K. Morris's Blog, page 71

Miss Follett and Alice

As I strolled through London’s Crystal Palace

I met a young lady named Alice.

She and Miss Follett

Have borrowed my wallet.

Has anyone seen that Follett or Alice?

The Ageing Reprobate

I have felt the bitter cold

And thought of sinning

With young women

And of how I grow old.

 

I have heard the clock tick

And heels click

In the late evening

And engaged  in couplings and leavings.

 

I have considered right and wrong

And fought the fire

Of my desire

But my lust was very strong.

 

I have pondered on old rakes

And the mistakes

Of my flawed humanity .

And sometimes I see

The Grim Reaper coming for me.

 

(Doubtless I have been influenced by poets much greater than I in the compositio...

When a Morbid Young Man Named White

When a morbid young man named White

Said, “I may die this very night!”.

I said, “I’ll have your lover

The beautiful and talented Miss Glover”

White said, “yes, that is perfectly alright!”

Winter Churchyard

I heard no birds

In the winter churchyard.

It was just

The cold sky

The tombs

And I

On a darkening afternoon.

Mole Who was Fond of Eating Coal

There once was a man named Mole

Who had a liking for eating coal.

A jolly old squire

Lit a great fire

Which quickly burned Mole and his coal!

The Bachelor

You in just

Your heels.

Me and my lust.

Sometimes it feels

Like love.

But I won’t lie

And go with your pretend

That I am your friend.

 

We have known each other

A long time.

I buy dinner and wine

Then we go back

Like 2 lovers

To my bachelor flat

Where we pretend

At lovers and friends.

 

Next day we chat

Of this and that

Over hot tea.

You smoke a cigarette.

Then leave me

With my regret

And thoughts of how

I am growing old.

 

Minus 3

It will be minus 3 tonight.

The light

Dies fast in winter.

 

 

There is a splinter

Of ice in my heart

With which I make art.

 

 

True, sometimes the sun breaks through.

But for now I rhyme

Of wintertime.

 

Spring will bring birdsong

But winter’s splinter is forever part

Of my poet’s heart.

 

 

Though birdsong does not last long

It may live on

When I am gone

In a rhyme  of my wintertime.

 

Night

Beyond the light

Of the commuter train

The falling night

Is full of rain.

 

I came

From this night

To play in sunlight,

But must return again

To night.

 

Scanning the Menu

Men may choose Chinese

Or whatever they please

For in the great marketplace

A girl’s legs and face

Can command a price

(Which some call vice).

 

The girl studying for her degree

And the single mum provide fun

But the fun

Commands a fee.

 

In what some call work

A pimp may lurk

Somewhere in the dark shadow.

Perhaps it isn’t so

But how do men know?

 

Wicked Miss Follett

A wicked young lady known as Follett

Has relieved many men of their wallet.

But me, being pure

I am perfectly sure

That my wallet is safe from Follett …!

 

—

 

A wicked young lady known as Follett

Has relieved many men of their wallet.

I hide mine behind the curtain

With a girl called Miss Person,

Where its perfectly safe from Miss Follett …!