I often find
The fox’s bark
Fills my mind.
How fast the light
Fades in woodland glades
And becomes the dark
Of suffocating night.
In the park
Where children play
His cold, sharp bark
Seems to say
You spend your day
In the sun
But the night
Blots out light
And your day
Is done.
(The final stanza is very long compared to the first 2 and I am not sure how the poem hangs together. Would welcome the views of my readers. Thanks. Kevin).
When a young lady smoking a cigar
Said, “has anyone seen my new bra?”,
An ageing rake known as Morris
Passed her The Odes of Horace,
But he kept that young lady’s bra!
I can not count
The amount
Of girl’s bare feet
That have passed
Before my glass.
Time depletes
Us all.
Then we fall
Into a bed
Where all
Lust is dead.
Sitting in this darkening room
I feel desire
For a girl’s sweet perfume,
But the flame
Is not the same
As of yore.
For flames die
And turn to ash.
And I
Must pass
From bedroom to tomb
Where love and lust
Are one in dust.
I once had a girlfriend named Jamie
Who said, “this relationship is too samey!”.
When I suggested we see Miss White
She said, “we did that last night!
Lets have Miss Right tonight”, said Jamie …!
There was a young lady named Ria
Who, it being a brand new year,
Drank a whole bottle of wine,
Which was more or less fine,
But then she turned to strong beer …!
I would like to wish all of my readers a very happy new year. Thank you for reading, commenting and liking my poetry and other posts during 2022, and thanks also to those of you who have read my books.
I hope 2023 is a good year for you.
Very best wishes. Kevin
I met a young lady named Hall
Who said, “gaze into my crystal ball!”.
When I looked therein
I saw great sin,
So went home with gorgeous Miss Hall!
Janus waits in the wings.
As with previous dead years
He will bring
Laughter and tears.
Doors open and close.
The futurologist thinks he knows
What the future holds.
But Janus thumbs his nose,
And history goes
On as before,
And where it goes
Heaven only knows.
A man whose name is Terry
Is extremely fond of his Sherry.
As for me
I like tea,
And sometimes I enjoy Miss Sherry …
K Morris - Poet 