In Loving Memory
A long time ago,1976 to be exact
a friend said I should go along
to a writing class he had joined.
Therefore, I did and met someone,
who was to change my life.
However, I did not know it at the time.
For the first couple of years he was simply my tutor.
However, as the years rolled on,
he became my mentor,
and most of all my friend.
For every year, we knew one another
the friendship grew stronger than before.
Before I met Maurice,
he had published four novels
and I have every one.
He started with A City Called Holy,
next came The Splendour and the Havoc,
and then The World and the Flesh,
and finally Across the Frontier.
He also wrote plays,
produced, directed and acted
in them with his wife Peggy.
When I met him his books
were out of print,
but through the years,
I found them one by one.
After a friendship that lasted
over seventeen years Maurice died.
However just before he passed away,
he told me how his local library
had approached him, wanting to know
if he had any copies of his books,
as they only had one left.
He did not and felt sadly about that.
As he told me, I made a promise to myself.
Not matter how long it took,
or how much it would cost,
his local library would have,
those books of his they did not have.
More than ten years passed from the time of his death,
until I was finally able to fulfil my promise.
I collected through the years
the books the library was missing.
In January 2006, I presented them to his local library.
It was a way of saluting a special friend,
helping keep his name alive.
I did it because of the special gifts,
through the years he gave me.
His friendship, his knowledge and help
with my writing no one had ever given before.
Therefore, any success
that I may ever achieve
can be contributed to him.
A gentleman of words,
my tutor, my mentor,
and lastly a very kind and special friend.
(For the late Maurice Callard)
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
Dear Friend
For The Late Maurice Callard
Dear friend it has been a long time
since I last spoke to you.
Sadly, I will never get that chance again.
You are gone now,
sitting at God’s side.
While you were here,
you were my tutor,
my surrogate father and my friend.
I remember our first meeting
so very vividly.
You headed up a class of five
and the year was 1976.
For the next 17 years or so,
you became the lifeblood of me.
I remember how you patiently
guided me through each novel that I wrote.
Proclaiming that I got better with each one.
Too bad the publishers never saw it that way.
However, you never let me get discouraged by that.
There is always the next one you would say.
You called me your good luck charm
as every class I attended
always seemed to be a good one.
I made many friends thanks to you.
Just before your health started failing
we got together and gave a night to you.
They asked me to speak about you.
I abandoned the script I had written
and just recollected the happy years that we had.
In a year or so, you were gone
with one wish left behind.
For nearly 14 years,
I carried that wish with me.
Then finally I got a chance to fulfil it
and your last wish came true.
It was paying back only a small measure
of what you had given me.
Of those five students you had in 1976
two have been granted
the success you wished on them.
One became a renown novelist
and the other a poet - me.
Dear friend you may be gone
but you are not forgotten
by me or anyone
who was touched by your generosity.
2 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Promise Made
We have heard many times of people
making promises they never keep.
This is not one of them.
He made a promise silently to himself
to fulfil the last wish a dying man.
He knew not how long it would take him
that promise to fulfil.
However, years went by one after the other.
Still he intended that promise to fulfil
even if it took a lifetime.
Ten years passed and still he remembered
always saying to himself
in the next he would do it.
Finally eleven years after his friend’s death
he was able that promise to fulfil.
In the fulfilment, he gained himself
what he had sought for more years
than he cared to remember.
It was as if his friend was thanking him.
For that promise, he never forgot and kept.
This story is true as I am that person
who made that promise
and fulfilled it not so long ago.
poem by David Harris
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Open Book's Monologue Part 5: Welcome To The Library!
Welcome to the library! come one come all
Welcome to the library! come with your brethren on this wall
Welcome to the library! come all you books tattered or new
Welcome to the library! come tired and overdue
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're most mundane
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're to endure most pain
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit unwanted
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit haunted
Yes welcome to the library where everyone's just like you
Yes welcome to the library where we're all books too!
Yes welcome to the library where you can take comfort
Yes welcome to the library where In the fact you're no longer unique
Yes welcome to the library You're just pen marks ink
Departing the library? I think not, even if you get out we'll bring you back
Departing the library? Here you rot, but we'll dust you to ease your passing
Departing the library? Don't make me laugh, here you're black and white
Departing the library? Nobody argues on your behalf, look more amassing
Welcome to the library! A place of keeping and safety
Welcome to the library! Take your place you'll like it, just wait and see
Welcome to the library! New books don't mind the old they're disillusioned
Welcome to the library! You've sold your soul... but it's too late for you
so WELCOME
poem by David Knox
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A Lasting Friendship
For Betty Burton
A friend for over thirty years.
It is funny just how time slips away.
It only seems like yesterday
when the two of us met,
long, long ago in 1976.
It was in September of that year
a friend persuaded me
to go along to a writing class
to help boost up the numbers
and my moral.
With just four pupils
and five when I came along,
so a small intimate group
all with the desire to write,
but Betty became
the most famous of us all
with over thirteen
historical romantic bestsellers.
She really has made her name.
I am proud to say
I was there when she began.
I remember when
she had her first short story published
it was a treat to us all.
If Betty could do it
then there was some hope for us all.
She even started teaching
and I was a guest speaker
at one of her classes,
and as the years passed on by,
we met up with one another
very occasionally,
but what remained
even to this day
was a lasting friendship.
About that
there is nothing more to say.
17 January 2007
poem by David Harris
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Hoarder Or Collector (Fun Poem 101)
Some of us are hoarders
and we don’t know where to stop.
We say we are collectors,
of rubbish maybe.
For a long time I have loved books
and collected every waif and stray.
People gave them to me by the dozen
and I never turned them away.
My collecting went so mad
I have now ten thousand or more
within my library.
Enough is enough I would say,
but still more arrived.
Now I don’t live in a house anymore,
as it has become a library.
There are books in every room
and not just one or two,
but dozens and dozens of them.
Everywhere you go;
there are books here and there.
Now I must down size
and my problem is
which ones do I let go,
and then I think
I might want to read a couple of them.
I am confused at what to do.
I know if I don’t do it soon
we won’t be able to
even get into the loo!
19 April 2009
Author’s note:
Loo is a word we use instead of saying Toilet. And, yes, I have that many books and I do have to get rid of some.
DVH
poem by David Harris
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The long term prisoner
He got a life sentence
been in now thirty years
his once ruddy features
now grey and ashen.
His wife long gone
married his friend
hasn't heard from his
son in years.
Spent a long time
in solitary confinement,
killed another prisoner
forgot what it was about.
His mind full of knowledge
read thousands of books
the complete works of Shakespeare.
Outside he was somebody
now just another number
old before his time.
Told he will never get out
he will die in prison,
but he says he's been dead for years.
The lifer died in his sleep
as he was being buried
another lifer moved into his cell.
poem by Kevin Halls
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love Died Young
They met at the local library
One cold wintry day
They had nice conversation
And later met again at
A local party
He had hair of black
Blue eyes and a lovely smile
He was so handsome in her eyes
Her hair was golden like wheat
Her eyes were emerald green
Her beauty was rare
He adored her
They dated for 2 years
Then one day he fell to his
Knees all pride pushed aside
And he asked her to become his wife
She gratefully accepted his proposal
With God as the witness that day
Three years have passed
Two children came to them
A blessing from God
A boy and a girl-twins they were
Then three years later
The wife falls to the floor
She weakly said: “I am ok now” as
A hand was extended to help her to her feet
After the doctor’s exam
She was told she had a short
Time to live for she could not be healed
Love so young how could this be?
Her husband and two small children struggled
Wondering how could God let such a terrible thing
Happen to such a good family
Love died so young the husband
And children found strength to carry on
The mother lives on through them all
But how they long to find out in the end
Why love had to die so young?
©Copyright 2006 Becky LaPrarie
poem by Becky LaPrarie
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Books in a large university library system: 2,000,000. Books in an average large city library: 10,000. Average number of books in a chain bookstore: 30,000. Books in an average neighborhood branch library: 20,000.
quote by Anthony Burgess
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eve
Detdicated to Eve Croft
May she Rest In Peace
It was over forty years ago
when I first met her.
I had barely left my teens.
She was older than me;
in fact, she was a friend’s mother.
Divorce had left her lonely
with three sons to bring up.
Life was not easy,
not much time to herself.
Slowly after meeting her,
a friendship between us grew.
To make her life sustainable
I took her out
from time to time.
We held hands at the pictures
and when we went anywhere.
She often worried
what people would think of me.
I didn’t really care what people thought.
Eve was a friend
and there was nothing more to be said.
For the next couple of years
our friendship never wavered.
We would hug and smile
whenever we did meet.
There was never any romance involved,
we were just very good friends.
I never forget when she had an offer
to move in with someone.
She was so worried
that I would think badly of her.
She was almost in tears
when she told me his proposition.
I put my arm around her shoulder
and reassured her it was all right.
That our friendship would never diminish
regardless what she did.
Sadly, her going away
was never meant to be.
She fell ill with cancer
and went to live with her sister
who would care for her.
It was the last time
I was ever to see her.
It was a few years later
I bumped into her eldest son.
When I asked him about his mum
he looked at me strangely
with tears holding back I his eyes.
She died I thought you knew.
I said that I didn’t.
He said he couldn’t stop
as he had a bus to catch,
and then he was gone.
With head bowed, I turned away
and started walking home.
Tears leaked from my eyes
making small lines across my cheeks.
My regret then and will always be
that I never had a chance
to say a proper goodbye.
1 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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An Old Man's Wish
As I listened to a song tonight
entitled An Old Man's Wish,
it started me remembering
of an old man I knew long ago
and one of his last wishes
he would never see fulfilled.
Of all his friends' only one
would take the time and years
to follow that wish through.
More than ten years would slip away,
but that wish was never forgotten.
Then finally, one day it was fulfilled,
the old man would have been delighted
had he been around to see
the conclusion of the quest
that took twelve years to fulfil.
This story I have told is true,
I know, as I am that friend
who made an old man's wish
eventually come true.
2 October 2012
poem by David Harris
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A Friendship Awakens
Sometimes it takes many years
for a friendship to awaken.
Many heartaches lay behind in its wake
as years go tumbling by.
Then suddenly the friendship awakens
and grows and grows and grows.
Feelings extend along a path
that was never there before.
A wealth of unconditional love
opens many doors
and your arms stretch out to embrace
what should have been there before,
but will never subside again.
27 October 2008
The poem was written for a very special friend
whose friendship took over forty years to awaken.
poem by David Harris
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However, I survived and started to read all chemistry books that I could get a hand on, first some 19th century books from our home library that did not provide much reliable information, and then I emptied the rather extensive city library.
quote by Richard Ernst
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To you, my dear friend,
Friendship begins, and goes on forever,
Friend indeed don't put friend in mouth,
Just put in heart even five years no see,
Friend don't ask bagatelles,
Just wish everything goes well,
Friend don't disturb you,
Just give you the strength to go on,
Friend don't want got sth. from you,
Just love,
Friend always share the beauty of life,
Even more the hard time,
Friend goes together when the sun is shining,
Even more the raining day,
Friend pledge someday sth.,
Even more the actions,
Friend remember happy times past,
Even more now,
Friendship ends, and we pass away.
A Discarded Dream
A life in writing is all I wanted
I watched other friends reach
pinnacles I could only dream about.
Their writing shone
like bright stars
as mine just gathered dust.
Rejected time and time again
The more I wrote
The more the rejections grew,
until in the end I looked at what I had
and the years I for-fitted
searching, scrambling for a dream
Every glimmer of hope,
and there were plenty
seemed to crumble
and like sand slip through my fingers.
In the end after my mentor and friend died.
The only person to encourage me
when I was filled with despair
something within in me died as well.
I looked back at what I called
all those wasted years.
I then gave up the one thing
that gave my life some meaning.
Discarded it as a child would a broken toy.
The dream I had was broken,
un-repairable so I thought.
I declined to be a nobody
without any future promised land.
Giving up without even taking a stand.
The years tumbled by
and I found much to my surprise
there was no longing left within my eyes.
The faith I had in myself
also died a lonely death.
The love for what I wanted to do
withered without repair.
I put my pen down
I swore for the last time.
No more would I pursue the dream
that had consumed me
Therefore, down the road
I went swearing never to return.
For years that promise I kept.
The fire flickered and dimmed,
but somehow never died
for deep within the embers
a small flame still flickered alive.
A chance encounter,
a request to read someone else’s work
and comment of two was enough.
To ignite the flame
to burn brighter than before.
Awakening a dormant dream
that had been cast aside.
The dream then flourished
with no ending in sight.
Everyday it awakens more.
Therefore, for those who read
what happen to me
don’t discard your hopes and dreams,
for one day you’ll turn a corner
and those dreams will come true.
9 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
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I'm Off to The Library Again
There she is again
Putting books back
In the right section
All nice and neat.
Then she turns
And smiles at me.
'Hi, found what your
Looking for? '
I think to myself,
Yes she's standing
Right in front of me.
But I bottle out,
And decide to play it cool,
'No, have you any new
Football books in? '
Bet she thinks ı'm
A right saddo now?
Sounded about ten years old.
But to my delight she tells
Me she's a football fan too,
And we chat for ages stood
In front of the football annuals.
Then an old lady pushes in
And wants to know where the
Mills and Boon books are,
So off she goes looking
For romance and passion.
I wait until she's at the desk
She looks at me and smiles
When she's stamping my books,
She's left her mark on me that's for sure.
I tell her to have a nice day,
And she replies and you,
And tells me to enjoy my books,
I wonder what time the library
Opens in the morning?
poem by Kevin Halls
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A Friend Is Most Important!
Confidence, courage and guidance friend gives to one;
To a friend only one can confide anything in the world;
Such a friend only can be with one till the end of life!
If there is no friend who can be a friend to one here?
Father or mother can be a friend to a friendless person;
Otherwise Nature is the best friend for one in the world.
Without them only conscience can be a friend to one;
Knowledge from books is a best friend to one anywhere!
If anything is of no use then only God is the sure friend!
Shakespeare, Dickens, Homer and Vyasa have said all
About friends, their activities in life for heroes in stories!
Love and friendship are most important in life for anyone.
Knowledge and ideas of great books and friends are ever
Indeed of great help in life and hope, virtue and power!
poem by Ramesh T A
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No One's Friend
she's no one's friend
she's no one's friend
at mornings she wants to be dead
so lonely
so desperately lonely and sad
she just wants it all end
she's no one's friend
she's no one's friend
all days and nights run gray and blend
so empty
so hopelessly empty and drab
she waits for them all to end
no one's friend
books on the shelves
dreams melt away in her head
nothing ever will help
nothing ever helps
she's no one's friend
she's no one's friend
there are always things you don't get
but you want them
you want them so badly and wait
for years and years on end
no one's friend
books on the shelves
dreams melt away in her head
nothing ever will help
nothing ever helps
poem by Max Kuvaev
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Early Works - In Friendship
To Maurice Callard
The days were marked with frustration
each getting more than the last.
A friend with a proposition
an opportunity that might last.
Along dark corridors to an almost empty room
a light for ambition awaiting there,
a mere mortal with friendly words.
The days seem shorter than before
the frustration begins to decline.
A thought rears from the subconscious
is spurred on to a climax.
A year of tension
and seemingly impossible task,
but its ending is enjoyment.
Years pass almost unnoticed
the light is now a friend
someone whom I think highly
who’s prompting never ends.
Someone to identify with
whom my reward is regarded as friendship.
I ask no higher accolade
from him or any other.
For friendship is a bond
for which my life has purpose.
28 February 1980
poem by David Harris
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I spent three days a week for 10 years educating myself in the public library, and it's better than college. People should educate themselves - you can get a complete education for no money. At the end of 10 years, I had read every book in the library and I'd written a thousand stories.
quote by Ray Bradbury
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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