K. Morris's Blog, page 531

Hustle

A hustle.
A tussle
Of thighs.
One-sided sighs.
A girl’s blank eyes.
Both will pay
Each in their own way.

Ghosts

Some see shapes gray
And say
“They are ghosts”.
Others perceive
Only bedposts
And grieve
For the naive
Fool
Who does believe
In spooks
And ghoul.

The rationalist takes refuge in books
But, on a dark night,
When the electric light
Fails
Even the sceptic sometimes pales
At the unexplained draft
Or shadows on the walls.
As he recalls
Nursery tales.
“I am daft”
He will say,
While fervently praying for the coming of day.

December 2015

I penned the below poem on 8 December 2015. The last month of 2015 was particularly mild which prompted me to reflect on climate change, hence the below composition.
December 2017 has, on the whole been rather cold (as one would expect in the depths of winter). While Christmas day itself was rather mild in my part of the UK, today (26 December) is much colder and I was glad of my coat when walking my guide dog, Trigger earlier in the morning.
“December?” can be found in my collection of poetr...

There Was A Young Lady Named Bess

There was a young lady named Bess
Who wore a very short dress.
The weather was extremely cold
And I am told
That she turned blue in her little short dress.

—

There was a young lady named Bess
Who wore a very short dress.
A young man walking by
Said with a sigh
“Impure thoughts I must go and confess!”.

There Was A Young Man Named Guy

There was a young man named Guy
Who lived on the Isle of Skye.
He married a girl most fair
(Her name was Clare)
And this limerick is truly a lie!

—

There was a young man named Guy
Who lived on the Isle of Skye.
He married a girl most fair
(Her name was Clare)
And their dog had only one eye!

—

There was a young man named Guy
Who lived on the Isle of Skye.
He married a girl named Clare,
But her sister called Flare
Ran away with that young reprobate Guy!

[image error]

Happy Christmas!

I would like to wish all my readers a very happy Christmas. May your Christmas be full of peace and joy.

My own view of Christmas is best summed up by the poet, Thomas Hardy, in his poem “The Oxen”. As with Hardy, I would go down to the “barton” “hoping it might be so”.

—

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor...

On The Death Of A Man

“Was he clubbable?” they said.
“Indeed, many wished to belabour him around the head”.

“Was he nice?”
“Every man has his vice
Be it big or small,
But let us not recall
Each slip and fall.
For ‘tis true
That he had virtues too.

“And what virtues had he?”
“Most agree
That he pursued his own ends
(Though it must be said that he was loyal to his friends).
He would stand his round
And could oft be found
Pint in hand
As he did stand
At many a bar,
His conversation ranging near and far”.

“Was he a...

There Was A Young Lady Named Lia

There was a young lady named Lia
Who worked as a social engineer.
She designed a towerblock so high
That it almost touched the sky.
But she wouldn’t live in it, no fear!

[image error]

There Was A Young Lady Named Hocking

There was a young lady named Hocking
Who hung up her Christmas stocking.
I regret that Santa Claus forgot her
(He left not even a pear).
And someone stole her stocking!

—

There was a young lady named Hocking
Who hung up her Christmas stocking.
I regret that Santa Claus forgot her
(He left not even a pear).
Her language was truly shocking!

[image error]

This Ticking Clock

This ticking clock calms.
No alarms
Just the steady tick tock
Of this battery driven clock.

It is growing dark outside.
I shall put aside
My pride
And think on the tick tock
Of the ever present clock
That does for now measure
My work and leisure.