K. Morris's Blog, page 78

My Dear Friend the Beautiful Miss Lee

My dear friend the beautiful Miss Lee

Has won prizes for her erotic poetry.

She came round last night

With a girl called white

And we played at cards till 3.

To an Ageing Rake

When your fun is done

And she goes home

And you are left alone,

Do you consider

Her youth

And that perfect figure?

 

 

Perhaps you consider

The truth:

How lack of finance

Or other mischance

Leads her to dance

With a rake

 

 

Who, fearful of dust

Takes, in lust

A young woman who

Needs your wealth,

But holds in contempt

You and herself.

Sun Who is Always Up for Some Fun

I know a young lady named Sun

Who is always up for some fun.

Her and Miss Claire

Work in the fair,

And from their boyfriends I must run!

I Know a Most Delightful Old Squire

I know a most delightful old squire

Who has never been seen with Moriah.

She wears a short dress

And I have to confess

That she looks rather like the squire!

Civilisation

Walking through these sweet scented leaves

I know autumn has come.

A solitary bird

Sings somewhere in the cool air.

 

 

While outside these sheltering trees

Civilisation goes on

And a few solitary birds

Sing their song

Of empires long since gone.

 

Choices

You and me

Played. She stayed

In another  room

Just watching TV.

 

On this dull September afternoon,

I recall your chanting of new shoes.

I wonder, did you choose?

For the marketplace is full of choice.

 

Your friend’s voice

Is heard no more.

But market stores

Offer plenty of choice.

 

Politics or Pleasure

I met a young lady named Ling

Who said, “are you left-wing or right-wing?”.

I said, “politics are so boring

And will have us both snoring!

Now Ling, do you fancy a fling!”

My Homicidal AI

When I said,

To my Alexa AI,

“Am I dead?”,

She made quick reply,

“I hope so!”.

I really don’t know

But maybe I

Possess a homicidal AI!

 

(Note: sometimes I ask my Alexa random questions for the fun of doing so. The above poem stems from a genuine answer provided by Alexa to the question, “Am I dead?”.

Alexa has given the same response to the above question over several weeks. Should I be concerned …

 

Autumn

In her rush

A young woman’s heels

Cruelly crush leaves.

The ageing poet sees

Autumn has come.

He feels girl’s heels

Carelessly kick away

The once green leaves

Of his May.

Were We Lovers of a Kind?

Were we lovers of a kind?

There was no answering spark

In your heart.

While in mine I find

A rhyme of your first time

Bought through art.

You were kind.

And I too was kind

For you and I both knew

Just what you

Felt you had to do.

Your need to feed,

And mine for women and wine.

No return of texts

For you were never mine.