K. Morris's Blog, page 88

I Am Trapped in Time

I am trapped

In time.

My passing rhyme

Must end

When he taps

Me on the shoulder

And says, “its over

My friend”.

 

And will aliens find

Fragments of poetry

And ponder on rhyme

And fleeting time?

 

 

Or will they see

An unintelligible line?

Or perhaps not care

When and where

We humans wrote,

Then cut our throat?

 

 

A Rake Ponders on His Mortality

Will I die,

Like a drunken fool

Falling off a bar stool?

Or will I

Be found dead in bed

In an empty room

Where cheap perfume

Lingers on stiffening fingers?

 

Will I die

As an old rake

Who did partake

In fleeting play?

 

 

There is no bliss

In death’s hard kiss,

Merely clay

Where rake and saint

Together stay.

Lou Who Dressed in 1 Shoe

There was a young lady named Lou

Who walked around dressed in 1 shoe.

When a girl called Rose

Said, “put on some clothes!”,

Lou said, “I’m dressed in this shoe!”.

 

The Wicked Cat

I once met a wicked cat

Who attacked me with a bat.

When I said, “Percy!

Show me some mercy!”,

He laughed and raised that bat!

 

Here’s the Reality Check For Writers

Fortunately, I have a full-time job which pays the bills. Poetry does not, I believe pay the bills for the overwhelming majority of those engaged in composing it. Ultimately I write for the love of writing. I am also delighted when readers tell me how my work touched them.

A Writer's Path

According to Forbes there are between 600 thousand and a million books published each year and roughly half are self-published. The average number of sales per volume is less than 250.

That’s not encouraging....

When Naughty Miss White and Miss Winning

When naughty Miss White and Miss Winning

Came round to mine for some sinning,

We got covered in cake

While a vicar named Lake

Condemned us for all of our sinning!

Cracked Glass

When the mirror finally breaks

There will be no lakes

Of pointless tears,

Just wasted years,

Reflected straight back

In shards of broken glass.

A Grave Situation

When a man whose name was Dave

Said, “I’ll sleep in this ’ere grave”,

A ghost called Clair

Said, “that isn’t fair!

I’d like some privacy in my grave!”.

Hot

When a young lady smoking some Pot

Said, “do you think that I’m hot?”,

They Said to her, “Moriah!

You’ve just started a fire!

You need to stop dropping that Pot!”.

Dave’s Rave

There was a young man named Dave

Who attended a very large rave,

Where a girl with a beard

Said, “some say that I’m weird,

But I really don’t like to shave!”.