On my way
Home today
I met
A budding rose
And did a poem compose
To love, lust,
Dust, and regret.
Who knows
Whether the rose
Be closed
Still.
All flesh is grass
And I will
Into the dark forest pass
While the rose
Is blooming still
On my way
Home today
I met
A budding rose
And did a poem compose
To love, lust,
Dust, and regret.
Who knows
Whether the rose
Be closed
Still.
All flesh is grass
And I will
Into the dark forest pass
While the rose
Is blooming still
Some girls fold
With great care
Their clothes on a chair
Ere they go
To bed.
While others throw
Their dress,
In a mess
On the ground.
I have found
That a few will hang
From the door
For the floor
Is a mess
And a girl must not soil
Or spoil
Her dress.
But what can be said
Of her head?
I know a young lady named Pearl
Who sets my head in a whirl.
She is slim and petite
And lives on my street,
And her eyebrows they twist and curl!
—
I know a young lady named Pearl
Who sets my head in a whirl.
She is slim and petite
But her huge boyfriend Pete,
Keeps me away from his girl!
—
I know a young lady named Pearl
Who sets my head in a whirl.
I very much regret
That her pretty friend Yvette
Refuses to give me a twirl!
—
I know a young lady named Pearl
Whose father is some kind of earl.
When I asked for his daughter’s hand
He bribed me with much land,
So I dumped that young lady Pearl!
She takes off her t-shirt.
The trainers go,
And her legs also
She does show.
No flirt,
Just a messed up girl who
Loses sock and shoe
In order to train.
I recently read this article on Writers Relief, http://writersrelief.com/2010/03/18/poetry-turnoffs-styles-and-formatting-that-make-editors-cringe/. The piece makes a number of points concerning what editors of poetry magazines dislike, and suggests that those making submissions think carefully prior to submitting their work. Amongst the “turn offs” mentioned in the article, is that of rhyming poetry, with the view being expressed that editors do not, in general publish rhyming poetry. Interestingly almost all of the comments following on from the article are strongly in favour of rhyming poetry.
As a poet who does (for most of the time) write in rhyme, I am both saddened and heartened by the article. Or, rather I am saddened by the fact that many editors shy away from rhyming poetry, but heartened by the large number of those who love (and write) in rhyme. Of course one should not shoot the messenger. The authors of the article are only passing on their advice to those who wish to submit to poetry magazines and, of course are not responsible for the editorial likes and dislikes of particular journals. Nonetheless I have an aversion to writing simply to be accepted for publication. For me poetry has to be honest, and composing verse simply to please others is not being true to oneself.
I should, perhaps qualify the above statement. I do, of course hope that my work will give pleasure to my readers. I will, however not write in a manner alien to me simply to gain popularity and/or publication. This is easy for me to say as I have a fulltime job (my writing is not my primary source of income, and I do appreciate that not everyone has the luxury of simply producing work which is entirely to their own liking, for we all have bills to pay etc). But, for me rhyming poetry is my main mode of communication and I will not change my preference in order to enhance my chances of being published.
As always I would be interested in the views of you, my readers.
Kevin
She kept
Her heels on
At his request.
They dallied.
She tallied,
Then was gone.
Noone wept.
There was a young lady of Bath
Who made a most terrible gaffe,
When she mistook a silk rope
For a bar of soap,
And was found tied up in her bath!
I saw
A goddess in a store.
I chaffed.
She laughed.
There was no more.
‘Tis a truth
Profound
That eternal youth
Can not be found
By middle-aged men who pursue
Girls of 20,
(But there are plenty
Who do).
The run
May be fun
And rings
And other such things
May a man buy
More than a look
From a young girl’s eye,
Which is sometimes mistook
By the old
For love.
Nothing comes after
Her brittle laughter
Save for more
Of the same, but the fool will not be told
The truth,
That with all his gold
He can not purchase eternal youth,
Though some already this fact
Know
But act
As though
It where not so
And continue to buy
Forced laughter
After each joke
On which they both, secretly, choke.
As an Easter gift to my readers, I am offering 2 (free) audio downloads of my collection of poems, “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems“, to listeners on audible.com. Additionally, I am offering a further 2 (free) audio downloads of my book to audible.co.uk subscribers.
In order to be in with a chance of winning a copy of “The Writer’s Pen” (audio edition), please answer the following question,
Who is the main narrator (and housekeeper) in the novel “Wuthering Heights“?
The first 4 people to provide me with the correct answer win a free audio download of my book. To enter please send an email to kmorris poet (at) gmail dot com. Please put “Competition to win an audio download of “The Writer’s Pen” in the subject line of your email.
Please do not leave the answer in the comments below this post, as others will be able to see your answer.
The competition closes at 12 am (UK time), Tuesday 30 April.
You can find “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems” here, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KPN8LT3/.