Poems 1985-2021 – Part 3

Figure in Rain (photographer unknown)

BLACK (The curse cannot be ended)

Black below
Grey above
Like river’s flow
Devoid of love

Follow the line
Where it leads
To endless time
Where death feeds

No matter who tries
Black comes back
Hope never flies
The mirror cracks

The wounded soul
Cannot be healed
A bleeding hole
Love congealed

So stumble on
Through life’s rain
To a futile end
Of hurt and pain

© 2017 Chris Harris.

About this Poem

Life is full of ups and downs which we all experience. But for some life is a misery, a dominant feature of their life….and the black dog a dominant feature of that misery and something from which they never escape.

Two women in the light (creator unknown)


A dream, two women, a blurred vision
My dream a moment of indecision
One woman, smaller, walks up the hill.
She turns, looks, her face and eyes still
That look, they say, that could kill

She appears to me as a faint image
A memory of some past damage

The second woman calls a name
Awakening past memories of pain
Hidden, deep, below some shame
Moments past and tears came
Emotions, feelings, suddenly aflame

In my mind forgotten images rise
Of hope crushed among the lies

I seem them still through the mist
I follow, then, I cannot resist
Like the first time we kissed
A primal force pulls me, insists
But they’re gone, nothing exists

© C. Harris 1985

About this Poem

This was a recollection of a recurrent dream. not always identical but always featuring these same two women (whom I never recognised) and always in an unknown beach location. It has no specific meaning or significance, so far as I can tell

Woman with Golden Hair (photographer unknown)















I see your golden hair fly
I hear your golden laugh
I touch your golden skin
You smile your golden smile

We walked the desert lands
We rode the canyons rivers
We paddled the icy seas
And strode the high plains

We laughed and fought together.
Loved and cried and danced
Shared the best, the worst of times
Watched the red and silver sunsets

Down the never ending miles
Sharing the endless road
I was careless of your love
I took your heart and emptied it

Until it was just an empty shell
Then filled it with bitter tears
And, when you were gone
I discovered what I had lost.

© 2020 C. Harris

About this Poem:
There are few people to whom I have talked about their past relationships for whom there are not aspects of some of those relationships that they regret. Something they have said or done that they regret. Unrequited love or desire. Affairs. This is about one of those possible regrets –  which is that of not recognising what it was someone offered to you.

Image: Woman with hand in front of face (credit: churchmentalheallh.org)













I laugh and I smile
But my heart aches

My mouth forms a joke
But my heart breaks

I smile at the crowd
But feel only pain

Surrounded by friends
But absolutely alone

My successes are many
But I see only failure

With everything I want
I have nothing I need

My life is so totally full
But so completely empty

Life so very sweet
And oh so very bitter

© C. Harris 2021

About this Poem

This is about the masks we all wear. The appearances we put on even when we are feeling uncertain, depressed or lonely. How we seek to appear happy when we are not. The sense of being an imposter in a room full of people who appear more successful and who we believe can see right through our own veneer of success and confidence. This is the veneer all of us will wear or have worn at one time (and which, incidentally, is a big part of toxic masculinity).

Woman behind curtains (photographer unknown)

SLIPPING AWAY (The final journey)

I see the sadness in your eyes
The final journey ahead of you lies
A final crossing of the bridge of cries
Your final days just the sound of sighs

Is it regret for a life not fulfilled?
Do you sigh for the love that was killed
For the career that marriage stilled
For all the tears that were spilled

Or perhaps you just cry for life’s joy
For the memory of holding your little boy
For the feel of your very first toy
The love that nothing could destroy

Your beloved sister now long gone
All that’s left is her plaque on the lawn
An empty space in your heart at dawn
A space that leaves you sad and forlorn

The passing of friends leave you alone
Everyone gone you’ve ever known
Your children have left now they’re grown
Every birthday an empty milestone

Of your generation now it’s only you
You wait now for the last rendezvous
Nothing more left in this life to do
Soon you will slip away in the night too

© C. Harris 2021

About this Poem

As I’ve observed my Mum, Aunt, Uncle and their friends and other relatives getting older, as I’ve observed some of them fade away and die, I have often wondered about the sadness this must create. The sadness of being the last or next to last of your generation of friends and family.

That’s not say that there isn’t also joy and pleasure in the things they have always enjoyed; the family in the next generation, nature, food, film or many other things but it has always seemed to me that there must be some ineffable sadness in losing most of those one has loved.

It’s a generation of people that doesn’t talk much about their feelings whether they be joy, grief, sadness, loneliness, love or any other emotion. Do they regret missed opportunities? Lost loves? Abandoned or forgone careers? So much remains unspoken, unexplored.

Figure on pedestal (creator unknown)


The pedestal
Makes them tall
Before the fall

The pedestal
Takes the humble
And makes them vain

The pedestal
Takes the onlooker
And makes them a fool

The pedestal
Takes the writer
Makes them a flack

The pedestal
Takes the gentle soul
And makes them mean

The pedestal
Takes the mythical
Gives them feet of clay

The pedestal
Such a little step
Such a terrible thing

© 2017 Chris Harris

About this poem

Between 1982 and 1989 and again between 2010 and 2015 I worked, frequently, with politicians, those with ambition to be politicians and political staffers and party apparatchiks. One of the things I learned was that no matter the party, the people attracted to being candidates and politicians were narcissistic, egotistical and arrogant. There are exceptions, of course, but, in general, few of those people are really people we should be electing.

A part of the problem is that we frequently adulate these people, putting them on pedestals, hero worshipping some. We treat them with a respect that many have neither earned nor deserve. This tends to simply bring out more of the qualities, in those people, that are least desirable. Even in the best of them it can be their downfall. Power corrupts.

But it’s not just the people on the pedestals that behave badly. We all do. We ignore their worst qualities and accept behaviour that we wouldn’t normally accept. And those who should hold them to account, such as journalists, are blinded by becoming too close to them.

Woman pouts while taking selfie (photographer unknown)

NARCISSISM  – #40  –  In the series, “Writing from the Road; poems, prose and images from 65 years on the Road”

This is my 2021 project to use all my finished writing and some of the 35,000 images in my Flickr archive: https://tinyurl.com/3j5utzm3

To see more visit my blog: 
Home Page: https://www.idiottraveller.com/
Poetry: https://www.idiottraveller.com/travel-poetry/


Look at me
Looking at me

It’s a call for you
Quiet, I’m looking at me

Vote for you?
What’s in it for me?
Oh, Narcissism.

Take a picture
A picture of me

It’s your friend calling;
I’m taking my picture

Give you a hand?
What’s in it for me?
Oh, Narcissism

Look in my soul
Just a reflection of me

It’s your brother calling
Quiet I’m taking my picture

Give you a dollar?
What’s in it for me?
Oh, Narcissism

Look in your eyes?
No, I’m looking at me.

It’s your Father calling
Quiet I’m taking my picture

Do I Love you?
What’s in it for me?
Oh, Narcissism

I don’t see you
I just see me

It’s the hospital calling
Quiet, I’m taking my picture

Pay my taxes?
What’s in it for me?
Oh, Narcissism

It’s your Mother calling
Quiet I’m taking my picture

It was your Mother calling
What did she want?

She called to say goodbye
She died yesterday.

Oh, Narcissism

© C. Harris 2021

About this Poem

It’s interesting to look at the Instagram feeds of some people these days. The number that contain nothing other than endless selfies is extraordinary. Their vision is nothing other than themselves. They may be in the most extraordinarily beautiful places but they are completely focused inwardly.

Not only are they self-absorbed but that self-absorption is accentuated by the nature of the images. Some photograph themselves in few, if any, clothes. It’s a form of soft porn and, for young teens, a form, almost, of kiddy porn. Facial expressions reflect what people see in the beauty and fashion industry, posed and pouting. 

All of that is a reflection of the superficiality of our society where looks are more important than substances and where celebrities and “influencers” have millions of followers but those who should be celebrated (nurses, teachers, ambos) work long hours, for little, in relative obscurity. 

#Writingfromtheroad, #poems, #poetry, #travelpoems, #poem, #poet, #poetrycommunity, #writing, #writingcommunity, #love, #travel, #travelblogger, #travelphotography, #death, #life, #beauty #abandonment #heartbreak #wastelands #dying #greed #hate #climatechange #thegreatdying #extinction #dreams #obsession #longgoodbye #endofdays #pain

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑