K. Morris's Blog, page 46

There Once Was a Poet Named Hind

There once was a poet named Hind

Who said, “the best is all behind!

My once great verse

It grows steadily worse!

And the critics all kick my behind!”.

Hypnotic

The fall of rain does, I find

Help to calm my mind.

It is hypnotic like the clock,

Or young women in heels who stop

At midnight doors and knock,

And hypnotise my mind.

But rain remains

While girls who knock

do not.

 

 

 

The Suspected Literary Criminal

Burglar Caught in Rome Mid-Heist While Taking a Break to Read Homer’s The Iliad

Its heartening to know that there exist those of a literary bent in the criminal community!

To be serious for a moment. If this (suspected)thief is convicted, and whilst imprisoned develops his love of literature,  it is to be hoped that he will “sin no more” on his release from jail.

Some years back, (before Covid), I visited Brixton prison with friends to eat in the restaurant run by some of the prisoners. The ide...

Youthful Passion

Their youthful passion unlocks.

She loses shoes and frock.

Then the vicar knocks …!

The Inner Storm

I remember your name

And how the thunder came.

“The lightning is exciting”,

You said. On my bed

There was no lightning.

 

I have taken some pleasure

When the humid weather

Is cooled by the rain.

But the inner storm warns

“Everything remains the same”.

Arty

When I attended a singles swingers party

With the great and the somewhat arty,

A young lady named Claire

Tied me up with Flair.

Those knots they were really quite arty!

Working Girls

Women offer delight for the night

Or an hour or so

And when they go

There is no love left behind

To comfort the unquiet mind.

Just a bank transfer

From him to her.

True, some girls pretend to care,

But if the money isn’t there …

Ending Summertime

In late August, the wind blows dust

And a plastic bag flaps.

Perhaps this little rhyme of ending summertime

May engage on yellowing page

When I am below

And can not know

For the hearse

Takes all verse,

Though poems may stay.

Miss Ice

A young lady known as Miss Ice

Has a reputation for not being nice.

Her real name is Coral

And she’s so very immoral!

But to me she’s always been nice …!

August Storm

This storm in late August

Has stripped many leaves from trees.

Twigs snap and crack underfoot.

 

 

All Augusts must fade to September.

And I remember

Autumn must come.