K. Morris's Blog, page 539

Online Distractions

Yesterday evening (Sunday 26 November), found me contentedly sitting on the sofa in my living room, reading a recently purchased braille edition of Robert Frost’s “North of Boston”, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3026/3026-h/3026-h.htm. On turning to the final poem in “North of Boston”, which is entitled “Good Hours” https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/good-hours, I came across the word profanation. Being wholly unfamiliar with the word I was keen to ascertain its meaning. I had, however turn...

There Was A Young Man Named Howl

There was a young man named Howl
Who owned a tawny owl.
Each night it would hoot
As he played the flute,
Which made his neighbours scowl!

Bent Magnets And Bad Pennies

Bent magnets attract the attention
Of bad pennies,
Although I know
Not which came first,
Nor which is worst

Did You Hear The Owl?

“Did you hear the owl?” I said, as we sat in my living room.
(It will be over soon.
The prey caught
I thought).

“No” you replied.
Twice more the bird cried
But you heard
Not a word
He said.

The bed
Was hot
And the owl you did not see
Forgot by me.

Swans

I must confess
That many a girl in a short dress
Has set my pulse racing.
I am forever chasing
The elusive swan,
Who is here then gone
Into the night sky.

I
Am a dry
Watering hole temporarily wet
By girls I forget,
‘Ere I move on
To another swan.

There Was A Young Man Named Locke

There was a young man named Locke
Who found a mermaid under a rock.
When he asked her name
She hid in shame
As she wasn’t wearing a frock!

Card

I maintain
That the card
Hit the hard
Bottom of the pillar box.
Yet I retain,
Here in my hand
That self-same card,
With crumpled envelope
I can not seal.

Nymphs Never Die

Nymphs never die.
They fade
Into woodland glade,
While I
Wait in fear
For nymphs to reappear.

Beauty Or Duty?

Beauty or duty?
We live but once so why die
For an ideal
When one may feel
Lips so soft
They awake
An ache
Beyond soothing?

The devil coughed,
“Excuse me”
Said she
“But time is moving
On and I must be away.
Unless, of course you ask me
To stay …”.

Stay A While

I beg you, stay a while
For I am without guile
And ‘tis no crime
To hide oneself in rhyme