It is too hot.
Girls and boys
Sweat,
But have not
The energy for fleeting joys,
Let alone regret
It is too hot
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Category Archives: creative writing
Grenfell
I have just been reading of the Royals visit to Grenfell tower,
and the welcome they did receive.
I see the power
Of a non-political head of state, to represent the unity
Of the community
And grieve
That you do not perceive
The Monarchy as I do
But construe
Them as hangers-on
Who’s time is long gone.
Every week
I hear you speak
The same old guff.
I have had enough
But politeness makes me hold my tongue
For a word carelessly flung
Can cause lasting distress and bile
To often provokes a vile
Reply
Causing acquaintance to die
In a gutter of abuse.
I think you obtuse
But being wise
And somewhat to my own surprise
Hold my peace.
Two Lonely Rivers Met
Two lonely rivers met
And being single
Did their waters mingle.
They are lonely yet
Women, and rhyme, and wine
I have known you for a long time:
Women,, and wine, and rhyme.
The prospect is most fine:
With women, and rhyme, and wine.
The hill does gently decline:
With women,, and rhyme, and wine.
Yet the world is surely divine:
With women, and rhyme, and wine.
—
Note: I was influenced, I believe, when composing the above poem, by Ernest Christopher Dowson’s “The Poet’s Road” which runs thus:
“Wine and woman and song,
Three things garnish our way:
Yet is day over long.
Lest we do our youth wrong,
Gather them while we may:
Wine and woman and song.
Three things render us strong,
Vine leaves, kisses and bay;
Yet is day over long.
Unto us they belong,
Us the bitter and gay,
Wine and woman and song.
We, as we pass along,
Are sad that they will not stay;
Yet is day over long.
Fruits and flowers among,
What is better than they:
Wine and woman and song?”
Fly
To live and die
As a fly,
Knowing only this wood, this sky.
Yet here am I
Inocence Lost
Once she had ideals.
Now her fate she seals
In late night deals
And slip-off heels
There was a young author named Hurn
There was a young author named Hurn
Who lived in a place called Pitcairn.
He wrote about a girl he knew,
Which one aught not to do!
So they drummed him out of Pitcairn!
There was a young man called Mcqueen
There was a young Man called Mcqueen
Who was part of a certain scene.
He wrote a book,
At which I refuse to look,
But I hear its quite obscene …!
Objectification
The girl objectified
Died.
Then
When he had had enough
They discussed
Politics or some such guff.
The Extraordinary Has Become Ordinary
The extraordinary
Has become ordinary
And joy
For girl and boy
Is a mere matter
Of pounds, shillings and pence.
Dreams shatter
And his expense
Is a ticket to stations:
Anticipation,
Vanishing Expectation,
And their final destination … Despair
K Morris - Poet 