David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

A Blank Canvas


A blank canvas waits every morning
as the sun begins to rise.
It waits for me to start thinking
of what today will be my prize.
Whatever it may be, I know
a new destination will come aboard
and my creations will be my guides to follow
to new adventures I will afford,
seeking and finding the colours and words
to fill in the emptiness of my blank canvas.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, July 25, 2012

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  • Roseann Shawiak (10/16/2013 3:15:00 AM)

    I can totally relate to this poem, every morning is a blank canvas as I watch the sun rise in silent beauty. Great poem and imagery. RoseAnn (Report) Reply

  • Louis Cecile (7/27/2012 1:51:00 AM)

    I enjoy the sentiments of this poem that seems perfect for those with writer's block. The last line fits so well. (Report) Reply

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