I must confess
That many a girl in a short dress
Has set my pulse racing.
I am forever chasing
The elusive swan,
Who is here then gone
Into the night sky.
I
Am a dry
Watering hole temporarily wet
By girls I forget,
‘Ere I move on
To another swan.
There was a young man named Locke
Who found a mermaid under a rock.
When he asked her name
She hid in shame
As she wasn’t wearing a frock!
I maintain
That the card
Hit the hard
Bottom of the pillar box.
Yet I retain,
Here in my hand
That self-same card,
With crumpled envelope
I can not seal.
Nymphs never die.
They fade
Into woodland glade,
While I
Wait in fear
For nymphs to reappear.
Beauty or duty?
We live but once so why die
For an ideal
When one may feel
Lips so soft
They awake
An ache
Beyond soothing?
The devil coughed,
“Excuse me”
Said she
“But time is moving
On and I must be away.
Unless, of course you ask me
To stay …”.
I beg you, stay a while
For I am without guile
And ‘tis no crime
To hide oneself in rhyme
Walking a tightrope,
The abyss
Of bliss
Below.
Should I let go
People would recall
That I had a spectacular fall …
To keep hold
Is, I am told
The right thing to do.
That may well be true
But oh
How I long to go
Into the abyss
Of bliss
Tis a strange thing
To see winter dance with spring.
The winter wind does freeze
Spring’s heart,
Yet she will play her part
And with her bloom
Tease
And please,
Creating her own tomb.
There was a young man named Guy
Who was employed as a British spy.
He received money from the Russians,
And payments from the Prussians.
That double-crossing young spy named Guy!
There was a young lady named Lou
Who created a website in 1902.
She had her own email address,
Although I must confess
That I am lying to you!
K Morris - Poet 