Early Works - Universal Life
You wake up in the morning
and put your hands behind your head
as another day awaits your eager mind,
but what job would you choose to find
butcher, baker or maybe a preacher
writing striking sermons
to the multitude it would be read
of the peaceful life that eludes
without their wars and faults.
Maybe not a preacher but a baker instead
baking pies, cakes and bread
wedding cakes, rolls and steak pies,
but even baking has its constant ties.
Back to the reality your in
maybe a lawyer you might have been
questioning the witnesses
that the prosecution has brought forward
to help beat your case.
No its back to the drawing board in your mind
to etch another job to find,
maybe a policeman’s job would be fine
catching murders and thieves
by clues he or she leave behind,
making sure lorries don’t overload,
reforming the bad to good
by helping the deeply misunderstood.
However, even a policeman’s job has pit falls;
maybe a poet’s job isn’t bad at all.
Writing romantic words of love
about the moon, sun and stars above.
Saying words descriptive and sweet
to each girl you meet,
writing a philosophy on life
with its hated and strife,
acting a rebel to society
with banners and placard, not for me.
Maybe a secret agent for me
travelling to different countries
photographing secret documents,
then maybe we’re not all Derek Flints or James Bond,
then why not a Beatle maybe
with lots and lots of lovely loot
and loads and loads of fame
with everyone knowing your name.
No, I’ll just lay here and dream again.
Date unknown (Probably the late 1960s or early 1970s)
poem by David Harris
Added by Poetry Lover
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