K. Morris's Blog, page 499

Summer Frocks

Summer frocks
Gosamer thin
Caress skin.
The season unlocks
But not for him.

Crank

To be frank
A crank
Is a he
Or she
With whom we
Disaagree …

(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/crank/).

The Sinner’s Confession

I have yearned
And turned
To what I ought
Not.

While hot
I have
Been momentarily glad
To
Go through.

Then
When
‘Tis done
I run
To what is true,
Mistress Nature who
Does not care
Where
I have been
Or who seen.

The Commons Debate

The Commons debate
Matters of weight.
While in spring
Flowers pleasure bring

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Nightmare

Lovely Curses

I can’t seem to break free. From these cuffs. From my nightmare…

In my dream I was running. Running from a man whose face I couldn’t see. I didn’t know why, or what he would do once he caught me. All I knew was to run. As fast as I could. As far as I could.

In the end, I ran straight into his arms…

I gave up trying to get out of the handcuffs. I never dialed 9-1-1. (My phone is still in my lap when he returns, a smirk on his face.)

Somehow, I think he knew I wouldn’t.

—Nortina

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There Was A Young Man Called Wood

There was a young man called Wood
Who on a river bank stood.
He wept over a maid
Who was both pretty and staid.
He really wished she would …

A review of my collection of poetry “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”

I was delighted to receive the following review of “My Old Clock I Wind”:

“A book of poetry by K. Morris. The poems explore different themes, lamenting the passing years, questioning what is called “progress” among others, but there are some nonsensical funny ones too …”. (To read the review in its entirety please visit, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2356305979?book_show_action=true&from_review_page=1).

You can find “My Old Clock” on Goodreads here, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show...

There Was A Young Man Called Pete

There was a young man called Pete
Who did my wine cellar deplete.
Being drunk as a lord
He fell on his sword.
That unfortunate young man called Pete.

(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/deplete/).

There Was A Young Man Called Bill

There was a young man called Bill
Who had his hand in the till.
When his boss named Mike
Said “go take a hike”
He left along with the till.

In This Forest Glade

In this forest glade
I think on the shade.
All mens desires
For women and empires
Fade.

The shout
Of the brave
Is lost in the grave.
And all fires burn out
In the end,
Be they lover or friend.