K. Morris's Blog, page 6

The Haunted Old House

When I stayed in a haunted old house

With ghastly ghouls and a very small mouse,

I awoke with a fright

As the clock struck midnight,

And ghouls screamed with fear of that mouse!

The Poem of Age 35, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci.

Yesterday, whilst Zooming with fellow poets, I was introduced to “The Poem of Age 35”, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci. I have never visited Turkey and know very little of Turkish culture. I was, however deeply impressed and moved by Cahit Sitki Taranci’s “The Poem of Age 35”. Hence I am sharing it here The Poem of Age 35 by Cahit Sitki Taranci – Eppur Si Muove

The Poem of Age 35 by Yesterday, whilst Zooming with fellow poets, I was introduced to “The Poem of Age 35”, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci. I have never visited Turkey and know very little of Turkish culture. I was, however deeply impressed and moved

Yesterday, whilst Zooming with fellow poets, I was introduced to “The Poem of Age 35”, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci. I have never visited Turkey and know very little of Turkish culture. I was, however deeply impressed and moved by Cahit Sitki Taranci’s “The Poem of Age 35”. Hence I am sharing it here The Poem of Age 35 by Cahit Sitki Taranci – Eppur Si Muove

White Poet Pretended to be Black to Get Published

Aaron Barry, a white poet pretended to be black and had poems published which had previously been rejected when submitted under his own name. This story has not surprisingly provoked a good deal of controversy and I’ll leave it to you my readers to make up your own minds on the rightness or otherwise of the situation described in this article How white man became famous as a queer Nigerian poet – Businessday NG, and Elsewhere online.

Hutt’s Lamp

When a man whacking me with a lamp

Demanded that I give him a stamp.

I said, “dear Hutt,

Please accept this uppercut!”,

Then I stamped on him and his lamp!

Lust

If you had come

That night, there might have been delight

On my part.

But old time runs

And I find women of your kind

Leave no broken heart

When they depart.

Though I have sometimes been left bereft

When fun is done

For my clock

Must stop, and I return to dust.

Yet still I find

My man’s mind

Is full of lust.

 

I Once Met a Man Named Max

I once met a man named Max

Who refused to pay any tax.

A young lady called Miss Lou

Spanks paying gentlemen with her shoe –

I hope that she pays her tax!

Honey

She uses the word “honey”

As easily as he spends his money

On pretty birds whose words

Are meaningful as ads seen at night

On boards offering the delight

Of ice cream dreams that melt away

Into the mundanity of day

 

 

Looking at her mobile

She smiles her painted smile,

And says, “that was fun.

Now I must run”.

Then, not forgetting her money

She leaves her honey

Who, as heels fade away

Thinks, we both pay,

Each in our own way .

The Joys of the Fairground

I know a young lady named Round

Who is extremely fond of the fairground.

Whilst on the Big Dipper

I met with a stripper

Whose name I found to be Round!

Miss Flow’s Delicious Cake

Have you seen that pretty Miss flow

Who works from a flat in Soho?

Please make no mistake

She serves delicious cake –

Well that’s what I’ve heard from Joe …!