K. Morris's Blog, page 484
June 12, 2018
Helping the Homeless
This is an excellent cause. The money goes to a charity for the homeless which avoids the risk (present when giving money directly to homeless people) that they will spend it on drugs or drink. Much better to buy the book than give money to individuals. However buying food (or a hot drink) for someone who is homeless does not risk the misuse of the giver’s donation. I entirely support those who come across homeless people buying food or a hot drink. Having said that I have, on occasions broke...
June 11, 2018
Fantasies
We strive
To achieve
Our ideal
Fantasy, and grieve
For a girl’s heel
Is a fragile thing.
String
Will fray.
And our play
Looses it shine
For once “mine”
We soon come to see
The pedestrian she,
Who retrieves her socks
As the clock
Mocks
June 10, 2018
There Was A Young Lady Called Divine
There was a young lady called Divine
Who drank nothing but wine.
This was perfectly okay
Though I’m sorry to say
That she stole the communion wine!
Bingo Wings by Emily Roberts
My thanks to Emily Roberts for her kind permission to reproduce her poem “Bingo Wings”. This poem is copyright and may not be reproduced without the explicit written permission of Emily Roberts:
Bingo Wings
People with Bingo Wings are of low birth.
PAUSE
Am I looking for a job or am I just looking for a safe space?
Is my coffee routine the only routine I’ve got left?
I want a new look, …I dream of a…re-style, or shall I just shave
My hair off, like I’m being pruned.
We pull our hair out in w...
Ghosts Call
Ghosts call.
We pirouette
And fall.
How can I regret
When others see
Nought but me?
Perhaps there are no ghosts at all.
Yet
I do recall
Many a pirouette,
Stumble,
Fumble
And fall
THE HUNGRY FLEA
A flea that had nothing to eat
Jumped up onto everyone’s feet
It sucked lots of blood
Said “Ooh that’s so good”
Then bit them again on the seat
There Was A Young Lady Called Chauntele
There was a young lady called Chauntele
Who I knew more than well.
Of an evening late
We met at her gate
Strawberries for to sell.
There was a young lady called Chauntele
Who I knew more than well.
Of an evening late
We met at her gate,
But I promised not to tell …
It Is Summer Yet
It is summer yet
The leaves can still be found
Strewing the ground.
Shall I regret
The gray hair
Where
There remains no trace of brown?
The longest day of the year
Will soon be here
Ere Autumn throws
Her clothes
All haphazard down.
I shall in beauty drown
For our little moon
Is gone too soon
While nature’s store
Remains as before.
Sex Objects
Some men do not require
A doll to speak,
Tis their desire
That she be meek.
Some men prefer plastic
Paid for in store
And with morals elastic
They paw
And want more.
Dolls play
Then go their way.
But men can find
more
Of their kind
In store
To temporarily bind.
Dolls may rue
Though tis true
That men do so too
For many have found
A truth profound,
That they are to the wheel
Of pleasure bound
And with each deal
With each mechanical removal of a dress
They feel
Less and less.
June 9, 2018
My Shirt Blows
My shirt blows
In the morning air.
My thought goes
To where
Girls with long tresses
In summer dresses
Display
The bare.
Lad and lass
Will pass
Away,
But I have all this today.
