Counting my rupees

Hi everyone,

I’ve accepted a request from HarperCollins Publishers India to reprint one of my poems in an upcoming set of English school textbooks. The poem is one that gets around. “My Book!” first appeared in SOMEBODY CATCH MY HOMEWORK, published in 1993 by Boyds Mills Press. My payment for the reprint will be in rupees so I’ll have to make arrangements for the exchange.
The last similar experience was a reprint request from Editions Didier in France for the poem, “It’s Me,” that was first published by Harcourt Brace Jovanovich in LITERATURE AND THE CHILD. For that one I had to jump through hoops to change francs to dollars and avoid paying taxes in France instead of the United States.


My Word of the Month poem for August

Hi everyone,

Thanks again to Linda Baie for this month’s theme: Train.
David publicity photo
Black and White
by David L. Harrison

Helplessly she lies tied,
her voluptuous body bound
to the tracks by the black-hearted villain.
“Save me!” she sobs
at the bottom of the screen
as the piano thunders doom.

Black liner underscores her terror.
Her breast heaves futilely
against her savage bonds.
The villain throws back his head
and laughs a wicked laugh.

The train!
The train!
We read its warning whistle!

Could her eyes look more frightened?
Could the villain look more villainous?
Where is the hero?
Where is he!

And then . . .
at the last possible moment,
as the piano crescendos hysterically,
the train hurtles ever closer,
the villain laughs, “Ha-ha!”
and the maiden begs, “Save me!”
the hero comes.

Racing bravely, fearlessly
toward the furiously steaming train,
he swoops, cuts bonds, and lifts
the clinging, grateful beauty
in his brawny arms.

“How can I ever repay you?”
she murmurs, doe-eyed with promise
as they dive into the river far below.

the villain, one foot caught in the trestle,
screams in horror.
“Help me! Someone help me!”

Go to black.
Piano spikes a discordant cord.
Curtain falls, lights come up.
People stand,
sweep popcorn off their laps.
Bosoms sigh as women consider the hero.
Men reflect on the maiden, those eyes,
that train.

Word of the Month poems deadline at noon today


Hi everyone,

Don’t forget that a couple of months ago I moved the usual W.O.M. deadlines from 10:00 p.m. to 12:00 noon CST. This gives me a chance to work with posts during the day instead of needing to stay up late to get them done. Thanks for understanding.

So today, May 25, I’ll cut off new entries at 12:00 noon. I hope you have enjoyed working on poems in May inspired by our word, PROMISE. There are a number of good ones posted and with a few hours yet remaining, we could see others come in.

Sadly, we have not heard from our students this month but that is understandable. After all, one has to cut teachers some slack when they are rushing around completing all the end of the year activities and requirements. It would be nice if we see some student poems this summer but all we can do is wait and see.

I’m typing with one eye again. This morning I had the second cataract surgery so I should be getting used to these patches!



REMINDER: Voted yet for January Hall of Fame Poets? You have until Tuesday night at 10:00 CST.

Hi everyone,

My thanks again to Carole Adler for being such a lovely Featured Guest this past Thursday and Friday. Carole, I appreciate you!

I’m back. Last week ended a marathon. Over an eight day period I wrote nineteen episodes of the planned podcast series, This Week with David Harrison, and on Saturday I was in a studio from 9:00 – 5:00 where we shot them all. The producer now has eight weeks to complete all the post production work so we can be ready to go by spring break. Those of you involved in education can look for marketing efforts to begin then.

Now I can get back on task, beginning with the process of catching up. Tomorrow I’ll post my lead off response to a new topic on WRITERS AT WORK. I hope you’ll join us for that. And plan to meet my Featured Guest this week when I introduce Ruth Culham on Thursday and present her picture and article on Friday.

Between now and then I’ll be working on something good for Wednesday. For now, here’s a poem I wrote recently after spending quite a while observing a bald eagle on our lake looking like it was Monday for sure.


by David L. Harrison

The bald eagle stands flatfooted on the ice.
In narrow channels around it
a dozen coots bob
like deli luncheon specials.

Lethargically the eagle stares,
turns its head,
bored with the menu.

Time to get going.
Grab a bite first?
Can’t decide,
not really hungry.

For working stiffs everywhere
it’s Monday.