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? ”
The reference of they was to the Beatles.
At twenty-one
while at a fun fair
I wrote what was suppose to be some lyrics,
but turned out to be a poem
that eventually would be my best loved poem
and read by thousands worldwide.
At twenty-five,
I attended the funeral of a friend
and eventually ended up marrying his widow.
At fifty-five,
I discovered a brother I never knew I had.
At sixty-one,
a classmate contacted me,
lifting me from the doldrums turned my life around.
Someone whom I never talked to
when we were at school,
but who has become a wonderful friend
and extension of my family.
If you take away these little events,
my life has been pretty boring
bordering on the mundane
and very uneventful.
3 September 2009
Authors Note:
This is just a few of the uneventful things that have happened in my life. There are more, but to put them in one poem would make it too long to put up here. Thanks for reading about my uneventful and very boring and mundane life.
Hugs David Harris 2009
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
Surprises 2
Life is filled with surprises
and I have had my fair share of them.
Imagine going to a friend’s funeral
and months down the line,
you end up marrying his widow.
Yes, that has happened to me.
Imagine after fifty-six years
discovering you had a brother
you never knew you had.
Yes, that has happened to me.
Imagine going to school with someone
you never remember speaking to
and then fifty-one years later
they become your best friend.
Yes, that has happened to me.
Imagine this friend
introducing you to a friend of theirs
and between them both
turn your life around.
Yes, that has happened to me.
Surprises happen when you least expect them,
they can happen anytime anywhere.
You can never predict when they will occur,
they just happen for a reason,
a reason for which we are never sure.
However, never turn your back on them;
count them as a blessing
that might never come again.
5 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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For Suzy With Love
For Suzanne
This is a true account of what happen to me in 2006 and 2007.
In 1958, there was a girl in my class at school.
Who would many; many years later turn my life around.
We didn’t talk much socially at school;
in fact, we were virtually strangers.
Yet here we are living thousands of miles away
from each other now and we are very good friends.
She found me adrift on the internet one day in December 2006.
At first, I didn’t recognise her name,
but when I saw an old school photograph,
I recognised her straight away.
Many happy memories were soon to fill my head.
We got talking through emails
telling how much each of our lives had changed.
It was through these exchanges
she would turn my life around.
She introduced me to a friend of hers in a roundabout way.
That introduction changed my life forever
in ways I could only dream.
Her friend wrote poetry
and I went along to read them on an internet site,
but had to join to comment.
Since then that friend of hers
has become a very good friend of mine to,
so much so I adopted her as my sister.
After joining the poetry site I put up some old poems of mine,
just to show the world how bad I was.
The joke was on me
because they said I was better than I thought.
One thing led to another and more friends I did gain.
However, Suzy still remains someone special to me.
At school, we might have been strangers,
but we are strangers no more.
In fact, now she feels more like part of my family.
Suzy with her friend gave me my life back in many ways.
Sometimes I think back of those dark days
before she caught me adrift on the internet.
This story isn’t over yet, it still has a long way to run.
Next year I plan to meet Suzy and her friend,
and you can bet your bottom dollar
there will be tears hugs and kisses all around.
For those who don’t know whom Suzy’s friend might be,
her name is Melvina Germain
who also means the world to me.
However, Suzy this poem comes from me to you will love.
Thank you my long lost classmate
for all that you have done.
23 October 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Lack of Inspiration is Inspiration Enough
One touch;
One thought;
One thought fragment..
It's enough to spark the flame
Soon becoming a conflagration
Tearing through my veins
And burning at my finger tips
Until I type the
One poem
That releases the sparks that day generated
But there is always going to be
One time
That series of uneventful events
Where you can predict the unpredictable,
The inspiration is uninspired,
And previous ideas aren't important
An idea is only relevant if it is being thought upon
And every waking morning is an idea,
A flicker of inspiration,
Waiting to be that
One thought fragment;
One thought;
One touch..
poem by Maylee Bossy
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American Literature: Choose One
Gertrude Stein
1) associated 'genius' with 'masculinity.'
2) was a self-admitted 'genius.'
3) co-wrote an opera with Dizzy Gillespie
4) passed a long, rather uneventful life in Queens
5) all and none of the above
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Goodness is uneventful. It does not flash, it glows.
quote by David Grayson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Inconvenient Novelty
long forgotten by passerby
she rocks with screams
trembling under rains decent
another faceless blur
in the city painted abstract
an inconvenient novelty
a ghostly shadow
choking on pity
strangled by contempt
nursing fate
she waits...
for the one that will never come
for the dream that has unfurled
for the timer to run out
for her death to be as uneventful as her life
poem by Aria Siren
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Clichs Of The World
Sunset over the high-rise,
By a motorway,
A little man looks up at the sky.
An uneventful end to a wasted day.
Close-up on the man at the window,
Looking at the street down below.
It's obvious he's got things on his mind.
He shakes his head, pulls down the blind.
He start's writing a letter,
To make it perfectly clear.
He's just a man who's reached the end of his rope,
Expressing his doubts and his fears.
In a world, feels so lonely and afraid,
Disillusioned by the promises they made,
It's a pity that it ended up this way,
Life is just a clich.
I'm gonna do tomorrow
What i did yesterday.
It's such a dull routine,
Somebody cut this scene,
It's such a boring clich.
Live life, day to day,
Seems so pass.
Everything you hear and say,
Just another clich.
Like an actor on a movie screen,
Living out someone else's dream.
Living out a total misconception,
Reality, a false perception.
It's such a wasted life,
Without any conclusion.
Days drift into days,
His life just slips away.
People so blas,
Everything's a clich.
Yes it is.
Yes it is.
Just an illusion.
Just an illusion.
Moonlight over the high-rise,
At the end of the day.
The little man is asleep in his bed,
Tucked up, safely away.
In his dreams he's taken away by alien beings to another
Galaxy, deep in space. to a planet where a man can live
Out his fantasies, and experience unimaginable pleasures.
But morning comes and soon the realities of life will
Shatter his illusions, and the clichs of the world will
Bring him down. but still he's waiting for a change.
Days drift into days,
His life just slips away.
Everything is pass,
Everything's a clich.
Yes it is.
Yes it is.
Just an illusion.
Just an illusion.
Yes it is.
Yes it is.
See the sunlight over the motorway,
The little man, with anger in his eyes,
Stands by the window, looks at the sky.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written Somewhere (Mini Biography)
My friends are strangers
My family is the world
At one time, I sought fame
Everyone to know my name
Praise for what I did
But as the years came around
No fame there was to be found
So I turned my back on it all
Feeling crushed and insignificantly small
Years folded into one another
And soon became a score
Still I had no wish to return
To find the fame that I so yearned
But fate had a hand for me to play
It said you still had something more to say
An old school friend from a different time
Was sent one day when I was down
To reconnect and turn my life around
At first it did not dawn on me
That our meeting was meant to be
And my life was to change so dramatically
We talked through emails
About the lives, we had both lead
Suzanne said she had a friend and told me her name
That I should read her poems online
That friend, Melvina Germain, would also become a friend of mine
And set me on a return road of an earlier time
I joined the site where her poems were
And in a few short months, I was overwhelmed
I had something I had always dreamed for
I had a family of the world
The fame I so dearly sought to find
Where friends came along and read the work of mine
It made my heart pump faster and put zest into my life again
I would never want for anything
I had all the friends and fame
I ever wanted and more
16 April 2007
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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I Found a Little Poem
Searching through some papers,
I was about to throw away.
I found a little poem that
I wrote twenty odd years ago.
I thought to myself
that is not all that bad.
It shouldn’t stay buried anymore.
Therefore, I dusted it off
and read it through,
nodded my head
and knew what I’d do.
So I typed it up
and read through it again.
I then decided to share it
with all of my friends,
and what was the title of this poem?
Believe it or not, it is called,
Where Have They Gone.
13 August 2007
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.
She did not like feathered friends
and she never came back after that.
Such is life I guess.
Nothing I did seem to work
in attracting a mate.
I went to funerals hoping to catch a widow’s eye,
but when one thought I was a corpse,
and tried to put me in the box with her departed,
I gave up after that.
I just could not understand why
women did not like me
after all I dressed like them
with a skirt and pinnie.
Such is life I guess.
I advertised in the newspapers
and my advert read
a man in need of a woman.
He is clever and witty
and is house trained as well.
I only had one reply
from a woman who said
I am pretty and petite
and I am only twenty-four.
We married in the month of June
and everything went well until it came to go to bed.
First, she unscrewed her leg and then her arm.
She then took out her glass eye
and her false teeth as well.
When she finished scraping off the make-up
my ravishing beauty of twenty-four
looked like an old hag of ninety-four.
Such is life such is my life.
Now I am left with a wife in the bed
and most of her bit on the floor.
26 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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You will love, the dead.
A friend I loved
a friend I wanted
a friend I needed
a friend I adored
but she never believed
a friend I respected most
a friend I cared most
a friend I believed most
a friend I trusted most
a friend I wrote to most
she is now the one I ignore most.
a friend I most thought about
a friend I wished for the best.
I will always never know the best
a friend whio turned to be the beast
in all my love like a predator in forest
I was harmless to her like a dove
I wish I could live as brave as a lion
the girl I gave a valentine day to run.
See she is furious on me like eagle.
She is as crue as death, to my life
she is fierce to me as a grave
all I know, if you come back
you hate me, only you will love me
when Iam dead,
poem by Samweli Butobi
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Picked Me Up
You picked me up not so long ago
gave me a reason to carry on.
You gave me hope and determination
when I thought all that was gone.
You had the drive I had the ambition
and you urged me every step along the way,
but now I am losing you
and I am so far away.
I know I cannot get back to you
before the Lord takes you away.
I can only sit and worry
at what you are going through.
My heart stretches out across the miles
hoping it could be there
to comfort you as a friend
when you need comfort the most.
Heaven is calling out for you
to take you away from family and friends
and I can only sit here and remember
how you picked me up not so long ago.
9 April 2012
Author's Note:
This was written for a good friend who lives in Canada and I went to school with and who is now dying of cancer. She got me back into writing again five years ago.
poem by David Harris
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I Never Thought Of This Poem
I never thought of this poem
It strolled into me, vividly
Forcing and obliging me
It urged me on despite resistance
I never thought of this poem
I never thought of this poem
It possessed and subdued me
It never left me alone, in peace
I could no longer resist its force
I never thought of this poem
I never thought of this poem
I gave in to it, to its wishes
I wrote it, I read it
It came out of me, liberating me
I never thought of this poem!
Huyton, Liverpool, UK
Wednesday,22nd April,2009
poem by Isaac Maliya
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning
I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem of Life
The poem of life
may rhyme or may not
it's put out in stanzas -
whatever you've got.
The poem of life
is sometimes a ditty
a ballad, a sosnnet
sad, lovely or witty.
Some couplets may falter
and burn into ash
as love affairs enter
proverbial crash.
The poem of life
now childish, now grand
reflects the old psyche
asserting its' stand.
The poem of life
will change as you enter
that scary old place
they call 'Senior Center.'
The poem of life
though wobbly in rhyme
is something YOU wrote
you know 'it is mine.'
The poem of life
ah, think of it how
your kin that is next
will treasure it now.
Or maybe your poem
was written in sand
that's even better -
in trash it won't land.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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I Am Far Away From Where I Am
I AM FAR AWAY FROM WHERE I AM
I am far away from where I am-
I often am-
It is not that there are two sides of me
Or three or four
It is not that I know anything about who
My real self is-
I suppose ‘I am' all the time I am conscious
And what that means I also don't know-
There are so many questions and so many questions -
I am here now
I am writing this
Soon I will be on my way to Minchah
I have done the shopping today
And walked from ‘Rami Levi' in the rain
My wife and I have talked and talked
About many things
I spoke with my daughter also
This afternoon I will meet with a friend
Another ailing friend will have to wait next week for a visit-
I know that all the details of a life
Do not tell us what a self is,
But without our histories
What are we?
I felt that I was far away from where I am when I began this poem,
Now I don't know exactly where I am-
Far or not-
I am just sitting writing here
A rainy day in spring
And nearly seventy years behind me-
My real self is a question
And I will ask it I suppose as long as I continue thinking
On this earth -
I don't mind not knowing
I after all assume I do know-
Life has many contradictions
And unsolved questions-
Who we really are even to ourselves
Is one of them-
Thank God there has been so much Love and Goodness
From other people in my life
And that there is still now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Brother John And Friends
I sat quietly in my study
and tried to concentrate
when I heard things crashing
all about the house,
then came the rattle of chains
a sound I had not heard in years.
I closed my eyes in dread,
as I knew who was calling
a pesky friend Brother John and his entourage.
Brother John was back with ghostly friends,
back to wreak havoc over my life again.
It wasn’t so much Brother John
but his dubious ghostly friends.
Bang went my peaceful life
as it had done many years before.
Now it was back to being ever watchful
of things flying across the room
of lights being switched on and off.
It was all mischievous fun
to Brother John and friends
and all I could do was sit
and wonder when will it ever end.
16 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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