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Interlude

This section contains poems which were written after I left college but before I started writing poetry again. There are only a few poems here, but I will add others if I come across them.

When we hurt, when we really hurt, we do not sing but only lie there numb. When we heal, just a little, we can speak of that pain.

The hours go by and a day is gone.
The days go by and a month is gone.
The months go by and a year is gone.
Does it hurt any less?
Do you care any less?
A little, but only a little
And the scars will take forever.

This is meant to be sung as a jingle to the tune of the old RC Cola jingle. It was inspired by the book, Karma Cola.

Karma Cola hits the spot
Eightfold way, that's a lot
Bodhidarmha and sutras too
Karma Cola is the cola for you

This is another, er, song. It is quite catchy if you haven't any alternatives.

Oh, we are Boring,
Boring, Boring, and Dull,
Certified Public Accountants since 1789.

We love to work with numbers
They fill our hearts with song
We do people's taxes
And we always do them wrong,

For we are Boring,
Boring, Boring, and Dull,
Certified Public Accountants since 1789.

Copyright © 1988 by Richard Harter

This is a longer version of a couplet I had written whilst in college. It had been lost for many years but David Moews (bless him) sent me a copy. Form your own opinion.

In the fields of Hell where the grass grows high
Are the graves of dreams allowed to die.
A neglected grave with a fallen slate
Bears the epitaph that tells their fate,
I could have been, but I am not.
I am the dream that you forgot.
In our busy times we fail to choose
To nourish dreams, which we then lose
And the dreams we lose are left to lie
In the fields of Hell where the grass grows high.

Copyright © 1988 by Richard Harter

Copyright © 1996, 1998 by Richard Harter
This page was last updated September 11.