K. Morris's Blog, page 560

There was a poet who lacked the art

There was a poet who lacked the art
To hide what lived in his heart.
He could not conceal.
His verse was gritty and real,
So they pilloried him for his art.

There was a young lady named Jane

There was a young lady named Jane
Who’s stiletto got stuck in a drain.
Her best friend Lou
Lent her a shoe,
And the stiletto remained in the drain!

Competition to win a signed copy of “My Old Clock I Wind” by K Morris

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I am giving away 1 free, signed copy of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”.

In order to be in with a chance of winning, please answer the following question, which novel begins as follows ”1801—-I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with”.

The Rules

1. Please email your answers to me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com.
2. Please put “Competition” in the subject line of your message.
3. Please do not leave your answer i...

Those with greying hair

Those with greying hair
Linger where
Fallen leaves proliferate.
It is growing late.
Dare I broach
The final gate
We all must approach?

A conker I found

A conker I found
On the ground.
Still in it’s prickly clothes,
Yet to be disclosed.

“I aught
To leave you here” I thought.
“You may, for all I know
Grow into a great tree”.

But another voice in me
Said “some other will take you away, if I leave you here on the grass
For many people here pass”.
So I took you home
As my own.

On my sill
You sit, waiting to spill
Your seed.
Was it need
Or greed
That made the virile
Sterile.
Would that I could
Get to the root
Of this drying fruit.

His heart was soft

His heart
Was soft
In part.
But the devil coughed,
So he did what he did
And further downward slid.

The Performer

I scorn
To perform
Like a circus seal.
Slippery as an eel
They are.
A girl may go far
In the ring …

“It is just a little thing
To turn a trick. Do you know
Ms so-and-so?
She was shy
And would “rather die”,
But now it comes easy as water off a duck’s back to her.
Yes people will stare
At you,
I don’t deny that this is true.
But all is fair
In love and war
And there are good tips
For girls who do tricks”.

The Crooked Tree

Whichever way the wind went
The crooked tree bent.
I spent
Much time gazing at that tree,
Which looked back at me
And seemed to say
“As sure as night follows day,
We shall bend together
With the prevailing weather”.

The Hill

The hill she must climb
Time after time,
And look over the top
To see what is not.

L’Envoi, by Rudyard Kipling

THE smoke upon your altar dies,
The flowers decay.
The Goddess of your sacrifice
Has flown away.
What profit then to sing or slay
The sacrifice from day to day ?

“We know the shrine is void,” they said,
“The Goddess flown –
“Yet wreaths are on the altar laid –
“The Altar-Stone
“Is black with fumes of sacrifice,
“Albeit She has fled our eyes.

“For, it may be, if still we sing
“And tend the shrine,
“Some deity on wandering wing
“May there incline;
“And finding all in order meet,
“Stay while w...