Dawud Wharnsby Poetry

"For Whom The Troubadour Sings"

Dawud's song lyric anthology is available at fine booksellers in Canada, the USA, and the United Kingdom.

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The One

All the scriptures
bound together,
sweeping all the freckles of the sky,
into one eternal light.
The Way.
The One.

To The Girl In The Necktie

(If You Remember Who You Were)

All the girls I loved but never told,
are married now to other men more bold.
We can't walk back

through those halls of old.
Regrets, like tea,

brew bitter and cold.

Snow

Please go away snow!
You’re pretty, but grass is warm
under naked toes.

"A Picnic Of Poems ~ In Allah's Green Garden"

30 illustrated poems and nursery rhymes,

with accompanying bonus song CD ~ for families with children ages 2 - 7.

Buy Book & CD

Estimated North American release: January 2012

Haiku For

A Woman I Knew

Finding her in crowds,
as stark as light in darkness,
warmth will surround you.

viii

Once again I had
a dream in the night, of you
sitting `neath a tree.

Tonight when I sleep,
I will dream of you again
and wake up smiling.

Burial Ground

Nothing seems profound.
Sleep comes easily.
Sobbing in the snow.
Nowhere else to go.
Burial ground is wide.
Nowhere left to hide.
Tears and prayers are free,
falling on the ground,
and nothing is profound.

Embrace The Night

The lovers across from my window,
embrace in their kitchen after they finish their evening dishes.
I wash my plate
and hang my towel
on the fridge door to dry.

Let Me In On Your Secrets

Women give me loose-leaf sheets
of poetry to read.
Their hearts are open for me to explore.
I walk quietly through the rows of words,
my eyes groping the private parts

of their past.
I am not the one to prescribe penance or provide therapy,
for I too am a romantic, lonely soul
in need of strong eyes to hold my paper,
and read my poem.

Evolution

Evolved to apes - we dance and swing,
like monkeys in a toy shop,
breaking everything.

Picture Of Children

Paint me a picture
of the children out playing.
Soon they will be grown.

Religion

Wearing religion like a new, strong perfume.
You think your sweet - but really,
you just give everyone else headache.

Autumn Afternoon

I sit in my armchair and pass the time,
all the snowy afternoon.
I sit in my armchair and wait the day
for the snowy moon,
and you.

all poetry by d.h.wharnsby

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