David Harris Poems

Some people are born to be lucky,
having riches and wealth by the score.
There are others born to be lucky,
and have a wealth of friends evermore.
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A single red rose
lays on a grave,
for someone buried there.
It spoke of love,
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Sometimes we do the rumba,
a foxtrot or a jive,
as we dance through our life,
each and every day.
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A Cheater And A Thief

I came across a site
where someone had taken
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With angel wings,
you fly high
to the temples
of love in the sky.
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Several drunken revellers were walking home late Saturday night
When they passed McDougal’s farm and they spied a sight
There behind the farmhouse was an old wooden shack
The outhouse stood tall and noble out back
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For William Verdun Harris
My late brother.
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I stand behind the footlights,
wait for the curtain to fall,
another night will be over,
and tomorrow another stage will call.
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I have an addiction
that eats away at me
sadly there is no medical cure
for the habit that I have.
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Sometimes we sow little treasures
but they fall on stony ground
and there they fail to grow.
While others are sown with impunity
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