In early August
Leaves on the ground
Are blown around.
Autumn must
Come in with September.
I remember
Barefoot girls in summertime
And lust
Only half understood.
In woods
Autumn leaves become dust.
My blood
Still runs hot.
And the graveyard plot
Calls us all.
When the noble and erudite vicar Winning
Gave a fine sermon condemning all sinning,
Rose and Miss Spink
Gave him a wink.
And the congregation all fell about grinning!
A magician who is known as Grace
Has made many men vanish without trace.
There’s a magic spade
And a secluded glade.
And the police are looking for Grace …
Today,
Waking early, I reached for Elizabeth.
But, finding Robert, I read of death
And how the May
Left him bereft.
I am drowning in envy of Browning
For he so well caught
How short
Is our May.
For all things must fade away.
Death leaves friends bereft.
Yet poetry remains
To soothe our pain.
Lost in thought
I walk
Through the evening wood.
Then I see
My shadow beside me.
In inner talk
I failed to see
The wood’s beauty
And my whirling words
Drowned out the birds.
My tomorrow may not come.
Yet the sun
Shines through the trees
And there is beauty
In these shadows and birdsong.
When a scantily clad young lady in Chester
Said, “sir, won’t you become my investor?”,
And I asked her why.
She said, “my name is Sky.
And I’m a very hot prospect in Chester!”
When a young lady that I once kissed
Said, “tell me, are you a moral relativist?”,
I said, “darling Lou,
Would that bother you?”,
She said, “I liked it when we kissed …!”
When a young lady wearing 1 spectacle
Said, “Kevin, tell me, are you respectable?”,
I said to her, “Ria,
I have been called insincere.
But I have never been called respectable!”
A summer rain falls.
And birds sing.
The earth smells fresh.
But I recall
I have bills to pay.
Yet returning home
To my working day
I carry birdsong
And the rich earth
In my heart.
Nature’s art
Feeds my poetry.
Yet she
Outshines all poetry.
K Morris - Poet 