K. Morris's Blog, page 60

Fragility

I heard children at play

On a spring day.

Their voices full of pleasure

In sunny weather.

The ice cream van came,

Then the wild wind

And the rain

Came and shook the glass

In my window frames

And reminded me

Of man’s fragility.

Spinster

“A Century of Nature Stories”, left on a ledge

In a bare room.

Did perfume

Once linger here?

 

A spinster lived and died

In this place

We made our home

For a little while.

 

“A Century of Nature Stories”,

What did that mean to you?

An old tome

Left in your former home?

 

I recall horses on the wall

Of my bedroom.

I think you would have approved

But I will never know

For you died long ago.

 

I regret we never met.

The memory of that book has stuck with me

And I would like to ask you

What it meant...

Swinging

When I went to a swingers bar

With a girl who calls herself Marr

A police constable named Flair

Danced nude on a chair –

But you should have seen Miss Marr …!

Poet Kevin Morris’s Poem “I Am Tired” on Dodo Modern Poets

I am pleased to let you know that my poem “I am Tired” has been included in the latest episode of Dodo Modern Poets. To listen to “I am Tired” and the other poet’s work, please visit https://dodomodernvidpoets2022.blogspot.com/.

 

I listened using Google Chrome. (For some reason none of the poems would play for me using  Microsoft’s Edge browser. If you do get Edge to work for you, please do let me know)!

 

 

 

Melancholy Polly

There was a young lady named Polly

Who was known for her love of melancholy.

Her verse was so sad

It drove us all mad

So we exiled that girl to a folly

Slippers and Kippers

There once was a young lady in slippers

Who was famous for her custard and kippers.

Her food was real nice

But that girl’s only vice

Was serving kippers whilst dressed in just slippers …!

Impermanence

Sometimes I dwell on the impermanence of things.

In early spring the birds sing.

And I pass by grass green from rain.

But the grass will not stay.

 

 

The mower will come in sun or rain

And make sweet hay.

But the hay will rot  away.

 

 

Rain will return again

And I will pass by grass

Lush from the rain

Until I am as the hay.

Hatch Who Was Fond of a Scratch

There once was a writer named Hatch

Who was fond of having a scratch.

He liked to write

With his dog White

Whose fleas  would cause Hatch to scratch!

Alarm

The alarm warns me

That my tea

Is ready for me

In the microwave.

There is nothing profound

In It’s sound

Which will not save

Me from the grave

Where no bird

Is ever heard

And worms make tea

Of you and me.

Lust

Lonely men

Engage in deals

With women in heels

Who dance through dust.

And the dance,

As all dances must

Ends in dust.

But, perchance

Some men dance

For fear of dust.