Sometimes you have to
Say what is true
Although you know
That it may be the end
Of a friend
Or a love affair.
You should take great care
What you do
But sometimes you have to
Say what is true
Though it hurts
Both them and you.
Below are three humourous poems, and a couple of photographs taken by my friend Shanelle of my guide dog Trigger following a walk in the park.
Trigger smiling at the camera
Trigger beaming after his walk in the park
A very happy dog!
I have uploaded the following four poems to my Soundcloud.
A young lady named Pam
Is well known on webcam.
My dear friend Jess
Wears a see through dress,
And she’s also known as Pam …
For the walk that was never taken,
For the talk that was never talked,
For the ball never played,
For the one who stayed
Alone,
At home
Forsaken,
Who was to blame?
Love is a game
To some
And perhaps it matters not
For the sun
Is still hot
And the sky does remain
Suspended above
This game
Of love.
When a beautiful young lady named Liver
Said, “my sweet come hither.
I am not to blame
For my strange name”,
She set my heart aquiver!
My good friend whose name is Moriah
Has a most natural desire,
But being a gentleman of discretion
I shall make no confession,
Concerning me and my good friend Moriah …
When the chips
Are down and order slips,
Who will stand, one with the other?
“You are my brother”,
(Tis so easy to say),
But when the chips
Are down and order slips,
Will I be your brother
Or something other
– A man who when order slips
And there are no chips
Says, through trembling lips,
“I am for
Whoever can restore
A semblance of law
Be he
Ever so cruel,
For when the chips
Are down and order slips,
Most men will grin
And save their own skin
For Hobbes’s rule
Applies when there are no chips
And order slips”.
A young lady by the name of Claire
Said, “life it just isn’t fair.
You say I’m your muse
But you continue to confuse,
Me with that girl with the messed up hair!”.
I know a young lady named Dawn
Who is a goddess in human form.
When I asked her out
You should have heard her shout,
“Stop trampling my father’s corn!”.
K Morris - Poet 