My Canadian Chronicles 002
It was instant recognition
We just looked at one another
and instantly the years melted away.
With open arms, we hugged
neither wanting to let go.
A wonderful sensation
and then the talking began.
7 June 2009
Author’s Note: This depicted the first meeting at the airport of a classmate Suzanne Gaddess after 51 years.
poem by David Harris
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Forty-Two Years
From a distant land I came
over an ocean that stretch out.
Relatives at the airport greeted me,
their arms stretched out with love.
Years disappeared beneath our feet.
Then like a magic carpet,
we were transported to a reunion.
On air we seemed to walk,
years vanished in moments of handshakes,
each face, that of a stranger, now family.
With each new, face recognition of an older past,
something to build on for years to come.
22 August 2001
Author’s Note:
This poem was written on my Aunt’s back porch on my first visit to Canada after 42 years.
DVH.
poem by David Harris
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My Canadian Chronicles 005
The anticipation was killing me.
I was pacing around outside
like an agitated lion waiting.
I had spoken to her an hour before
and as yet we had to meet.
I went back inside the hotel
watching every car that pulled in.
A blue van pulled in and she got out.
My eyes followed her as she walked to the door.
I stood as she entered.
Her smile radiated the lobby.
We did not need words
we knew who each other was.
We hugged,
and then we talked and talked
until my wife came back
and the introductions began again.
8 June 2009
Author’s note. This depicts my first meeting with Melvina Germain
poem by David Harris
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Two Strangers
In 1958, I last saw someone
whom would disappear from my life
until December 2006.
Our meeting was not face to face,
but across the internet.
Three cheers for technology.
She recognised me from an old school photo
it was not until I saw the class photo
after she pointed out herself
that I did recognise who she was.
For countless years you see,
I thought of her under a different name
which why I did not recognise her straight away.
The New Year came and we talked
about how our lives in the intervening years.
She introduced me to a friend
whom did the same thing as me - write.
At first, I was confused
and within our correspondence,
my confusion did show.
I gave out so many mixed signals
that I shudder to think at what she thought.
Slowly as time passed,
I grew more admiration for these two strangers
who suddenly entered into my life
and they became firm friends.
Years before I had given up on writing,
the one thing that I did best.
Like two earth angels,
they lifted me and carried me though
to a new chapter in my life.
The names of these two angels
are Suzanne Gaddess and Melvina Germain.
Between them both,
they gave me friendship
and much, much more.
They dragged me from the pit of despair
and showed me the right road to take.
I have never looked back since,
well only occasionally
to make sure my two loving friends are still there.
In 2009, I plan to meet them
and give each some great big hugs
to these two wonderful strangers
I met across the internet.
14 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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My Canadian Chronicles 26
We went to Edmonton
to see the largest Mall in North America.
Sue was meeting with an old neighbour
that she had not seen in years.
We walked around the mall
until it was time for them to meet.
Finally, they met
and this is where the strange began.
I was introduced to her friend
and I had the feeling that we had met before,
but that was impossible.
Yet even her daughter looked familiar
of which made no sense,
as I had never been to Edmonton or Calgary before.
Strange is the only word that I can put down
for our brief meeting and the feeling that I had.
16 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Men With Wings
For years untold men have looked to the sky,
have tried to build wings on which to fly,
like Icraus who with his wings of wax
soared in the sky like a bird,
but who flew to close to the sun
where his wings melted and to the sea fell.
Other men came and other men tried,
in failure their names in time hide,
but soon the missing element was found,
the element, which could get them off the ground.
An Albatross of plastic wings
soars through the early morning sky
across a channel of salty waves
of which it glides just above.
From Eagle and Dragonfly,
man now has the ability to fly.
Author’s Note:
The above poem was written as a tribute to the men of the Gossamer Albatross who crossed the English Channel on the 12th June 1979.
13 June 1979
poem by David Harris
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My Canadian Chronicles 12
We sat there talking and talking
after a most wonderful day.
Recalling moments from our lives
that have passed by
in the twinkling of an eye.
The happiness and heartaches
each of us had encountered
through our growing years.
Time marched ever onward
unnoticed by us all
slipping through the hours
to finish a perfect day
until finally sleep called to us all
at two thirty in the morning
and we bid each other goodnight.
10 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Old Friend, New Times
Face?
I’ve seen it somewhere before
.
When?
In the distance long ago.
Who?
Someone who used to visit me.
Friend?
Almost positive a friend of a kind.
Speak.
“Hello stranger, how are you? ”
Surprise.
“Haven’t we met somewhere before? ”
Nod.
“Oh, yes, now let me see.”
Years.
“My how they have changed us both.”
Remember.
“All those good time that we had.”
Memories.
“Vaguely in the long dim past.”
Drink?
“Not tonight I’m afraid.”
Goodbye.
“Been nice to see you.”
Au revoir.
“Yes, we’ll have to meet again.”
10 June 1979
Author’s note.
This piece reveals the feelings of a meeting with an old friend whom I had not seen in eleven years.
poem by David Harris
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Infinite Moment
Sometimes something magic happens,
two people meet who are worlds apart.
They meet by chance
and each touch the others heart.
We can give no explanations
except to say that it does
and that is what happened to me.
When I went on holiday,
we were strangers until we hugged
one another in an airport far away.
In that infinite moment
our lives changed forever,
we became closer than we had ever been.
When we eventually parted
if was if we were family.
25 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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You Don’t Look Like An Author
Many, many years ago,
thirty odd years in fact
I met a woman at a writing class.
We have been friends
ever since our meeting then.
It was a little while after that meeting
that she said to me.
“You know, David,
when we first met
you didn’t strike me as being an author
as you didn’t look like one to me.”
I’ve joked about it with her ever since.
Because what does a writer look like?
Is there some set format
in everyone’s eyes
of what a writer is suppose to look like?
If someone knows
could they please tell me,
then I’ll change my image
and start looking like one.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Open Arms
Lying beside you here in the dark
Feeling your heart beat with mine
Softly you whisper
You're so sincere
How could our love be so blind
We sailed on together
We drifted apart
And here you are by my side
So now I come to you with open arms
Nothing to hide
Believe what I say
So here I am with open arms
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me
Open arms
Living without you
Living alone
This empty house seems so cold
Wanting to hold you
Wanting you near
How much I wanted you home
But now that you've come back
Turned night into day
I need you to stay
So now I come to you with open arms
Nothing to hide
Believe what I say
So here I am with open arms
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me
Open arms
Arms
Arms
song performed by by Mariah Carey from Daydream
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American Civil War Chronicles 1
This series is dedicated to my friend Frank James Ryan Jr
Author’s Note.
If it had not been for Frank suggesting to diversify, this series might never have come into being. It was while thinking of what he said that the idea of writing about the American Civil War of 1861 to 1865 came into my mind. I plan to chart the Civil War in poem from its beginning to its eventual end. I will try to be as accurate as I can with my words and order of events.
DVH
BEGINNINGS BEFORE SHOTS WERE FIRED
Wars are only started
when diplomacy fails to win.
So it was in 1859
two years before the civil war began.
Neither side wanted to give an inch,
though the South was easing their stance,
and if the talking went on for another year,
the bloodshed might have been
averted completely.
However, the agitators were out in force,
and through their actions,
the talking began to crumble,
peace died and wither in dust.
When John Brown seized the Federal arsenal
at Harpers Ferry to start a slave insurrection in the South.
It was just one spark that would help ignite a war.
That in four years would pit
brother against brother, and friend against friend.
It was a war that was to shape
a fledgling country, for its future days.
The bitterness it created
was to last for years,
after the fighting
was just a distant memory,
creating distrust with wounds,
burning deep within families,
causing feuding and banditry,
before hatches were finally buried.
25 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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Nervous
I am getting nervous
and you may well ask why.
In six months from now,
I am returning to the land,
which shaped my early years
to meet with a classmate
of that period of time.
Although we did not know
each other very well way back then
in recent years that has changed
and a friendship has grown.
Now in six months time
a reunion has been planned
and I am as nervous as a newborn kitten,
which has just opened its eyes.
I visualise in my head
how are first meeting is going to be,
but knowing how life is
it won’t be that way at all.
12 December 2008
poem by David Harris
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Open Arms
If love is what you want
Baby here I am
If tenderness is what you need
Ive got that to give
If you need some affection
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
You come hem youve had a hard day
Every door you tried to open
Was closing in your face
Im right here Ill be right here
Ill embrace you
Ill be open with my heart
Ill let you in
Ill be open with my thoughts
Ill be your best friend
If you need some attention
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
Every corner you turn
Trouble come your way
But when you get home
Ill try to be there
And Ill embrace you
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
If time is what you need
Baby Ill stop the clocks
If youre looking for something
Maybe Ive got what you want
If theres one thing to remember
Dont forget that these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
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It Happens All The Time
It is strange how sometimes
we can recognise someone instantly
after a distance of years,
yet others we do not recognise at all.
This has happened a number of times to me.
The one I thought I would recognise
I could easily passed them on the street,
yet the ones who are strangers
I recognise instantly.
There is no logic in this,
but it happens all the time.
31 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Years Gone By
To symbolize a year is to notify the world
Of its influence on the years and centuries housed.
Daylight has occurred and been received on this day,
Inside them the days of the sunlight regress
For the time has travelled ever so slowly.
This year, and next year it will be variously portrayed
As years of strategy, ones for the idle chatter to disappear.
The years are symbols of centuries we define
In the deepest corners of the mind.
In the bigger depths a wonderful speech has arisen
Where ogrish talents are never depicted.
The years of purity outshine them all,
Whether the rides of a park are numerous
Or they still collapse from no fun at all.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Early Works - Big John
Across the silver screen, he rode
a man hell bent for leather.
The idol of generations young and old,
a broad shouldered man with raunchy face
who always fought the good fight.
For fifty years, he rode the screen trail,
but now he’s gone, his name will remain,
as there was only one John Wayne.
13 June 1979
Author’s note:
I wrote this tribute to John Wayne who died on the 12th June 1979. Whom for half a century gave enjoyment to millions. Yes, I was a fan as well.
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
kept the past alive to me.
Always hoping one day,
I would be able to see them over again.
More years slipped by
and the chances of that happening
became just as remote as could be,
or so I thought.
Then on the 15 December 2006,
I had an internal message on classmates.com
and that is where the first of my two second chances began.
The second came shortly afterwards
when this classmate introduced me to her friend,
whose encouraging words made me take
the second of my second chances
and on the 19th January 2007 I lifted my pen to paper
after six or seven years
and never looked back since then.
Since that date, I have written
one thousand four hundred and twenty eight poems,
a novel and published my first book.
All because of the second chances, I got.
If you are given a second chance
at anything at all,
grasp them with all your might,
never letting them go
because you will probably never get them again.
22-23 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Ten Pound Note
I was five when mam left us
But before she passed away
She gave me a ten pound note
For a coat on a rainy day
But there was no coat which could last
The rainy days I had to bear
So I lent my money to my brother
Who looked after me with care
My brother spent the money
Everywhere we went
On things I didn’t care about
Like camping in a tent
On bandages and soap
And fishing in the river
And chips when we were hungry
To warm a bellies shiver
He seemed to spend lots of money
I wanted my money back
I decided ten years later
For I never bought that mac
Brother where’s my money now
I loaned you long ago
For years you’ve spent it carelessly
But I still love you though
He was sad as he looked at me
Then he began to say
I promised mam not to leave you
Until your rainy day
Its time to buy that coat now
I’m leaving you today
You’ve grown to be a fine young man
But I must sail away
Your note has never left me
Its folded in my pocket
It sits so very tightly
In our mams silver locket
Its your turn to keep it now
Your note has kept us near
Goodbye my little brother
Let me wipe away your tear.
All Right, I’ll Sign The Papers
Many years ago we fell in love,
and wedding bells did ring,
but as the years went on,
our love began to run cold.
Disagreements turned into fights,
that lasted weeks at a time.
I could see the sadness,
creeping into our children’s faces all the time.
Then one day we realised,
our love would never regain.
So we went for counselling,
to try and ease the pain.
Their words did nothing,
to dispel the way we felt.
Next it was the lawyers,
and the divorce court.
Finally I said all right,
I’ll sign the papers,
and we’ll go our separate ways.
15 October 2007
Author’s Note:
Before anyone starts asking if this me and Vera, the answer is no. It is just a Poem.
poem by David Harris
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My Canadian Chronicles 009
For Vera, Suzanne and Danielle
(The three ladies in question.)
Underneath the backdropp of the Rockies
with their magic touching everyone
they tugged at my arms
pulling me into the street
to take a photograph from the centre of the road.
Someone passing quipped.
“I hope his life insurance is paid up.”
I took the photograph and got back on the sidewalk.
No cars or trucks were coming
and the ladies knew my insurance was paid up.
If anyone thinks this was, untoward
they would be very wrong.
It was just a bit of fun
by my wife and our friend and her daughter
as we were laughing all the time in Banff
underneath the sun and in the shadows of the Rockies.
Where we were having a wonderful happy day,
an adventure to dream about
and keep with us always.
19 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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