Whence Harry got to tarry for a Barrymore
Extra curricular activities ,
Extra virgin olive oil
Extra terrestrial cosmology,
saucer you are a foe, metaphor
You are an earl gray without Milk and sugar ,
a cup after an interlocking prayer
A wrinkled skin that tells a lot about a tafsir
And a tiny pillow that will be always mine
telling me to come home and sing a mundane song.
I am oblivious to loose any more
I am neither grievance nor exaltation
I am a tribune that you are Sasha's brother
they check the headline every day
Do you have the funeral teardrops with you?
Mine one was empty as I got them all from you.
The one who knows Rita
The one who knows Glow in the dark
The one who knows Chapter Takathur
The one who knows Alan Kurdi
The one who knows I miss that I never coveted
The one who knows I came to the sky blue , light hearted silt head
Not to have you, but to have me, back!
Oh, peaceful sentinel of green,
With sweeping boughs and leafy screen!
Most trees provide a tranquil shade,
For picnickers in any glade
But you, O Willow, choose to smite,
And pummel passersby all night!
While common willows gently weep,
You cause the very bones to leap!
With one swift swish, you wreck a car,
And launch a Ford into a star.
You care not for a bird or bee,
An equal-opportunity brute tree.
You guard a dark and secret door,
Where furry friends pace on the floor.
A gentle poke upon your bark
Will freeze you silent in the dark,
A magic trick of wood and limb,
To keep your temper rather trim!
So hail the violent, twisted wood!
Misunderstood, yet understood.
The only tree, we must agree,
That strikes right back at botany!
Written: June 26, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Constance La France
Poetry Quote:"‘I am your friend, at this hour you
needed me, here is my hand, I hold out to you
With my undying friendship, I offer you sanctuary.’" By Harry Horsman
The moonlight darkens, silver stain.
“Nature’s Worst” is around the rain.
Mist remembers your “Thwarted” breath.
Gentle melodies of love and death.
The blue sky of “Woopa Bank” makes you sing.
Grey haze curls and clings to the wing.
Passion is thinning. But it did not die.
Your words still drift up in the sky.
Wild gusts blew, and the canvas ripped.
“Season’s End” left souls stripped.
But in the storm, I heard your voice.
A truth pulse through anguish choice.
You predicted the century's snare,
"Century-Twenty Two", the world never cares.
And yet, your lines resisted decay.
They lit the dark, they warned the way.
"Living To Die" in the "Cemetery" near,
Could not silence what we hear.
Your scrolls of praise, your final tone,
Allow us to feel less alone.
"Harry Horsman", poet, heart of mist,
Your "Metamorphosis" requiem persists.
While out walking late last night
wondered who it was I saw
slinking by your bedroom window
lurking 'round your back door
when I shouted 'Who goes there?”
they ran like hell didn't tarry
those I'd seen could well have been any
peeping Tom Dick and Harry
On a twilight night in November’s glow..
soft-star winds began to blow.
A whispered spell swept ’cross the skies..
The universe opened its silver eyes.
At 8:40pm, the veil grew thin..
Letting a precious new soul step in.
On the 14th November 2025..
The world was gifted when you arrived.
Harry James Churchill, pure and bright..
Born of stardust, wrapped in light.
At 8.6 lbs, strong and sweet..
With 51 centimetres from head to feet.
Evan and Kayla, hearts aglow..
Hold magic only parents know.
Their pride now shimmers warm and true..
For dreams they wished have now come through.
Welcome, dear Harry, to earth’s embrace..
A brand-new story, a sacred place.
May joy surround you all your days..
May love light up your life always.
Grow bold, grow kind, grow brave and wise..
Chase dreams that glitter in the skies.
And know this always, little man..
You’re cherished deeply..
from your loving Nan.
Harry, a tiger salamander stole a woman’s blackberry
Quickly swam with it out to the bogged down Derby ferry
He was chased by a great crested newt named Terry
Terry wanted the device for his Great Aunt Mary
Mary heard of this and said to her brother Larry
Who wants an obsolete stupid antiquated blackberry?
Larry did not tell her, but he had hired Terry
To steal the blackberry back from the tiger salamander Harry.
handsome Harry hastily harnessed hazardous hayseed Hank
heightening his hellish heebie-jeebies.
Hank helped Harry handle hordes of high-spirited hitchhikers
heaping a hodgepodge of hocus pocus on Honey,
Hannibal’s handsomest hog
Henry Harry Harold Hubert Hedgehog he
Rolls himself into a prickly ball, let’s let him be
When predators come to annoy, torment or play
His prickly thorns discourage them to go far away
“There’ll be hell to pay,” DJT warned today …
‘Give ‘em hell, Harry’s,’ successor’s OK!
Hazy headstrong Henry hesitated to hide his hilarity
Hindering his healthy hopeful humanitarian habits
Helping to enhance Harry Hippo who hastened
Heartfelt harmony hearing headstrong Henry
Me and my chicken
Won't take a lickin'
Whenever he crows
Everyone knows it's
Me and my chicken.
Me and my chicken
Our hearts are tickin'
Cluckin' and pickin'
Here in the thicken
We keep on kickin'
Me and my chicken
Rooster and wiccan
You be awestricken
Your heart will quicken
For me and my chicken.
Harry and Hilda Herald in Halloween
haphazard handsome Halloween Harry
has hurried helpless hapless Hilda of Herrington.
ghosts, ghouls and gruesome ghoulish ghouls gather,
greasing Hilda’s handy hardy robust ready rolling pin.
wizards, witches, werewolves and wild wooly wolverines
want wacky wonders warmed and wise.
sassy suave scintillating superheroes hire Harry and Hilda
to harmoniously Halloween harmonize.
Hunched over Harry had a humpback for sure
He never learned to stand up straight, but his motives were pure
Children ran from him screaming for their mamas.
He felt sad about this, so only made friends with his llamas.
What is wrong with him? Someone asked me one day.
Nothing, I admitted. He is really a nice guy, truly okay.
But he started slouching over when he was in junior high.
No one knows why though; no one knows why.
Some say my heart is cold and dark,
While others say I’m beautiful.
Some say my appearance, without remark,
Brings about chaos and confusion –
As shoppers hurry to the store, a spark
Of urgency in their step, buying up essentials,
For the moment when I fall down in the park.
Some say my soul is beyond desolate,
While others say I’m jubilant,
Leaving ponds perfect for those who wish to skate,
Inspiring jolly snowmen and women,
Who might be named Mr. Harry and Ms. Kate.
Sheryl had never been a fan of public affection.
Harry knew this, but he was hoping.
When they parted she had used the term “boy next door”.
He saw that as a brush off.
She had been attending college for four months.
He had offered to pick her up from the airport.
He was hoping her feelings had changed.
Sheryl’s heart slammed as soon as she saw Harry.
She had now dated many young men.
None of them compared to Harry.
Their eyes met, and he put out his hand for her bag.
She dove right into him, preparing him for the rest of his life.
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