My liberated young friend, whose named Dawn
Works in the field of porn.
She has lots of silk stockings,
And I’ve heard late night knockings,
From that pawnbrokers shop owned by Dawn!
When a careless young lady named Louise
Sat on a hive of bees,
And said, with a terrible scream
“Please, cool me down with icecream!”,
I said, “but bees make honey, Louise!”.
When a young lady who is divine
Said, “do you like women and wine?”,
I said, with a smile,
“You have such great style,
And will you pay for the wine?”.
This solitary park.
This winter sky
And I.
Soon, it will be dark.
Is there shame
In not knowing a girl’s name?
Maybe it is so
When you go
To the place
Wherein
Grace
Gives way to sin.
And what if her name
Be false,
But you waltz,
Just the same.
Is there shame
In a waltz
With a girl with a false,
Or no name?
She has agency,
But is free,
Is she not?
And in your hot
Passion,
A name
(and compassion),
Is soon forgot,
Is it not?
Oh churchyard tree
You will outlast me
And your branches provide shade
To lad and maid,
Though I go below.
Yet, in the end,
My churchyard friend,
Thee and me
Having our lives run
Must both succumb
To mortality.
Leaves creep in
And grin
At me, from the floor.
There are more
Outside, piled high
by The wind.
They can be cleared away
But, there can be no denial
That, one day
I to, shall be swept away
Along with these, fallen, leaves.
A gorgeous young lady named Honey
Is dating me for my money.
I’m having so much hot fun,
And I’m learning how to professionally run,
For when she finds I’ve no money!
On an early winter evening,
In the darkening park,
I thought on beginnings,
And leaving.
Then, on my way home,
Alone,
I heard a couple behind.
They passed, out of sight,
Into a cold, December night,
Leaving me behind.
I saw a portrait
Of Lord Salisbury smile,
And heard the late
Bevan turn in his grave.
Corbynites are in denial,
While
One-nation Tories say,
“Disraeli will save
The day”.
Salisbury continues to smile,
While
The bereft,
Left
Remain, in denial.
K Morris - Poet 