Author Archives: K Morris Poet

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About K Morris Poet

The purpose of this website (kmorrispoet.com) is to showcase my writing. For details of my published works, please click on the 'About' page of my blog.

There Once Was an Author Named Kafka

There once was an author named Kafka

Whose books are all lacking in laughter.

There can be no denial,

For I have it on file:

His books are all lacking in laughter.

Miss Nicola

A young lady known as Miss Nicola

Invites all the gentlemen to tickle her.

My friend Heather

Dresses in leather

And no gentlemen dares to tickle her …

Threadbare

The scent of cheap perfume

Pervades an overheated room.

She in her mini skirt

And too high heels.

He in t-shirt and jeans.

 

They play their scenes.

She loses skirt and heels

And feels

The threadbare carpet under her feet.

She wants to sleep …

 

Sometimes she weeps,

But not in front of them.

He sighs.

His fun is done.

Occasionally he cries,

Though not when they can see.

 

The same dance

Of no romance

Over and over again

To hide his pain.

 

She has a child to feed

Or perhaps some other need.

Sometimes  he wonders about them.

But they are free

As is he …

To choose …

 

Lorna and the Sauna

I am dating a young lady named Lorna

Who works in some kind of sauna.

When I say, “what goes on there?”

She refers me to her colleague Claire –

Who refers me back to Miss Lorna …

Lin’s Disertation

I know a young lady named Lin

Who is writing a dissertation on sin.

My wife Coral

Finds her immoral.

But I’m really quite fond of Lin …

Role Play

When a dominant young lady named Fay

Said, “lets all indulge in role play!”

And severe Miss Jane

Produced a large cane,

I made my excuses that day …!

Elegy on a Former Neighbour

I passed by

Where you once lived

And remembered how you gazed at the stars

So far away.

 

It is cold today

But you are lost to frost and sunshine.

You denied the divine

Yet loved the starry sky.

 

No telescope can see where you are gone.

Yet I think you would agree with me

That we came from stardust

And must go

Beyond where the telescope can see

A Young Lady Whose Name is Mustard

A young lady whose name is Mustard

Said, “you are a no good bustard!”

I said to her, “Beth,

You bore me to death!

Go wash your hair in egg custard!”

 

Poetic Muse

When a young lady wearing just shoes

Said, “I want to be your poetic muse!”

I said to her, “Rose!

You are wearing no clothes!”

She said, “that’s how you like your muse …!”

 

Shadows of Poetry

In early January

My shadow goes in front of me.

The sun shines

But my hands are cold.

 

One day I know

My shadow will no longer go.

Though perhaps in rhyme

I will leave something behind

And people may see

Something of me.

For poets make shadows

Through their poetry