Treasure Island

David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

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

Submitted: Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Edited: Sunday, February 13, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Brother John And Friends by David Harris )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

New Poems

  1. Unbarbed Heart, Saiom Shriver
  2. Dewy Scents, Saiom Shriver
  3. Blessing Square, Saiom Shriver
  4. All Creation, Saiom Shriver
  5. The Law Of Attraction, Saiom Shriver
  6. i cant name that pain, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  7. Pink Us, Saiom Shriver
  8. Earrings, Saiom Shriver
  9. May Cloaks, Saiom Shriver
  10. Time and Tide, Aftab Alam

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]