Will Yeats’s falcon stay?
Or will he fly away
Leaving mankind behind
As our sun goes down
And civilisation is drowned
In endless night?
I think he may
Have long since taken flight.
Yeats’s Falcon
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Author Archives: K Morris Poet
Busts
A young man on seeing a bust
Said, “some men are stirred to lust
By girls in short dresses
And their sweet soft caresses.
Miss, how much for Napoleon’s fine bust?”
My name it is Alice!
There was a young lady of Crystal Palace
Who went by the name of Alice.
They said to her Claire,
“You should take great care!”,
She said, “my name it is Alice!”
Old Father Time Got Stuck in a Rhyme
Old father time
Got caught in a rhyme
And couldn’t get away.
He knew not
What to say or do
As his hands
Got stuck with glue.
Lost Time
The wind is eternal.
It blows and my thought goes
Scuttering like dead leaves.
I heard the clock’s tick tock.
Should I grieve
For lost time?
There is no time
Only my temporary body clock
Which will, one day, stop.
My Head is Dead
My head is dead.
After a flash of electricity in my brain
Am I the same?
My head feels dead.
I understand the words said, and can’t explain
Why it feels dead.
My head may not be dead.
I can interpret and explain.
Perhaps my memory is the same,
But my head feels dead.
Midnight Doors
Doors get knocked at midnight
To gentlemen’s delight.
While neighbours gossip, left and right …
Seizure
I felt no cold breath of Death
Nor the Reaper’s skeletal hand.
Yet he greeted me
And I mumbled and tumbled
And found myself on the cold ground
Where all are bound.
Death can command us all.
When he calls man must fall.
He greeted me in jest.
But he will tire of play
And I will find rest
For Death he ends all play.
After the Hospital
After the hospital
I walked in the rain again,
But did not regret the wet,
For the dead
Feel no rain.
I Know a Young Lady of Kampala
I know a young lady of Kampala
Who works in a massage parlour.
Her name it is Sky
And she’s so incredibly shy
And she works in a massage parlour …
K Morris - Poet 