Harry Is A Poet

As nice as it is to play for the worldStill perform to one person, if you're allowedI know you've got dreams of making it big young childOne day you'll make every person on this Earth grow wildBut until that day here's a truth better realisedIt's a good thing to make a few people satisfiedEach person that I have ever met is fascinating to meWith dreams and histories as curious as can beSo if you can take a small time of that person's pathAnd make them smile or cry or laughIf you can do something special for just a fewWell, I'll take that every time. Wouldn't you?One day you'll play for the world. And it wont be a long while.But you should still realise how good it is to make one person smile.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/11/play-for-world.html

It starts with a momentThe moment you commitYou decide, screw the hatersI'm doing it.You know the road is hardYou know you've tried to walk it before.That few have succeededAnd failure has claimed many moreIt doesn't matterYou've made up your mind.So now it doesn't matter what obstacles you findWhat things life throws in your wayWhat the challenges are you face each dayYou've done it. You've chosen your path.Ridicule any attempts to make you stop. Laugh.The moment has passed. Now do not falter as you move.You are in charge. Vault into your groove.Take the lead. You have to figure out how.It starts with a moment. And your time is now.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-moment-you-commit.html

Dear Lord, Thank You, AmenDear Lord, Thank You, AmenDear Lord, Thank You for all You do and for loving through and through and Lord for being wholly true, AmenDear Lord, The beginning and the end, thank you my friend                  That you mend and defend when I'm at whit's end AmenDear Lord, Thank You for lending Your gifts and giving your spirit                   I'm lifting You up so I will never forget it AmenDear Lord, Thank You for knowing me and giving me a chance to be                  A missionary in deed for the worthy creed of Christianity                  That when I struggle, Lord, You're there                  That when I falter Lord, You care                  That when I ask where to the air in my worst nightmare                  You repair then prepare me so I sing Your fanfare in this prayer AmenDear Lord, You will be. You are. And You were.                   Bless all your word and all I've heard and all I've observed                   Because through it all I've inferred                   That you are wonderful. Amen.Dear Lord, What I'm trying to say is simply thank You, and then a thousand times Amen.Thank You.You didn't have to make the world this way, but You did.You didn't have to love us in this way, but You do.You care for us. Through all our mistakes and all our flaws and all our sins. You care for us. And You forgive us.So Lord. Dear Lord. Let this short prayer I pray now capture everything it needs to. And let me mean each word without hesitation or doubt.Dear Lord. Thank You. Amen.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/10/dear-lord-thank-you-amen.html

Every year on my birthday I ask what I have doneWhat have I accomplished, what victories have I won?I imagine meeting Father Time on this annual dateHanding over one year, as is my fateAnd then asking, politely, what did I get in return?Who did I meet? What did I learn?Did I cause more smiles than frowns?Did I visit new cultures or stay in one town?And each year, when I sit down, and think really hardAnd I realise the cost I've paid for each birthday cardI think it's worth it. I accept this trade.It's a high cost, and maybe I didn't get the best deal for each second paidBut for those I've got to know, and the things I've been allowed to doI'll pay the toll this year. And I can't wait to see what next year pays for too.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/10/cost-of-birthday.html

In life, we leave a legacy of memoriesEtched in connections in living brainsTime spent together is not just being friendlyThere is love we share and happiness we gainThis poem is lovingly dedicated to my GrandmaShe has been around 92 years on this World where we areBrings happiness and joy to many a different faceShe takes life and it's challenges with a loving embraceBecause in 1926, the same year as Winnie the PoohMy Grandma was born all fresh and newYoung and full of promise, so fittinglyThey named her simply RosemaryAnd like rosemary, she works best with othersAs a mentor, as a neighbour, as a partner and loverShe never sees a person as better or worseJust a future friend with which to converseI feel lucky, even though I arrived so lateI spent 25 years with her on Earth as mentor and mateThat after so much time since that birth yearBoth she and I share this world right hereIf I start to worry about what the future might bringI remember, in 1926, we still had an empire and a kingWe've been through much turmoil and change, it needs not be namedJust that through it all my dear Grandma remainedWhatever challenges life decides to throw my wayBlood flowing in her veins flows in mine todaySo I have the power and the passion to persevereThanks to those strengths passed on from my Grandma right hereI just want her to know, how grateful I always will beFor the patience growing up she never failed to show meFor the love, and the light, let me just sayGrandma, thank you for all the memories you sent my wayMy Grandma is a special friend, as you can tell in this rhymeThis poem is in present tense for a very good reasonIt is adapted from one I shared with her one, two timesRepeated for her enjoyment in a sunnier and happy seasonReciting it to her, is a memory we both shareI can recall it in the present, even though it's in the past tooShe is alive in me, even though she may now be elsewhereSo Rosemary, Grandma, God bless, and thank you.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/grandma.html

Art is an industryArt is an industryRepeat Repeat Repeat after meArt is an industryTime is money lets get earningArt is money lets get churningCreative works for greed and profitInnovate make money off itTake from what you've learned so farReach inside you (not too far)Be inspired make something fineGet it done by a deadlineAll we see movies playsIs done by 9-5 each dayDon't be late work overtimeWasting talent is a crimeYou could be making capitalFor the suits that run it allJoie de vivre and ennuiPackaged for the industyDon't be disheartened girls and boysStill enjoy your shows and toysDown the line, someone still createdThey took a chance and innovatePoured out their heart to something newIt came through a conveyor belt to youThere is still humanity, somewhere insideAn industry where sparks can still resideBottled up, not kept bright too longBecause by now you know this songArt is an industryArt is an industryRepeat Repeat Repeat after meArt is an industry***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/10/art-is-industry.html

Humanity was tribal for many an ageTalks of travel met with confusion and rageThere's danger out there, beyond that wallEven talking to neighbours could be our downfallEvery tribe for itself. Every culture, constrainedIndependent people were quashed and containedInformation didn't spread, new relations weren't sewnAll anyone wanted was to be left aloneAnd then we began to push boundaries and exploreThrough triumph and empire, humanity wanted moreBehind the warriors were those with notions more nobleSlowly, the earth became globalA world formed where we could speak across bordersPassage less risky, we formed a world orderArt could now be witnessed from many times and placesSmiles were shared between different types of facesWe are one tribe, even if we're of different factionsSo, my friend, don't be so resistant in reactionTo those who think sharing cultures is a crimeJust think of them as a few (hundred) years out of time.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/tribal.html

make me runmotivate megive me motiveand i will flyi can't just gowithout reasoni need somethinghelp meelse i will be staticnever movei want to seethe worldi'm asking politelyi would begbut i need somethingor someoneto run for***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/give-me-reason.html

I've been trying to let myself be more vulnerable recently, but honestly, it's kind of hardAll my life I've lived so far has taught me not to show my cardsThat the world is out to get me, so I'd better watch my backAnd that anyone not constantly on defence is vulnerable to attackEasier by far not to be involved, better never to begin anythingThrow up every barrier and don't you dare. Let. Anyone. In.Yes it can be draining. But we all manage it somehow.And after years and years of training, I'm good at it by now.This fort has become my home, a habit of its ownSo I sit within relaxed, guarded, and alone.And I don't want to be anymoreAnd I don't know what will happen when I open up my doorsAnd I'm sorry for when I instinctively try to shut in in your facePlease. Please try again. Ignore that I have to brace.I just didn't realise how defensive I'd become.Wondering why that deep friendship wouldn't comeUntil realising that anyone who looked in my directionSimply saw a person with layer after layer of protectionSo, I'm going to tryIt'll be tough. I may question why.If I let people in, sacrifices will have to be made.I've seen many people hurt by others. And scars are a tricky trade.Being vulnerable isn't enough. I know that in my heart.But hey. I'm trying. And that's a start.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/vulnerable.html

Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the day I will rest.But tomorrow I agreed work to be done, and it has to be my best.And there's this other favour, and that one too.I don't think the tomorrow's rest will likely come true.Maybe in a week? I'll say no to things people suggest.I'll schedule one day in when I can truly rest.Hold on though. I have this weekly commitment early each day.And that stuff in a month that I just can't delay.Next year, I'll be a whole different me.Maybe I'll stop my job and work and degree.And in that year, I'll make time to do nothing at all.Because otherwise I know I'll just hit a wall.When I am dead, maybe I shall lay still in my grave.Or maybe I'll still twist and turn and work and slave.With the knowledge of one more thing I should do.With a promise of rest held when eternity is due.True rest is needed, and not just doing a different task.The ability to stop. Breath. To collect yourself at last.We all need that time. A break from the day to day.And if I can't promise myself tomorrow's rest, then I shall rest today.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/rest.html

"Evil may so shape events that Caesar will occupy a place and Christ a cross, but that same Christ will rise up and split history into Ad and BC, so that even the life of Caesar must be dated by his name. Yes, 'the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice'" - Martin Luther King Jr***It is a famous quote. You may have heard it before.It may have confused you and given you pause,So here I present it in a more full clause,To help you appreciate just what this quote may be for.In my eyes it is in nature spiritual The physical world may not follow the sameIt does not say the ruthless will be forgotten We remember both Christ's and Caesar's namesIt does not say that we don't need to try That fate will cast evil, eventually, with shameIt talks of God's plan, how we struggle to see it But his will be the glory, and his will be the fameIt may not serve as much comfort to persecuted nationsNor give the persecutors all that much hesitationSince, I believe, this quote is spiritual in its intentionsSo it may just give worshipers one notion of celebrationThat faith is worthwhile, in the eyes of the believerAnd that which is belongs to him, shall be rendered onto Caesar***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-arc-of-moral-universe.html

Do you fight the rain, or embrace it?Do you back down or do you face it?The rain hits hard, no one denies thatYet it's also bearable, you must realise thatIt may be unpleasant, or better from afarSounds better on the windows or roof of a carBut what if you know you'll have to walk in rain?Do you live your life inside in full restrain?Do you go outside, but only reluctantlyProtect what you can, shield your body lovinglyOr do you go out with open armsNo shield from rain, no shield from harmThe rain will pass. It's not that bad.Your body adapts. Do not be sad.Sometime you need to dive in, and let your mind be open.You don't chose life's conditions, just how you approach them.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/rain.html

I can't even remember her face any moreI stared into her eyes for such a long timeWhat colour were they? Hazy.Same as her hands, I so often held in mineShe was kind to me, I remember thatEspecially when we left, tried to leave me with no painAnd with it she took nearly everything.Memories. Seized along with her name.She was greater than me, in a way I could never knowShe was beautiful. Stunning. Someone I could never find.I've tried looking, but there was no clues. Nothing.There was only one thing she left behind.The one thing she couldn't remove. She probably didn't have a choice.She who one I loved. She who erased everything. She who left me alone. She I can't recall.I have but one final memory of it all.That she had the most lovely voice.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/what-she-left-behind.html

The CompassThe compass was a gift from GodBut the needle refused to stay stillI'd walk three miles through deepest bogTrying to follow its willToday is a day we go North!Needle held a steady lineNext day was East. I went forthThen it showed South for a timeOccasionally, I would stopWatch my compass circle roundDive and dance and spin and dropSometimes point at the groundWhile stationary I would panic"I'm not going where I'm supposed to be"While walking I'd grow manicFollowing the whims of a force I could not seeI know not where I'm being ledI will walk through wind sun and shadeFollowing the smallest crumbs of breadTo feel that some progress has been made***The InstructorThe instructor, they took my handAdjusted the grip on my waistPushed my feet out slightlyGave three instructions to my faceI had plenty of questionsBut knew I was not allowed to askIt was my job to learnThis oh-so-difficult taskThe instructor was powerfulBut gentle in their touchI followed where they ledAnd did not question. Much.Each time I tried, the same replyWas whispered in my earDo not forget, my dearI am the instructor hereIn awe, I fell silentUntil another question would ariseThis happened time and time againUntil, to my surpriseI finally lost myself in the dance. And then, for just a little whileWe danced together as a pair, and I saw the instructor smile***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-compass-and-instructor.html

One reason people don't understand music, poetry, dancing or artIs we are taught to analyse it at schoolYou need to fall in love, let it fill your heartLet it make you act a total foolYou must learn each step, remember each noteBreak down each and every lineAnd never feel the rhythm inside your throatNever live inside the rhymeYou must say to that world of cynicism and fearI don't know why, but I like this thingYes, this thing. This one right here.It fills my mind, makes me want to singDon't be afraid, or embarrassed or scaredLet it fill you to your coreAll art is flawed. All things are impaired.Don't let that stop you wanting moreBut you must learn to love, complete and trueThen, and only thenWill you want to break it down like school taught you tooYou will want to break it down, understand howThis song you heard or drawing you foundOpened you up more than you'd ever normally allowWith just a brushstroke, or word, or soundStudy has it's place. But it must not come first.Find that which means something to youThen break it down, if you have the thirstBut let yourself love it through and through***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/loving-art.html

The sun is not for you, young IcarusYou will burn your wings trying to reach so tallLet me burn my wings thenSo that in learning how to rise, I will know what it is to fallJust as I know it is better to have learned to dreamThan never to have flown at allIcarus, The fall will be greatYou will never return to the skyWould it be better not to leave the ground?Should I also make sure I don't jump too high?To be human is to failAnd what could be more human than one last great goodbyeYou must know restraint boyThe world will learn lessons from how you flyWhat lessons do they expect?What marvels they may seeNot one who has clipped wingsBut one who soars above the seaYour pride will be your downfallIn both ways, you end aloneBut I will end up alone in the heavens either sideMy tale is not of cautionThe tale of Icarus is not of prideJust that it is possible to failFor those that dare to touch the sky***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/young-icarus.html

Dream, young child.Your path is before you.You could do a thousand thingsBut you can't do all of themSo, for now, you need to dreamYou need to aspireYou need to pickNeed to chooseNeed a way to pick the left forkOr, sometimes, know what's rightNo human will pick 'em quite like youSo you need to become yourselfDream, young childYour path is before youAnd you alone***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/dream-young-child.html

I want to be your ray of lightIf you will let me shineI know you have walked in darknessSo let me share this light of mineI have been fortunate of lateWith few obstacles in by pathIf you will let me use this extra timeI would like to make you laughEven though we walk our own wayYou need not walk aloneAnd, dear friend of mineI know your struggle is one you ownBut, if you let me, then for a whileI will be a ray of light, and try to make you smile.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/ray-of-light.html

It's been a busy timeLife's been a rushWork has been hardExpectations a mustYou've been off your feetThere are scars and blistersSeized every chanceMissed some by a whiskerYour brain's at a limitYour heart is in stressYou've been piled uponAs a well-structured messYou've done what you can - You've done your best.Finally, it is time to rest.***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/06/time-to-rest.html

At first, there's only staticThe spit and crackleWith shh and speckleWhite noise.UnderneathIf you listen longStrain your earsAnd manage not to go madDo you hear it?pleaseTell meYou hear it?Beneath all static, there are wordsforeign, distantDeliberateWordsCallingDo not fall in to the noiseDo not listen too closelyLest you tooBecomeStatic***https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/06/static.html