All around
I hear
The sound
Of birds in the graveyard near
To my home.
As I walk alone,
Through this place of bone,
A thought profound,
“Those underground
Can not hear”.
All around
I hear
The sound
Of birds in the graveyard near
To my home.
As I walk alone,
Through this place of bone,
A thought profound,
“Those underground
Can not hear”.
In a vase you stay.
Soon you will be thrown away
In a bin.
How can I atone for the sin
Of removing you from nature’s embrace
To this urban place?
I sentimentalise its true
For you never knew
Nature’s embrace,
But doctored grew
In a place
Of glass
Where people pass
And say
“Customers will pay
Good money for that rose
But, I suppose
This other lot should be thrown away”.
‘Tis man who should count the cost
Of nature’s lost
Embrace
As we on keyboards clack
For we lack
The will
To stand still
And listen to the bird,
For the word
heard is “progress”, symbolised by
Doctored flowers, that in a vase, die.
He can not afford
To pay for board
Or meals
For the bawd,
In heels
His life’s blood steals
As I lay in my bath soaking.
I felt a most painful poking,
Which caused me to glare
At a comedian named Claire,
Who maintains she was only joking!
There was a young man named Paul
Who said, “all empires, one day, fall”.
My friend Jill
Lives on a hill,
But that’s nothing to do with Paul!
If you dare
To say
(in the politest possible way)
That “the people in their judgement err”,
I swear
That the person of narrow mind
Will find
Some ugly word to throw at you.
“Fascist” or “elitist” they will cry.
I know that it is untrue,
But ’tis easier to lie
(Though inwardly you die),
Than to speak the truth
And have the roof
Come down on you,
For speaking what is true.
A transitory smile
From a girl in a stripped pine
Bar. No need to wine and dine.
Butterflies stay awhile
Then flit
In transit.
A flurry
Of skin against skin.
No need to curry
Favour, for the flavour
Of the month, soon will change.
“Call me”, she will say,
Then hurry
Away, to another flurry
Of skin against skin.
For there is no need to curry
Favour, for the flavour
Of the month is change.
On my way through the churchyard at midnight
I saw a young lady in white.
She sat on a post
Eating hot buttered toast,
And one grave it yawned empty that night.
I posted recently regarding a poetry reading (which has now taken place), https://kmorrispoet.com/2019/03/08/forthcoming-poetry-reading-and-a-selected-poems/. For various reasons the attendance was small, however this added to the intimacy of the occasion, as my fellow poets and I where able to interact much more with the audience than would have been possible, had the event been a larger gathering.
One of the poets who participated in the event was my friend, Toby Wheeler. Toby has kindly given permission for 3 of his poems to be reproduced below. Please note, all of these poems are copyright of Toby Wheeler and may not be reproduced without the explicit written permission of the poet.
—
We’d Fly Rings Around the Moon
On quiet nights,
I think of you
And the thought of your embrace.
If only your heart would know me,
We’d fly rings around the Moon.
When the sun breaks
And I wake
To find I am in love,
I get this hurt,
That lingers.
If only your heart would open,
We’d fly rings around the Moon.
To be your lover by night
And friend by day,
And really get to know you.
If only it would be – I know,
That one day,
We’d fly rings around the Moon.
You know I would,
I’d slash the sky
To spend a day with you.
And if you loved me true,
And dreams could be,
We would fly rings around the Moon.
Driftwood
Rolling on the ocean foam,
With skies above
And sharks below,
I ramble round the seven seas – to nowhere.
I twist in the current and churn with the waves,
Tempests crash,
Hurricanes pass,
The sunny days are welcome.
The peace and cold and wetness told,
And creatures use my shade as home;
For I’m shelter where hurt fish cry,
A lushes shade in this vastness supply.
But now I pose in a man-made shade
In an earthwork dug from spades;
As I reached a shore, was grabbed and adorned,
And in a landscape garden here was laid.
I wanna be your cup of tea
I wanna be the taste in your tea and the brew that makes you stormy,
I wanna be the Earl Grey’s warmth, that kisses and keeps you cosy;
I wanna be the soothing sip that ah-s you while at work; and be that very mug of builders that quenches your morning thirst;
I wanna be the honey lemon that always makes you smile, and be the one you moan to, over a camomile;
I wanna be your PG Tips, your Yorkshire on the side,
And love me like milk with one sugar, and keep me by your side;
At night I’ll be your human cosy, that’s sure to keep you warm,
And whatever life may throw at us, a cuppa will keep us calm.
I don’t want much, just want your love, the Earl to your Lady Grey;
And promise me you’ll let me be, forever your favourite, cup of tea.