“Into Your Thought” by David Davis

A Valentine’s gem from David “Harley” Davis

If I send you a flower

You can throw it away

But the thought will not wither

Only linger

 I could send you a timepiece

And by your neglect stop its pace

But not forevermore

The thought will keep its own time

Vintage key and letterI could send you a note

And by your hand alone

It lay crumpled in waste

But the thought lay indelibly there

I could send you my heart

And unrequited it breaks

And no thought to heal

And I perish evermore.

“I’m Calm” — Tribute to David “Harley” Davis

Stay in the BoatThe world lost a great poet, photographer, and artist this year when my husband, David “Harley” Davis, passed away in July from complications resulting from leukemia. How I miss his talent and creativity, his uncanny ability to find and bring home the unusual and rare antiques, and introduce the rest of us to ideas and worlds we never knew existed. While going through his many treasures and writings this summer, it was especially touching for me to come across poems he’d written that I’d never read before, including this one, a message directly to me from eternal worlds. What better way to pay tribute on my blog, I thought, than by sharing his own words, written October 3, 2014 from his hospital bed, at the beginning of his treatments. These words have been a secret treasure to me these last few months, but it’s time to share them with others now. I’ll let his own words take it from here:


“I’m Calm”


I’m calm as a summer morning

A time when dews distill

On ground alert with creatures

That graze on a distant hill.


I’m calm as whispering heather

That sing in a highland breeze

I’m calm as a crystal lake

With images that mirror me.


No greater peace have I then

Where angels came to tell

I’m calm as a summer morning

When Father found me well.


Fear not this sad refrain then

Time goes ever on

Beats warmly rich responding

Our hearts are ever calm.


No love is lost forever

No psalm is silent sung

No bells go unnoticed

When they ring together as one.


I’m calm to see my Master

Embrace him, linger there

I’m calm to see my mother

And enjoy her perfect fair.


I’m calm as a summer morning

Feet dangle in celestial foam

On heavenly beaches lapping

A familiar din back home.


At last the stars are sparkling

And brighten my heavenly shore

I’m calm and await my darling

And will love thee ever more.

Focus on Poetry: “The Elk”

The icy, cold gray post-holiday winter season can be made so much more warm and beautiful with a cozy blanket and a powerful, gracefully written poem. To that end, I bring you “The Elk”, a brand new, original poem by my husband David Davis, who goes by Harley Davis. It’s a fine example of using alliteration and lilting rhythm to conjure up a serene, wild setting and a frozen, magical moment in time. I love how the final stanza brings the reader into the ‘now’, almost making one wonder, did it really happen or was it a dream?


Bugling elk in Yellowstone

“The Elk” by Harley Davis

The breaking of crusting snow
and the chill of rushing wind
the clatter of brittle leaves below
I pulled my wrap tighter in.

The frozen moisture of my deep breath
obscures my stealth uneasy walk
it forms a veil upon my chest –
like a winter scarf where warmth is not.

I steal around the weathered wood
too close as a snag takes my arm
now gray from days it has long withstood
in the woods near my grandfather’s farm.

The snag gives a snap and me a start
and a jabbing finger is the thump in my chest
adding threat upon threat to my now racing heart
and angst in this challenging quest.

Yet I find the majestic creature there
and my deep breath is held within
while a snort from the beast parted the air
as a loud unpleasant din.

He raised his massive head my way
I raised my lens to meet his glance
and shuttered to think would spook him away
and lose my stealthy wooded chance

to capture the beast and there mount him
on the wall in the hall of my home
but I shifted my weight on a weathered limb
and at once stood in the deep woods alone.

He sprang into life and targeted me
as the clattering shutter fired on
the view in my finder of him running free
as my words condensed on the air, “he’s gone”

I put two fingers between my teeth
and placed my tongue the way I was taught
the shrill whistle arose beneath
and stopped the beast where he did not

advance deeper into the thicketed wood
and spoil my last and rarest and best
I took aim again and frozen stood
brought the lens slowly down on his chest

and fired the trigger that shattered the air
with shutter-clatter that day in the wood
when I stole the creature’s majestic heir
the image is silent but the memory was good.

That memory now hangs in the hall on the wall
of my cabin near the home of my kin
the beast still reigns and bugles his call
inviting me to come back again.


Tea Time Poetry for Valentines


By David Kimball Davis

Butterfly wings gently flutter, filling spring with softness

Sweet lips of lovers lustre in the shining sun

The taste of honey sweetens a savored kiss that’s left

A pounding in my heart and a joy that’s never done

Gentle breezes brush my face, filling my chest with freshness.

The wisp of clouds hush the hues of a brilliant sky.

Beneath the waving tips of trees I watch them passing.

Everlasting, as with love for her lying there nearby.

A smile that brightens cloud-filled skies

That lightens hearts and fills me with hope and gladdened eyes

Enabling me to see beyond eternity

To a place we will share all of our joy and all of our time and all of our love

A gentle voice that shares golden words falling from lips speaking

Only choice thoughts, and reaching

with tender kindness that I am glad to be familiar with

I hear them echoing far into my heart

I hear them coming from her sweet smile

The gift so freely given I have willingly returned all the while

And as the sun sets this day

It will ever and always be this way

Warm winds caress my heart and remind

me of holding you beneath the Eiffel Tower

A gentle breeze wafts through and fixes my

memory of Paris, an Autumn love.

One carefully placed kiss in a quaint room

on the Auteuil was passion-filled and

enriched my thoughts of forever with you.

Oh, we anxiously await another day, a day

that is yet to come, where our hands will

swing as we stroll along the Seine.

Paris is only Paris, if it is Paris with you.

Poetry Out Loud

I had the privilege yesterday of acting as one of the judges at the local junior high school’s poetry recitation competition. This was a precursor to a state- and national-level competition called Poetry Out Loud. I had not heard of it before, but it was a very impressive thing. The students had chosen poems from an approved list, memorized them, and had to recite them before the student body. They are judged on accuracy, with a deduction for even one word being incorrect, level of difficulty, physical presence, voice & articulation, and dramatic appropriateness. The students had obviously worked very hard, and all gave great performances. And of course, I love that they got to study poetry so in-depth. Good job, Diamond Fork Junior High students, and congratulations to the winners.

Here is one of the poems recited. It is by a favorite poet of mine, Robert Frost:

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Selections from “In the Key of D”

Perhaps you’ve met my husband David as a photographer ~ his photos are featured on Shelly Davis Books. Now I introduce to you, David Kimball Davis, the poet.


One day was filling me

with anxious curiosity

so I gathered up my thoughts

pack-rat like into a box

which had no hinges, handles, locks


I tucked it tight beneath my arm

made my way around with charm

found an open mind – walked in

and dared to share my box with them.


Why did the poet die?

You know his words are yet unsolved.

Will the where and why ever be resolved?

And some hearts will hear

what that heart was meant to know.

It’s the magic in one’s ear

the poets leave before they go.

A vail of watery lace ribbons down,

hides a frown that sad embrace had found.

And a memory of you finds a rift

forms a pool wherein a gift is held within me.

And you shall always pass as water fresh and pure

but sure bound for sea.

We watched colors dance around

in fashioned places where they found

significance for our eye.

The pigments lay a fragrant face

on canvas stretched at corners brace

now blooming on some wall nearby.

If only you knew

what sweeps the hand through

the hour

and keeps

the spring taut

Who pulls the weight

and minds the gait

of pendulum

and of passing.

A wrinkled brow marked me sad

as deeply etched lines bore the weight of a broken heart

and did add to the pain of finding you away – on the very day

I chose to say I love you, you were gone. So I left my love a rose

and it wilted in an awkward pose as if saying hurry home

and tend your garden there, so love and flowers 

won’t die in despair.

When crimson skies

share both our eyes,

and holding hands is rushed surprise,

blends with our walks and long poignant talks

will thus bring us closer still.

And –

as always will.

And I’ll take this risk

to offer a gentle kiss

and watch our eyes close

and so…

is how I hope it goes.

“When Stars Die”

Light is sometimes deceiving

though shining seems

but only beams

are reaching my eye

In light of night’s believing

there was something real

that I sought to feel

once came reaching from the sky

It was merely an image

of something that burned

so long ago.

Love is the moon

waxing and waning

cycling through phases

yet always returning 

to full.

Of the tides that I recall

none so gently imprint the image

of love and laughter

as do those we’ve shared together.

waves now breaking in.

washing prints that we left then,

yet leaving undisturbed all our fond


and those impressions will last


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