Dusk softly falls
. As blackbirds call
Tis a kind of poetry
As brother calls to brother.
Or, more prosaically,
Its merely territory.
But tis poetry to me.
Blackbirds
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Monthly Archives: September 2021
My Friend Who is High in Society
My friend who is high in society
Said, “Kevin, I am fond of variety.
That pretty Miss Lou
Goes well with Sue!”.
I said, “there’s some merit in sobriety!”.
Miss Moon
As I entered my fine old bedroom
I met a young lady named Moon.
I said, “my dear,
What brings you here?”.
She said, “you’re smoking a magic mushroom!”.
Fay Who Liked to Say Hey!
There was a young lady named Fay
Who began all her texts with hey!
A horse called Billy
Being old and silly,
Answered all of Fay’s texts with neigh!
She Remembered My Name
She remembered my name
And what I drink.
Yet I think
That she
Will not dance
With me.
Middle age
May engage
With youth.
But the truth
Is that she
Will not dance
With me.
Yet she
Remembered my drink.
But still
I think
That she
Will not dance
With me.
A middle-aged man
With white hair.
Is that how
She remembers me?
’Tis merely vanity
That makes me care
HAY HOUSE PUBLISHING
Can anyone help Lorraine with her query? If so can you please comment on Lorraine’s (original) post rather than on my reblog of it. Many thanks. Kevin
Any of you authors out there – has anyone ever gone with the Hay House Publishing arm, Balboa Press?
I have been in conversation wit them but don’t know much about them and if it is worth it. Has anyone had experience with them, or has anyone avoided them for any reason? Thanks in advance if anyone can help.
Lorraine
I Once Had a Friend With a Sister
I once had a friend with a sister
And no man was able to resist her.
I dated that girl,
Whose name was Pearl.
Until she swapped me for an old transistor!
Macbeth
I dreamed of you last night
And by the morning’s dim light
I listened to the rain
And thought of Lady Macbeth
Whose Heart
Shakespeare’s art
Made clean
In death.
Vice
When an expert in the field of vice
Said, “sir, you are not at all nice!”.
I said, “dear Yvette
I really do regret
That I have no money for your vice!”.
Passing
I left the woodland path
To let the couple pass,
And heard the young girl laugh.
I think on urban foxes mating
And remember men impatiently waiting
Whilst the police cleared away.
All this fleeting thought
Of our brief day
Must end in nought.
K Morris - Poet 