K. Morris's Blog, page 112
November 19, 2022
My Dirty Weekend
When a close friend of my girlfriend
Invited us to spend a dirty weekend,
We entered the deep wood
And fell in the mud!
But lets return to our dirty weekend …!
Abandoned
They couldn’t stay long.
A remembrance of hands
And an abandoned hairband,
Kept for a while,
Brings a sad smile
To a man’s ageing face
At a girl’s lost grace.
November 18, 2022
Work Meeting
As the meeting neared it’s end
My old friend
Who had not
Yet said a word,
(Leastways, I heard
him not),
Interrupted, and did say,
“Tick tock”.
Yet the clock
Is forever ticking away
our day,
Though oft we heed him not.
November 15, 2022
My Friend Miss Khan
I know a young lady named Khan
Who invites me into her old barn.
In the new stable
Miss Mabel is able,
While Khan works hard in that barn.
A Clown’s Sad Demise
When a clown whose name was Moat
Sang as he sank in a boat,
His friend Guy
Began to cry,
At the loss of his new boat …
November 13, 2022
The Dissolute Young Man and His Lute
There once was a man most dissolute
Who liked to play on his lute.
When the young women came round
You would hear a sweet sound
As he skillfully played on his lute!
Poet Kevin Morris’s Poems Included in Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology 2021-2022
I am delighted to announce that around 20 of my poems have been included in the Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology for 2021-2022. The anthology is available in paperback from lulu.com and can be purchased HERE
Among those of my poems included, is “Fallen Blossom”, which is reproduced below:
I found
Blossom on the ground
Which brought
To mind the thought,
We all,
As the blossom, fall.
Leigh Who Has Composed a Poem All About Me
A young lady whose name is Leigh
Has composed a poem all about me.
Her verse is so bad
That its driven critics mad,
And now they are all blaming me …!
Lou Who Wore 1 Sock and 1 Shoe
There was a young lady named Lou
Who wore 1 sock and one shoe.
On the other foot
She carefully put
A clock which matched with Lou’s shoe!
Swallowed by Dark
I am swallowed by dark
In the churchyard at night.
Then a brief beam of the floodlight
Shows the graves all stark and white.
My feet return to peopled street
And I drink of life’s wine
For I must smile
While I have time.
