Are all the single
Young men and women
Forgoing the sweet tingle
Of sinning,
And spending their time
In rhyme,
While
We are in lockdown?
I smile
And think
That some may drown
In drink,
Whilst others dream.
But much, you know
Will go
Unseen.
Though the odd neighbour may snitch
On those who scratch an itch …
I met a young lady named May
Who said, “I regret I can not stay”.
I said, with tears of great sorrow,
“Young woman, each precious moment we borrow.
But, ’tis still April, my dear young May!”.
In mid April
The birds sing
And start
A rill
Of hope in my heart.
Surely this Covid thing
Will pass?
But, for now lad
And lass
Are glad
That birds still sing
In spring.
Back seat
Car meets.
Or a certain hotel,
That she knows well.
Birds sing
In spring.
At 19,
What does she dream?
When a young lady named Michelle
Said, “you should sell, sell sell!”.
And I said, “are you a stockbroker?”,
And she said, “no, I’m a joker”.
I said, “I prefer miss Nell!”.
I recently blogged regarding an opportunity for poets to have their poems aired, https://kmorrispoet.com/2020/04/08/an-opportunity-for-poets-to-have-their-work-aired/.
The organiser, David Vickery, has created a Facebook page to promote the sharing of poems concerning COVID-19, which can be found here, https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100049345031282.
You can find David’s Youtube where he reads poems on Corona/Covid-19 which have been submitted to him here, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCERRl7-EinGfUMCKePVlD3A.
As of today (17 April), David has uploaded 1 poem, which can be found here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8S6YZQjCzw.
If you are interested in contacting David and having your poem read, please follow the above links
Kevin
A humorous reimagining of Church of England services in the light of the Corana Virus/COVID-19, https://www.salisburyreview.com/blog/certain-amendments-to-the-liturgy-and-hymnody-of-the-church-of-england-for-the-duration-of-the-present-emergency/.
A young lady whose name is Kate
Said, “the evening it grows very late”.
So I gave her a kiss,
And she cried out in bliss.
Then her father he opened the gate!
On a beautiful spring night
I heard, with some delight
The gentle tick tock
Of a long deceased clock.
Time is always there.
Yet I care
For the tick tock
Of an individual clock.
Each, separate timepiece
Must,
One day
Cease.
And I shall go away,
And all the philosophy discussed,
Shall turn to dust.
Whilst walking in the forest green
I met with the fairy queen,
Who said,”la belle dame sans merci”.
I said, “do, please excuse me,
But is this a Keatsian dream?”.
K Morris - Poet 