You and me
Played. She stayed
In another room
Just watching TV.
On this dull September afternoon,
I recall your chanting of new shoes.
I wonder, did you choose?
For the marketplace is full of choice.
Your friend’s voice
Is heard no more.
But market stores
Offer plenty of choice.
I met a young lady named Ling
Who said, “are you left-wing or right-wing?”.
I said, “politics are so boring
And will have us both snoring!
Now Ling, do you fancy a fling!”
When I said,
To my Alexa AI,
“Am I dead?”,
She made quick reply,
“I hope so!”.
I really don’t know
But maybe I
Possess a homicidal AI!
(Note: sometimes I ask my Alexa random questions for the fun of doing so. The above poem stems from a genuine answer provided by Alexa to the question, “Am I dead?”.
Alexa has given the same response to the above question over several weeks. Should I be concerned …
In her rush
A young woman’s heels
Cruelly crush leaves.
The ageing poet sees
Autumn has come.
He feels girl’s heels
Carelessly kick away
The once green leaves
Of his May.
Were we lovers of a kind?
There was no answering spark
In your heart.
While in mine I find
A rhyme of your first time
Bought through art.
You were kind.
And I too was kind
For you and I both knew
Just what you
Felt you had to do.
Your need to feed,
And mine for women and wine.
No return of texts
For you were never mine.
I know a young poet named Lee
Who says, “my poetry will outlast me!”.
I regret his verse
Grows steadily worse
So they pay him to teach poetry!
When a pretty young lady known as Lou
Said, “I will see you both at 2”,
My girlfriend Jane
Really did complain
As she has this thing for Miss Sue …!
These autumn leaves
Remind me
Of my mortality.
Winter’s knife
Chops down life.
And trees
In spring bring
Forth leaves
And I recall
We all
Are of earth
And turf.
She says, “soon I will stop this”.
“Why do I engage
With a girl only half my age?.
Must I forever kiss
Lips which yearn to turn from me?
I am no devil
And perhaps at a certain level
She likes me.
In her deep sleep I see
Her in her vulnerability
And find the tenderness in me.
There is no true bliss
In her reluctant kiss.
But gold may hold sway
Tomorrow as with today.”
A young lady who works as a perfumer
Said, “you have absolutely no sense of humour!”.
As I stamped on her toes
I said, “my dear Miss Rose,
Don’t you wish you had met me sooner!”.
K Morris - Poet 