A visitor from the past

Hi everyone,

For no particular reason, this morning I woke up thinking about a poem I wrote more than twenty-five years ago in a book called THE BOY WHO COUNTED STARS. Among the comments to my blog and Facebook posts yesterday, someone mentioned that book so that must have triggered the memory. Anyway, for what it’s worth, here’s the poem, “A Brief Romance.” Also, for what it’s worth, I can’t get rid of the column of numbers running down the left margin, another frustration thanks to the recent overhaul by WordPress.com .

“Oh Mistress Hen,
Won’t you let me in?”
The fox asked
With a foxy grin,
But the hen said, “I’m too clever.”

“I love you so,”
He murmured low,
“Just one little squeeze,
And then I’ll go,”
But the hen just cackled, “Never!”

“Don’t make me blue,
My sweet Baboo,
I’d do anything for you,”
But the hen said, “No you wouldn’t.”

“My knees are weak,
I can scarcely speak,
I long to kiss
Your lovely beak,”
And the hen said, “I just couldn’t.”

He winked and smiled,
“My darling child,
I’ll only stay
A little while,”
And the hen said, “We really shouldn’t.”

At last the hen
Let the fox come in,
And no one knows
What happened then,
Though it only took a minute.

I can only say,
When she hopped away,
Her tummy was round
And it made her sway,
And I think the fox was in it.

(c) 1994 David L. Harrison

Thank you

Hi everyone,

Tim Rasinski asked if I had a Memorial Day poem in my files so he could use it on his post today. I didn’t have one so I wrote a poem for him. You can read it at https://www.facebook.com/timothy.rasinski/posts/10222982685889230?notif_id=1622144539782656&notif_t=feedback_reaction_generic_tagged&ref=notif Thank you, Tim.

My Word of the Month poem for May

Hi everyone,

Sorry to be so slow getting to my poem for May, but here it is.

Now What?

This morning I can’t find my groove.

I had it when I went to bed,

ideas swimming through my head,

but somehow during the night it fled.

This morning I can’t find my groove.

My fickle groove is simply gone.

Without a note to say, “Adieu,”

it vanished leaving not a clue.

Now what am I going to do?

My fickle groove is simply gone

What will happen to me now?

When I awakened with the dawn,

my traitor groove had traveled on.

I’ve never felt so woebegone.

What will happen to me now?

Read me a story

Hi everyone,

Thank you to Tim Rasinski for posting a poem of mine today on his World Read Aloud Day post. “Read Me a Story” first appeared in 1994 in THE BOY WHO COUNTED STARS and has been anthologized a couple of other times I can think of. I’m grateful to Tim for bringing it out for another curtain call.

A Writer’s Prayer

Hi everyone,

Here’s one I did many years ago in a book called CONNECTING DOTS. It was a collection of autobiographical poems. “A Writer’s Prayer” is dedicated to everyone who may have at some point, past or present, felt this way.

I’m 28. Part of becoming a writer is being rejected by editors who don’t want your work. I’m learning that lesson all too well.


Something happens in the US mail
that makes a story go stale
the same way drinks lose their fizz
after the party.

This effervesced when it was fresh
the day I sent it on its way.
Now it’s back like all the others —
stale, flat, boring.

Boring, that’s me.
Never going to get it right,
never will be good enough,
never going to be a writer.
Who am I kidding?

I mail my newest story off
like a prayer of hope –
This time, please, this time.

(c) 2004 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved