K. Morris's Blog, page 8

Let Children Learn our Best Verse

A good and interesting article in the Spectator, entitled Let Children Learn our Best Verse, Let children learn our best verse | The Spectator

 

Thoughts of a Middle-Aged Man

In early August

Leaves on the ground

Are blown around.

 

 

Autumn must

Come in with September.

 

 

I remember

Barefoot girls in summertime

And lust

Only half understood.

 

 

In woods

Autumn leaves become dust.

My blood

Still runs hot.

And the graveyard plot

Calls us all.

The Vicar’s Sermon

When the noble and erudite vicar Winning

Gave a fine sermon condemning all sinning,

Rose and Miss Spink

Gave him a wink.

And the congregation all fell about grinning!

Grace the Magician

A magician who is known as Grace

Has made many men vanish without trace.

There’s a magic spade

And a secluded glade.

And the police are looking for Grace …

Browning

Today,

Waking early, I reached for Elizabeth.

But, finding Robert, I read of death

And how the May

Left him bereft.

 

I am drowning in envy of Browning

For he so well caught

How short

Is our May.

For all things must fade away.

 

Death leaves friends bereft.

Yet poetry remains

To soothe our pain.

 

Shadows and Birdsong

Lost in thought

I walk

Through the evening wood.

Then I see

My shadow beside me.

 

In inner talk

I failed to see

The wood’s beauty

And my whirling  words

Drowned out the birds.

 

My tomorrow may not come.

Yet the sun

Shines through the trees

And there is beauty

In these shadows and birdsong.

A Good Investment

When a scantily clad young lady in Chester

Said, “sir, won’t you become my investor?”,

And I asked her why.

She said, “my name is Sky.

And I’m a very hot prospect in Chester!”

 

 

Moral Relativist

When a young lady that I once kissed

Said, “tell me, are you a moral relativist?”,

I said, “darling  Lou,

Would that bother you?”,

She said, “I liked it when we kissed …!”

When a Young Lady Wearing 1 Spectacle

When a young lady wearing 1 spectacle

Said, “Kevin, tell me, are you respectable?”,

I said to her, “Ria,

I have been called insincere.

But I have never been called respectable!”

Summer Rain

A summer rain falls.

And birds sing.

The earth smells fresh.

But I recall

I have bills to pay.

 

 

Yet returning home

To my working day

I carry birdsong

And the rich earth

In my heart.

 

 

Nature’s art

Feeds my poetry.

Yet she

Outshines all poetry.