I heard a Blackbird
And did curse
The inadequacy of verse.
He knows not poetry,
Yet outdoes me
In verse.
The Inadequacy of Verse
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Category Archives: musings
A Brutal Young Man Named Keith
A brutal young man named Keith
Threatened to knock out my teeth.
But I produced my faithful knuckleduster,
Which got him in a fluster,
Now Keith is wearing false teeth …!
Squire Pleasant
My uncle, the good natured Squire Pleasant
Invited me to go and shoot peasant.
I went with my spouse
And found peasants and grouse,
And the police who arrested Squire Pleasant!
I Have Awoken to an Empty Bed
I have awoken to an empty bed
And recollections of past sinning
With women.
I have felt spiritually dead
And fought to forget regret
In bed.
But, for a long time
I have engaged
Only in rhyme.
When I leave the stage
Only my rhyme may remain.
For there is no pain when dead.
When Dreams Turn to Nightmares
When dreams turn to nightmares
On endless dark stairs
And you are alone
In your castle of bones,
And you pray
For the day
That may never come,
You are in the nightmare
Of despair,
Where there is nowhere
To run.
When they speak of light
You see only night,
But the endless black stairs
Of your nightmares
May melt away
Into the day
And the sun
May come.
Should I Make a Full Confession
Should I make a full confession
Concerning my most recent shocking indiscretion?
It concerns Miss Amy
And her girlfriend Jamie –
And a lawyer who advised discretion …!
The Fox’s Bark
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
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!
Time Depletes
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.
Darkening
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.
K Morris - Poet 