Fear of tomorrow’s salvation

We walk a long staircase
spiraling down a shaft
of darkness.

A metaphor for the decent
step by step of life, of memory,
of being.

We cry painfully as babies
in the lonely stillness
of waking.

The expressed desire to be
hidden carried in a placenta
of forever.

Eyes open blinded by paradise
not seeing its sham
of illusion.

The stimulation quivers
eternity’s shifting currents
of creation.

A pricked finger reveals
a vibrant red drop the nectar
of life.

The fluid soon will dry and crack
to be scattered by the rush
of tomorrow.

I fear that there is only darkness
in death’s waking illusion
of life.

Where being is the creation
for today’s forever promise
of tomorrow’s unfulfilled salvation.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour


Your lips are divine
creations, American Beauty
rose petals, moist, opening
to loves jeweled morning dew,
beckoning with the red of passion.

A whisper of breath
from between those parted
chalices of desire, nectar,
the perfume of your heart,
a pulsating moment of completion.

The thought of caressing
their velvet fullness excites,
igniting a fire deep inside,
spreading warmth to every limb,
every particle of this body.

Anticipation is a quivering,
slow motion pressing of flesh,
a sweet taste of nourishing honey,
the cascading rapture of bliss,
a brief soaring on angel wings, Heaven.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

Build A Bridge

Suppose some one said to you,
“You can build a bridge,
A bridge to where ever you want.”
Where would you build it?
Would it be from the shore of criticism,
To the shore of appreciation?
From the slum of intolerance,
To the beaches of acceptance?
Or would you be more lofty?
A span from ideological conflict,
To the high peaks of understanding?
Maybe from the sewer of immorality,
To the hope of boundless charity.
Where would you build it?
Would you even know how to begin?
Maybe – just maybe if you pick up,
One stone and asked others to help,
You could begin to make such,
A magnificent structure.
You might include our sisters and brothers,
All the other creatures on this planet,
They would help if you give them the chance.
Oh! That would be so very marvelous.
You know, you can build a bridge.
You can!
It only takes one person to begin.
One stone, others will follow.
When will you start?

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

If I Were

If I were a day of gray,
Streaked with cold and wind,
I would give the earth Spring rain,
So flowers would bloom again.

If I were a gypsy rover,
Dressed in a flowered silken shirt,
I would have strong sinewed arms,
To shield the weak from hurt.

If I were a blue bird,
Chirping on a willow branch,
I would sing a song of happiness,
To lighten each heart perchance.

If I were the one you loved,
I would wear a broad sunshine smile,
Gladly shouldering your lifes burdens,
Along our journey’s rocky miles.

If I were your mate forever time,
In a castle of purest light,
I would change your darkest dream,
To banish your nightmare fright.

If only I had the power,
To make ‘ifs’ come true.
I would bind your heart with chains of gold,
And give my eternal love to you.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

The Woods

The woods are calling to me,
They know that I will respond.
So I tread the path to my stone cabin,
On the bank of a lost creek pond.

The forest exhales the breath of life,
As it caresses the passing breeze.
Tenderly cuddling the zephyr,
In every shade and size of leaves.

It is under those giant shadows,
Where Nature’s energies quietly flow.
There I come face to face with myself,
In conversation with my searching soul.

The moss and ferns whisper my name,
Wild daisies twirl their golden heads
Butterflies are beginning to emerge,
From the womb of their birthing beds.

The years have taken and given,
None have ever diminished these friends.
Where the dawn and twilight of living,
For all of us begins and ends.

Copyright: 2008 Donald Harbour


Are you?
As one stands on a street,
Watching the cars pass by.
Where are they going?
Do you care?
Are you?
Will you step out,
To participate in this life?
Will you decide?
Can you make a difference?
Are you?
Think, will you speak up?
When will you speak?
Is your tongue coated with dogma?
Is this your petty conventional beliefs?
Are you?

Copyright: 2008 Donald Harbour

I’ll Be There

Out by the creaking garden gate,
A Jacob’s Coat climbs and grows,
On either side it decorates,
With blossoms of multi-color rose.

Each year its heady perfume,
Dust the cool air of Spring nights,
With such delicate fragrance,
The Fireflies dance from pure delight.

Above the trees the full moon rises,
Gently awakening sleepy heads,
Of all the forest creatures,
Dozing in their leafy beds.

I gaze out on the garden,
To marvel with surprise,
Am I awake or is it a dream,
Displayed before my eyes?

Nature is filled with joy,
The garden lawn a Grecian stage,
The Bearded Iris rises up
And courts the Red Lip Sage.

Azaleas of every color,
Sway ‘neath the old Poplar tree,
Anxious for the dawn of day,
To feed nectar to the honey bee.

Plum tree blossoms fall about,
A cover of red confetti on the ground,
While the pond lily pads are occupied,
With frogs croaking a raucous sound.

Dahlias parade in perfect rows,
High heeled dancers in perfect form,
Nodding petal feathered brows,
Their slender leaves hooked arm-in-arm.

A possum smiles approvingly,
From a cedar by the split rail fence.
As a raccoon stops to freshen its breath,
With a nip of a Broad Leaf Mint.

To be allowed this mystical glimpse,
Of the wonderful life of this earth,
Is to be given an unceasing present
So immense one cannot estimate its worth.

A peace washed over my person,
A cleansing from heart to skin.
I knew that I had seen eternity,
And, that I would be born again.

Each of us will one day return,
To that place from which we came.
No, it is not from our mothers arms,
Or the father that gave us a name.

We are born to this cloud scudded globe,
To its flesh we each belong,
From the dust of creation we were made,
We return at the finish of our life song.

When I have passed this moment in time,
And my spirit has left empty this room,
You have but to wait till the Spring,
I’ll be there in the Jacob’s Coat bloom.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

Who Are You

Who are you?
Silently you approached,
Softly you turned the latch,
You opened the door to my heart.
I still do not know you,
Your voice I hear,
Your words are the words,
I hold on my finger tips.
The poetry of your thoughts,
Dances in the playground of my mind,
Who are you?
I see a tenderness in your beauty,
The charm of your smile,
You beckon me yet you are distant.
How am I to sustain this moment?
This effervescence of air you breath?
I soar, you lift me above this world,
Dancing with the stars.
I am enraptured by your grace,
Your fragrance melts my soul.
Who are you?

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour