K. Morris's Blog, page 475
July 15, 2018
Terse Is By No Means Worse
Disclaimer: many of my own poems could be construed as falling into the category of short verse. It could therefore be argued, with some justification, that I have an axe to grind here.
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Sometimes, on reading a long poem, I feel that had it been shorter its words would have exerted a greater impact on me as a reader. Yet, as pointed out in this article on Magma Poetry, it is rare for short poems to win poetry competitions, https://magmapoetry.com/writing-short-poems/.
In my opinion, Ernes...
There Was A Young Man Called Rory
There was a young man called Rory
Who was a romantic Tory.
He met a Socialist girl
(Her name was Pearl),
But that’s another story!
There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who said “I am in love with you!”.
So she lent me some money
(That sweet, darling honey)
And now I’m in love with Sue!
Cheap
Cheap
Girls shoes.
I choose
Not to keep.
July 14, 2018
Oh Would The Night
Oh would the night
Wrap me tight
In her longed for arms,
There I would take
Delight.
In her untried charms.
But she
Would forsake
Me
Come break
Of day
And I
Should sigh
And go dally
With Sally
Or Fay.
Is Poetry Socialist?
A little while back, a friend and I sat enjoying a curry and a bottle of wine. At some point during our conversation my friend remarked on how poetry is, in some sense “socialist” or “left-wing”. At the time I said that I didn’t agree with his perspective, and our conversation moved on to other topics.
Rather than entering into an exposition of my own views on the above question, I would be interested in hearing those of my readers. Is poetry in some sense “Socialist” or “left-wing”? If so w...
Hot
The sun
Is hot
And my thoughts run
To where they ought not.
Short clothes
And her toes
Bare
To the teasing air
There Was A Young Lady Called Joan
There was a young lady called Joan
Who called me up on her phone.
When I asked, “who are you?”
She replied, “believe me, its true!
I’m Joan, calling you on my phone!”.
There was a young lady called Joan
Who called me up on her phone.
When she said, “is that Lou?”
I replied, “no, but thank you
For calling me up on your phone!”.
A Rake Reflects
Waking up next to another
Lover
Who is not so,
I wish her to go
But the gentleman inside
And my pride
Say no
For it is not yet
Light.
But oh
How I regret
Last night!
The taxis run
Come
Star or sun
So
She could go,
This “friend”
Who’s name or end
I do not know.
Later, the taxi will arrive
And drive
Her somewhere,
As to where
I neither know nor care.
Perchance
The driver will think
(as he suppresses a wink)
“She did dance
But not in romance”,
Or maybe, having taken her before
From door to do...
