Paddy J. P. Harris Poems

Sustainer of the western world,
Usurper of the grain!
From deep amongst the Andes hurled
By butcher men of Spain.
...

Why stand you there proud megaliths?
So stony faced and grim.
All back to back and looking out
Hiding the truth within.
...

Though now we see a dead and fallen leaf,
Within its mould there lies a seed of spring
That waits and hides within this present grief,
Until it hears the quiet west wind sing
...

The fruits that the summer was growing
Are picked from the bushes and fields.
I wonder if the creatures were knowing,
To us all their sweetness would yield?
...

Last night I dreamt a dream that stirred my heart,
The sort that grips the spirit and the soul.
Crept forth from out some quiet hidden part
Of minds most deep and guarded mixing bowl.
...

Do not expect to see Apollo here,
Though its writ that every nineteen years
The god does leave Olympus and appear
In this round temple, though in Brittonic shape,
...

The shadow lies upon the western world
And all is quiet, seeking pleasant rest.
The sheep are huddled in their woolly fold,
The mice and birds track down their cosy nests.
...

I searched and strained for where I’d find that guide,
As I lay turning in my lowly bed,
For verses long since buried deep inside
That melon shaped protrusion called my head.
...

There is a tree upon my garden lawn,
Where I have played since bleary time began.
Forever have we dwelt within one bourne
Of growth and blooming seasons, our weary span.
...

My hair is long and thick and curly,
So twisted that each inch seems less.
Not like some locks that are just whirly.
A tight and independent mess.
...