K. Morris's Blog, page 593

I Wonder Why

A group of girls walks by.
I sigh
And wonder why
My love most true
Is not you, or you, or you!

Cold

The kiss that lingers
When the other’s fingers
Are cold
Can hold
No joy
For girl or boy.

There Was A Young Lady Called June

There was a young lady called June
Who wished to make a fortune.
She opened a money-making blog,
But found it a hard slog,
So deleted it that afternoon!

Balloon

Its late.
The expensive balloon
Will soon
Deflate
Leaving
The boy grieving.
The girl will shrug her shoulder
And think “thank god that’s over”.

I Think Of Ozymandias

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Walking through these fallen leaves, I think of Ozymandias.
All things pass.
The rotten
Is soon forgotten
And all
Idols fall.

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Fallen Fruit

Low-hanging fruit I recall.
I longed to taste,
For some say it is the route
To pleasure. yet
in my haste
To enjoy
I did forget
That the worm does destroy,
And the boy
Should not tempt the fruit to fall.

Money

Its funny
How money
Creates a hole
In one’s soul

Introspection

Introspection
May lead to dejection,
But it is better to think
Than lose oneself in drink.

why?

I have found many things:
Rings,
A hairband,
(Even a shoe of the high-heeled kind
I did find).
Yet still I do not understand
And often ask myself why?
For I
Am no magpie.

The Introspective Rake

So many
Have I known.
Penny after penny
Spent
In the lone
Play
Of cloying scent.

Toying with love of a kind,
I find
Myself destroying
What little I had
In a sad
Fake dance
Of romance.

Some names I remember
(Their May to my December).
But can winter cold
Hold
The summer sun?

May will, for a while
Smile
Through fixed teeth,
Then, ere winter’s fun
Is done
Resile
Ushering in his brief
Grief.

May is gone
And December flirts with June,
But she is soon
Away
To play
With another one,
Though Cupid...