Harry Strudwick, is an international person of mystery. A nom de plume, a ghost, Harry is a regular contributor to the Bass Coast Poetry Wall but no-one knows who or where he/she is.
A POEM ABOUT NOTHING?
I looked out of my window this morning
As the sun was rising over distant trees
Beyond the glass another day was dawning
And the world was gently stirring in the breeze
And as I watched the morning gently stirring
I wondered why, and if, it was really there
And if I had not been there to watch life’s wellspring
Would it vanish like a mumbled line of prayer?
A bird was singing, out of sight, unseen
As I stood beside the window looking out
And then it stopped, and had it ever been?
I wondered, then lost in nagging doubt
And then I turned, and I walked away, and I left it
And behind me it was, or was not, there
A beautiful world, sparkling, sunlit
To believe in, maybe, if I dare
Woken dogs, whining dogs
Want their morning walk dogs
Walked, hungry dogs
Now they want their breakfast dogs
Mournful dogs, lonely dogs,
Left to go to work dogs
Excited dogs, wagging dogs
Time for evening run dogs
Happy dogs, sleeping dogs,
Fed and walked and loved dogs