He tries for a kiss.
Her lips are dry
And her mouth remains closed.
She gave consent
To loss of clothes.
For his extra expense
She will kiss.
But he knows
She feels no bliss
And yearns to turn
From ageing lips.
Yet still they kiss
After wine.
Her leg on mine.
Her hands.
And youthful bust
All command my lust.
She leaves her scent behind.
I drink it in.
There are no ties to bind.
So some would call it sin.
I see my shadow with me
On an autumn day.
In the charms of girl’s arms
I forget my shadow
But he does not forget me .
All this talk
Of gaudy baubles bought
Ends in nought.
When I saw the good vicar Randy
Drinking brandy with that gorgeous Miss Mandy,
I said to him, “Jim,
She is pretty and slim”.
He said, “yes, but I am Randy!”.
Alone, I walk the woodland path.
No one with whom to laugh
While in the endless sky
A plane goes by
As I dwell on love.
But birds still sing
In autumn and spring,
And I have this wood
And the autumn sun.
There once was a man named Laker
Who got a job as an undertaker.
When a ghoul appeared
He said, “that’s weird!
Its such fun working as an undertaker!”
When I Met Mrs Dean near Wuthering Heights
She was dressed in some very tight tights.
When I turned to Mr Lockwood
He said, “I wish she would
Wear something with those very tight tights!”.
Warm in my bed
Thor’s great roar shook me
Out of my complacency.
These thoughts in my head
Will die. But Thor
And the rain will remain.
This civilisation is in denial.
We hide behind technology
While the weather gods smile
At our naivety,
Biding their time
When you hugged me tight
I will not deny that something stirred.
I think of you at night
And recall your frequent touch.
Such frustration and delight!
Is it fear of dust
Which feeds my lust
And causes me to long for thee?
You are lonely too
I know. but you say, “go slow”.
I am a patient man.
But life is passing by
Both you and I.
You, just 21
With your perfect skin
And short dress.
Me. Half my life gone
And need to confess,
My imperfect skin.
And your loss of dress.
K Morris - Poet 