The wind sings
In the trees
As I,
Alone,
Pass by
Gravestone.
Or, on the busy thoroughfare,
Oft, he catches me unaware
With piles of fallen leaves
And great boughs brought low.
And then I know
That all must go.
There was a young lady named Claire
Who kept a laptop in her hair.
Her friend Yvette
Used the internet
With that laptop in Miss Clair’s hair!
We chat over wine
For you are mine
For this little time.
And we both know
How this will go.
This night
Must end.
And the polite
Call us boyfriend
And girlfriend.
In a half dream
Words grow
Then go
On my changing screen.
Oh! sweet sleep
Make me free
Of poetry!
But no, for poetry
Is me.
There once was a girl named Strange
Who lived in a haunted old grange.
She called each ghoul
“You stupid old fool!”,
Which the ghouls found really quite strange!
As Halloween approaches
The vampire broaches
The possibility of me
Coming round for tea.
She says, “its good
To eat black pudd.
But I never will partake
Of any kind of steak!”.
I reply, “my dear Lou
I shall use garlic shampoo
When I visit this Halloween.
Lou! Why do you scream!”.
An intense sense
Of my mortality
Comes to me
When I hear
The sweet clear
Song of birds.
Oft when caught
In useless thought
Or in empty words,
I hear the birds.
I see beauty.
And am free
When a young lady named Miss Claire
Said, “why do the people all stare!”,
Her favourite aunt Rose
Passed her some clothes,
And the vicar fell off his chair!
As I grow older
A girl’s bare shoulder
And her sweet perfume
Still attracts. Distracts me.
But, when I hear
Her call me “Sir”,
Morning becomes late afternoon,
As night draws near.
There once was a girl named Prism
Who wrote a big book on Conservatism.
A young lady named Lou
Spanked men with her shoe.
But that’s nothing to do with Conservatism!
K Morris - Poet 