeatedly.
Why did I become who I am today,
a writer of songs, poems, short stories and novels?
In reality, I do not know, but I tell everyone who asks
it was simply a mistake I made.
Many will say I had it in me,
that I was born to do it.
Remembering how it started
I am not so sure of that.
It started with the words to a friend
if they can do it why can't we.
Now almost fifty years have passed
from that fateful day I picked up the pen.
If asked what I have achieved
in all that time of writing.
I would answer there is plenty,
but none of it is money.
My rewards for my writing
is bringing a smile to someone's face
someone whom I might never see.
The inspiration I have passed on to others,
but the best of all to me are the numerous friends
I have gathered from around the world.
poem by David Harris
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We Walked Together In The Night
We walked together in the night
Hand in hand, intertwined
It was like a magical dream
I just couldn't believe
We walked together in the night
My heart raced on as if I might die
You calmed me down and told me everything would be alright
We walked together in the night
Just you and I
You held my hand, you held me close
You protected me, and kept me safe
We walked together in the night
That night was the best time of my life
Time I spent with you
We walked together in the night
We're just best friends....
But does this date mean anything?
We walked together in the night
We laughed, We played
We were nervous, We were afraid
What might happen after this night?
We walked together in the night
You took me out to the movies
You took me back to my house
Everything was perfect then
Until I ruined it...
I walked away with tears in my eyes.....I ruined it
I walked back home alone that night...because we weren't ready to date just yet
poem by Starrbox Munoz
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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Dear Friend
i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,
i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests
and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence
as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)
there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,
please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:
write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Write The Songs
Ive been alive forever,
And I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
And I write the songs.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special thing s.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs.
My home lies deep within you,
And Ive got my own place in your sole.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
Im youg again, even though Im very old.
Chorus
Oh my music makes you dance
And gives your spirit to take a chance,
And I wrote some rock n roll so you can move.
Music fills your heart,
Well, thats a real fine place to start.
Its from me its for you,
Its from you, its from me,
Its a world wide symphony.
Chorus
I am music, and I write the songs.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Down In Time
In the quiet silent seconds
I turned off the light switch
And I came down to meet you
In the half light the moon left
While a cluster of night jars
Sang some songs out of tune
A mantle of bright light s
Shone down from a room
Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way
Well I don't know if I should have heard her as yet
But a true love like hers is a hard love to get
And I've walked most all the way and I ain't heard her call
And I'm getting to thinking if she's coming at all
Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way
There are women and women and some hold you tight
While some leave you counting the stars in the night
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love
Time goes by, I know
That I'm learnin'
Love, It lies
No wonder I'm hurtin'
I can see the lies all over your face
Only hope that time can help erase
The pain, the tears
That I'm cryin'
I can see in your eyes
Your love is dyin'
I should've know that you lied when you said to believe
That you'd love me enough that you'd never leave
But you just turned and walked away
You left me standing in the rain
You didn't take my love for real
Now how am I to feel
Love comes in and goes out
Like a season
You came in and walked out
For no reason
Do you really know what love is about
You really had me thinkin' there wan't a doubt
That you would love me forever
You wanted me to know
That I had to love you now or never
But then you let me go
song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Walks Love Again
(robert palmer)
We asked all our friends
Where would this desire lead?
Spoke to each others hearts
Willed it not to be a dream
What would it take
But two in tune imaginations?
It was too late to pretend it wasnt real
When in walked love again
Cooler than youve ever seen
In walked love again
Showing us how it should be
We were sure, this time
That we knew where one another stood
Love runs its own course
Too late to change it
If we could
Still questions came
Now we were faced with trusting danger
We caught the blame
Could we let each other go?
When in walked love again
Smiling like a lover can
In walked love again
There you are and here I am
In walked love again
My woman said: can you take it?
I said to her: we can make it, yeah
In walked love again
Cooler than youve ever seen
In walked love again
Showin us how it should be
In walked love again
Smilin like a lover can
In walked love again
There you are and here I am
In walked love again
Walkin again
In walked love again
Walkin again
In walked love again
Chasin after you and me
In walked love again
Braver than our wildest dreams
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Down In Time
In the quiet silent seconds I turned off the light switch
And I came down to meet you in the half light the moon left
While a cluster of night jars sang some songs out of tune
A mantle of bright light shone down from a room
Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way
Well I don't know if I should have hear her as yet
But a true love like hers is a hard love to get
And I've walked most all the way and I ain't heard her call
And I'm getting to thinking if she's coming at all
Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way
There are women and women
song performed by by Elton John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Write
People often ask me why do I write,
unfortunately I have no answer.
I started when I was eighteen
when my then girlfriend
said we were through.
I said to myself
if the Beatles can do it why not try it.
I was lonely with nothing else better to do
and it all progressed from there.
The more I wrote the better I got
and now I don’t even think about it
as the ideas just come to me
and I write them down quickly before they pass.
When I started, my parents said
it was just a passing phase,
but here almost half a century has gone by
and that seems like some long passing phase.
Of course as I progressed, I experimented
with poetry, short stories and novels,
now my back library seems endless
and still I write more and more
jumping from one subject to another.
If I knew why I do it,
I’d bottle it and sell it
probably making a fortune on the way.
Sadly, the answer eludes me,
all I know is, I just sit with pen in hand
and the words come automatically
with line following line until I am through
no matter what facet of writing I am working in.
I never question myself about it,
but just let it happen and feel happy that it does.
Maybe sometime in the future
some scholar will give an answer to why I do it.
24 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When you walked in my life...
When you walked in my life
You wiped my tears
When you walked in my life
You built my heart strong
When you walked in my life
You made my life precious
When you walked in my life
You taught me meaning of love
When you walked in my life
You showed me many things
When you walked in my life
You made my love grow for you
When you walked in my life
You told me how much I mean to you
When you walked in my life
You made your caring soul inside me
When you walked in my life
You gave me memories to cherish forever
And I will there for you till my eyes close dear
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Golden Waves
As I languished on the sandy beach
in the summer of my youth,
a pretty maiden there beside me
watching the sparkling waves
turned golden by the sun.
What future dreams I had
of a life together as one
I cannot tell.
Time has robbed me of that memory,
all I know is if I had a dream
it was tarnished without repair.
Our lives together would never be
our worlds we would never share,
for as the summer faded
our love would soon be gone.
Her words imprinted forever
on my memory.
“I love you and don’t want to hurt you
so I am packing you up.”
Then walked away leaving me
with questions I could not answer
and memories of those golden waves
under a warm summer sun.
More years have passed
than I care to remember
and she is now a faded memory,
but her last words
still torment and haunt me.
3 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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And Where Is She Now
How often do you wonder
what happened to your first love.
Sometimes I do it all the time.
I wonder what she is doing,
what kind of life she’s lead,
has she had any children and how many.
Did she ever marry the man of her dream,
or is she still waiting
for him to come along?
The questions are without answers,
as I really don’t know.
My first love was Gillian Reid.
I met her at a dance hall
where she worked.
I caught a glimpse of her
the first night I went there
from the corner of my eye.
It was enough for me
to fall madly in love with her.
I slowly got to know as time passed by.
We never went out together though I did try.
However, I had fallen madly in love with her.
Sadly, that love was never returned.
She did however become
a source of inspiration
for many years to come.
I wrote songs by the score,
even my first novel
was written for her.
As the years passed,
she still did inspire me
with short stories and a radio play
and of course
a poem or two.
The last I heard about her
was way back in the late sixties
when someone had told me
she went all hippie.
Still I never saw her again
and I often wonder
would I recognise her
if by chance we passed on the street.
One thing I do remember well.
I wrote her a letter,
the longest letter that I’ve ever written.
It took five envelops to sent it,
so I must have been smitten.
And where is she now
your guess is as good as mine.
All I can tell you is this,
somewhere in this heart of mine
a small fire for her still burns
for the first love of mine.
Time has never dampened
all the embers in there.
However, my wife
has nothing to worry about.
The past is the past
and that is just where it is staying.
poem by David Harris
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A Change Of Time!
A change of time changes everything in life!
Glorious poetry turned into prose for use earlier;
Stories, novels and articles ruled prominent;
With the coming of computer poetry resurrected!
Now everybody enjoys indulging in poetry for fun;
Articles, stories and novels are superseded by poetry!
Many poetry websites entertain new poets daily;
Many enjoy poetry reading and writing at anytime!
Poetry has become cheap product for all to use;
Nobody thought that such a thing could happen!
Nobody buys poetry books but novels and magazines;
Is poetry a use and throw material only in market now?
The things that cannot be expressed in stories, novels
Are done in poetry to satisfy heart, thought and spirit!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Come Down In Time
In the quiet silent seconds i
I turned off the light switch and i
I came down to meet you in the
Half light the moon left while a
A cluster of night jars sang some
Songs out of tune
A mantle of bright light shone
Down from the room
Come down in time
I still hear him say
So clear in my ear
Like it was today
Come down in time
Was the message he gave
Come down in time and ill
Meet you half way
Well I dont know if I should have
Heard him as yet but a
True love like his is a
A hard love to get and ive
Walked most all the way and i
I aint heard him call and im
Getting to thinking
If hes coming at all
Come down in time
I still hear him say
So clear in my ear
Like it was today
Come down in time
Was the message he gave
Come down in time and ill
Meet you half way
There are men and men and
Some hold you tight while
Some leave you counting the
Stars in the night
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Revolution Poetry Is....!
Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?
Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!
I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!
Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!
Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!
poem by Ramesh T A
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We Didn't Choose the Book
I came to see you better
in those final days because
you are my mother and
it's hard to get that in
perspective because
it's just a little bit too big
although we try
every chance we get
to tell mom
hey Mom, you're the greatest
love you Mom
my mom is my best friend
and mom's rule
But mom in the final days
although we didn't really know
that you would slip away from us
quite so suddenly
that one Sunday morning
it was afternoon when I got the call
my sister saying that you
just didn't wake up in the morning
and so we closed a chapter
on life and opened another
which we have yet to write
but mine will be filled with you
still because I remember
walking with you one arm
on yours just for love
and just to steady you. You
walked stiffly from the hip surgery
and you just get a little smaller
as real old age comes on
but just the physical part
Though you could say
everything starts to go
that's not really true
because Mom, you know
because you know
that love never forgets
I’ll never forget but I mean
you you never forgot love
although eventually you couldn't
remember much
well you would remember
stuff, but it got busted up
disjointed but Mom, it's cool
We we didn't choose the book
did we? No, we we didn't choose
the book, we just scribble
some little things into it
Notes: I write a lot, so often times I get something like this, which isn't very good. And yet it's like a photograph of me, so it has some value, at least to me. Also it is a stepping-stone perhaps in between good poems, and I would not have reached my next 'good' poem unless I had written this one.
poem by Tom Courtney
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Jesus Walk
The other day I was weeping
The tears kept coming to my eyes
But then I looked out my window
As though pleaded, to look outside.
But my tears just kept falling
Caused by the worries and world outside
As the hate and sin kept growing
From which, no one can hide.
So then I brushed the world aside
As compelled to search the sky
And then; I shook in wonder,
For I saw Jesus, walking at sunrise.
He was walking with out stretched hands
Though reaching for every woman and man
And I, didnt make a sound,
For I was lost, and never found.
I watched him walk with such concern
As He watched the world below
He walked with such shame and pity
My teardrops, began to grow.
And as I watched as Jesus walked
I knew then the Lord did care
No matter how I felt,
I knew Jesus would always be there.
And as Jesus kept walking
I saw sorrow on his saddened face
Was it though for His children and world
Or was it, for their future and fate.
So I just kept watching Jesus
As he looked, and searched the world
Then suddenly; He just disappeared
As though, He was never here.
So then I closed my window
And fell to my knees to pray and cry
Though this time not for the world or me,
But for Jesus, who walked at sunrise.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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