A young private named Maude
Slipped and fell on his sword.
His corporal, named Ted
Said “you should be dead.
But that sword is made of cardboard!”
A Young Private Named Maude
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Category Archives: creative writing
Wardrobe
In my wardrobe hang clothes
But heaven knows
There are skeletons too.
What about you
My friend,
Will you pretend
That your wardrobe is bare
Of skeletons, and only clothes hang there?
A Man Is Many Things
A man is many things
To family, colleagues and friends.
Different he may be
In his relations with each, but he
Comprehends
The ends
He pursues.
Or perchance he does choose
To deny
What he is, even to himself
And will die
With a smile
Of denial
Upon his face
Expecting grace …
Do Those Who Drink Of Lethe
Do those who drink of Lethe
Find surcease
From pain?
Or do they wrack their brain
In a vain
Attempt to regain
What is forever, lost?
O to be free of regret
And forever forget
A life ill spent.
But what cost
To drink
Of Lethe and no more think,
But merely to do
As like some automaton
We wander through
Hades
Where memory fades
And days are as one.
The departed are gone
But know it not, or perhaps they do
As tears may break through
When half remembered years
Enter the head
Of the living dead.
All men meet the ferryman, but not all fear
The guide
Who carries us to the other side.
It is Lethe drear
That inspires most dread.
The Greeks said
That the ferryman comes before we quench our thirst
In Lethe’s waters.
But no, ‘Tis not always so
For sons and daughters are left behind
When loved ones find
The river where memory fractures, before the body dies.
There Once Was A King Named Canute
There once was a king named Canute
Who continued to play the flute
As the sea it rose
And covered his nose,
That foolish old king named Canute!
There Was A Young Man Named Neil
There was a young man named Neil
Who said “I know how you feel”.
I said “you don’t know me
So how can that be?
You Presumptuous young man named Neil!”
There Once Was A Young Technocrat
There once was a young technocrat
Who played cricket with his cat.
The feline said, with a purr
“I don’t play fair”
And whacked him with a bat!
“Shadows” Revisited
On 3 December 2016, I wrote “Shadows” https://newauthoronline.com/2017/10/03/shadows-3/. My poem was prompted by the play of shadows created by the winter sun upon the walls of my study.
Today (Sunday 3 December 2017), it is (as was the case one year ago) a cold day. There are, however no shadows playing upon the walls of my study.
—
“Shadows” appears in my latest collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, which is available from Moyhill Publishing, and Amazon.
“My Old Clock I Wind” is also available in braille from the Royal National Institute of Blind People (RNIB).
To order “My Old Clock” in braille please contact RNIB on 0303 123 9999 or buy online at http://shop.rnib.org.uk/.
When contacting RNIB please quote order number 25870603
Alternatively please visit the library’s catalogue, and enter the search term, “my old clock I wind and other poems”, hit search and my book should be displayed.
There Was A Young Lady Named Daisy
There was a young lady named Daisy
Who had a reputation for being lazy.
She went out on a date
With her brother’s best mate,
Though her recollection is somewhat hazy …!
—
There was a young lady named Daisy
Who had a reputation for being lazy.
Her boss named Ted
Yelled “get out of bed,
Or I’ll fire you for being lazy!”
Most Flowers Are Visited By The Bee
Most flowers are visited by the bee.
As for me
I remember a flower’s tender heart
That I have not the art
To describe,
Save to say
That it was exceeding sweet inside.
But another bee
(not me)
Did steal away
It’s bloom.
It’s heart being broken
Others visited soon.
K Morris - Poet 