Thinking of a young woman I met,
I enter my bathroom.
No scent of perfume,
Just cars, in the distance passing by.
There is nothing to regret
So why do I
Think on a young woman I met
And cars passing me by?
Passing
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Category Archives: musings
Great Feedback On My “Selected Poems”
I was delighted to receive the following email earlier today:
“Dear Mr Morris,
I am writing to tell you that your poems in “The Collected Poems of K Morris” that you gave me on the train on my way to college are exceptional. You might not remember me but I am the girl doing politics and history that you met on the train and gifted your amazing book to. I have always been interested in writing poems and therefore you have really inspired me to carry on my interest and write some poems of my own. I would really like to thank you for gifting me your book and inspiring me to continue writing”.
“The Selected Poems of K Morris” can be found here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WW8WXPP/ (for the UK), and here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/. (for amazon.com customers).
(Please note, I have not included the young lady’s name in order to protect her privacy).
Shy Girl
As the vicar spoke of hell fire, and how the wicked are condemned to eternal torment, the sexton gazed sideways at his youngest daughter – a girl with the figure of a dancer. A real heart breaker he thought, and yet she was pure as the newly fallen snow on the nearby moors, before the cattle had trampelled through the drifts, leaving their footprints and dung behind.
Alice, (his 18-year-old daughter) sat, her eyes half closed in the pew, a dreamy expression on her face. Her prayer book lay open (but unheeded) on her lap.
—
“Can I help you miss?”, the shop girl said to the young woman who stood, her nails digging into her palms at the counter.
“Yes err … err”.
The shop assistant repressed a sigh. She’d seen it all before,but couldn’t help getting impatient at times.
“Miss?”
“I’d …”,
The assistant smiled encouragingly.
“Do you have, whips?”, the young woman whispered, her face turning the colour of beetroot.
The assistant reached under the counter and withdrew 2 whips. One was of the fluffy, joke variety, whilst the other was of the kind used by jockeys.
“I’ll take that one”, the young woman said, pointing to the fearsome looking riding crop.
“Cash or card, Miss?”.
“Oh god, no card, cash!”, the customer said, her hands fumbling in her purse.
—
“This rounds on me”, the young student said.
“Thanks”, Marie said. And as her friend went to the student bar to pay for 10 drinks, Marie wondered, as she had on many previous occasions, where her friend got the money for those expensive clothes and the leather handbag she sported.
—
With trembling hands the vicar typed, “Saturday at 9 pm. Usual place. OK with you?”. Then moistening his dry lips he clicked send.
—
“There’s this new club opening in town this Saturday. Are you up for it?”, Marie said.
“Nope, sorry, I’m visiting my family this Saturday”, Alice said and, despite her best eforts her cheeks burned …
Gulls
I
Hear the seagulls cry,
In Liverpool,
And recall my grandfather, who said,
“They warn of a storm
out at sea”.
Am I a fool
To believe what he said?
I know that the ocean’s commotion
Will long outlast me,
And the waves will still roar
When man is no more.
Duck
Girls from ghettos
In cheap
Stilettos
Keep
The numbers of regulars on their mobile.
And, when down on their luck
Will text, or phone
And say, to men who are alone,
“Let me make you smile.
Come and feed a duck.
And lonely men reach for bread
For the duck
Must be fed
‘Ere a man’s need
For spilled
Seed,
Can be fulfilled.
Travelling By Train, At Night
Travelling by train
At night,
The light
Of another train
Passes by,
Then is gone,
It’s light
Lost in night.
And my
Wheels clack on,
Their sound
Echoing around,
Until my light
And sound,
Are lost in night.
When The Clock Does Stop
When the clock
Does stop,
You can wind
It again.
But when
The brain,
(Some say mind)
Ceases to be,
What shall become
Of you and me?
For there is no sun
To see,
And we,
Can not rewind.
“Home for Christmas” anthology free to download from The Reader
The Reader, (which is based at Calderstones in Liverpool), are offering a free “Home for Christmas” anthology. Being from that great city and, of course a poetry lover, I was keen to download and enjoy the anthology, which can be found here, https://www.thereader.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Home-for-Christmas.pdf.
“The Home for Christmas” anthology contains poems by Shakespeare, Robert Browning and Christina Rossetti amongst others.
Kevin
I Prefer My Comfortable Old Armchair
I prefer
My comfortable old armchair;
And the tick tock
Of my clock
With it’s traditional chime;
And poetry that rhymes.
To a world where
My old armchair
Is replaced
By minimalist furniture;
Clocks have a digital face
(And do not chime);
And I am told, that rhyme
Is out with the present time.
I Saw A Child
I saw a child
In a pram
And smiled
For I am
Always glad
To see
A happy
Child.
Then, I was half-sad
That I have
No children to leave behind.
But then my mind
Turned to climate change, and I
Was half-glad
That when I die,
I will have
None to leave behind.
K Morris - Poet 