K. Morris's Blog, page 402

I Once Had A Very Good Friend

I once had a very good friend
Who said, “our friendship will one day end”.
His words gave me much sorrow
So some money I did borrow,
From that man who was once my friend …

There Was A Young Lady Named Samantha

There was a young lady named Samantha
Who ran away with a Panther.
But the panther got bored
And said, “good lord,
I must lose this young lady Samantha!”.

Too Much Thinking

You left me alone
At the top of the street,
And I went home
While your feet,
Encased in shoes
You did not choose
To lose
Took you back
Down your own track.
Or perhaps I lack
The ability to understand
Your hug and hand.

Now I wait
And ponder on sense
And the present,
Or the past tense.
Is it too late?
A pointless question to state
Perhaps.
To collapse
Into meloncholy
Is folly.

I have a choice
To be morose
Or falsely jolly.
‘Tis better to use my voice
And ask than to drown
My frown
In a glass...

She Sits By The Window – A Poem By Walt Page on Vita Brevis

Walt's Writings

(Photo courtesy of Pixabay)

I am again honored and humbled to announce that my poem, She Sits By The Window, was published this morning on Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine! My thanks and gratitude once again to Brian Geiger, Editor of Vita Brevis, for finding my work worthy of inclusion.

Via She Sits By The Window – Poetry By Walt Page

She sits by the window
Hour after hour
Waiting and watching
Her loneliness chills her
And she shivers
But she still sits
Hoping and praying
It’s 19...

The Temperature Has Dropped

The temperature has dropped.
The pendulum chops
Second upon second away.
As I write.

I think
On how we did drink
And at lovers play
That night
In the warm pub.
Oh how I would,,
That ’twere yesterday.

There Was A Young Lady Named Nell

There was a young lady named Nell
Who composed a villanelle.
But it wasn’t quite right
So she stayed up all night
Perfecting her villanelle.

Lonliness

Most things can be bought.
Peas and rice
Are nice,
And vice
That too can be bought.

I know
That one can buy
A semblance ,
A resemblance
Of love, though
Cupid’s arrow
Is never shot.

A hot
Date will thrill
The man of pleasure
But, at his leisure
A thought
May, perchance
Come, “’tis fun
To dance
With the escort.
To hold her tight
Throughout the night.
But, come the morning light …
Love can not be bought”.

Or perhaps he doesn’t care
And, with his graying hair
He continues down pleasure’s primr...

Whilst Out In The Fields Last Week

Whilst out in the fields last week
I heard a sheep speak.
Having come from the pub
I was full of drink and grub,
But that sheep it really did speak!

I Know A Young Lady Named Nell

I know a young lady named Nell
Who frequents an unmentionable hotel.
Though the food it is dire
She has stoked the fire,
Of many a guest in that unmentionable hotel …!

—

I know a young lady named Nell
Who frequents an unmentionable hotel.
When she woke me at dawn
I said, with a yawn,
“Nell, you should clean this hotel!”.

The Poet’s Muse

The poet’s muse
Wears down at heel shoes
And sleeps
And weeps.
Yet, in his poem she is beauty personified
Who never cries.
And when she and the poet dies
She may live on
Through future ages,
Preserved midst the pages
Of some book.

Though she be gone
Readers will look
And see a perfect view
Where no muddy shoe
Was ever worn
And no heart
Was ever torn.
Or perhaps his art
Will be true
To his readers
And to his muse
In her muddy shoes.