K. Morris's Blog, page 30

There is a Garden.

There is a garden

With artificial leaves

Where people memorialise the dead.

.

It has been said

That these leaves

Represent those long dead

.

There is a wall

Showing all must fall

Yet there is hope

For one must grope for hope

Even in the cold ground.

Copyright: K. Morris.

My name it is Alice!

There was a young lady of Crystal Palace

Who went by the name of Alice.

They said to her Claire,

“You should take great care!”,

She said, “my name it is Alice!”

Old Father Time Got Stuck in a Rhyme

Old father time

Got caught in a rhyme

And couldn’t get away.

He knew not

What to say or do

As his hands

Got stuck with glue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lost Time

The wind is eternal.

It blows and my thought goes

Scuttering like dead leaves.

 

 

I heard the clock’s tick tock.

Should I grieve

For lost time?

 

There is no time

Only my temporary body clock

Which will, one day, stop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Head is Dead

My head is dead.

After a flash of electricity in my brain

Am I the same?

 

My head feels dead.

I understand  the words said, and can’t explain

Why it feels dead.

 

My head may not be dead.

I can interpret and explain.

Perhaps my memory is the same,

But my head feels dead.

Midnight Doors

Doors get knocked at midnight

To gentlemen’s delight.

While neighbours gossip, left and right …

Seizure

I felt no cold breath of Death

Nor the Reaper’s skeletal hand.

Yet he greeted me

And I mumbled and tumbled

And found myself on the cold ground

Where all are bound.

 

 

Death can command us all.

When he calls man must fall.

He greeted me in jest.

But he will tire of play

And I will find rest

For Death he ends all play.

After the Hospital

After the hospital

I walked in the rain again,

But did not regret the wet,

For the dead

Feel no rain.

I Know a Young Lady of Kampala

I know a young lady of Kampala

Who works in a massage parlour.

Her name it is Sky

And she’s so incredibly shy

And she works in a massage parlour …

Birds Heard on a Hospital Ward

I heard birds in the hospital.

I thought their calls

Came to me through solid walls.

But the doctor said

The birds I heard where recorded sound.

Yet it was profound

For when I am dead

There will be no sound to hear

Of birds  or friend’s words.

I cast no shadow on the   ward

So will walk in sunshine

While there is time.