There once was an author named Dickens
Who wrote a novel all about chickens.
It lay undiscovered for years
Among some old bottled beers
And a spinster who kept drunken chickens!
Chickens and Bottled Beer
2 Replies
Category Archives: poems
No Soul
There once was a young man named Mole
Who said, “I believe you have no soul!”
An old person called Neville
Said “I’m not the devil!”
And his eyes they blazed like hot coal …!
Writing
I like to write
But sometimes the rhymes won’t come.
In the morning sun
I have written of pretty flowers
Who know not hours
And clocks that tick the day away.
At times I write
Of midnight doors where young women knock
And pause for a while
(but never stop).
My verse makes readers smile
While others curse.
But I can not deny
That sometimes the rhymes
Just won’t come.
Nails
She drunk, showing me
Her nails I can not see.
I drink my brandy
And try my best to engage
With a girl half my age.
Its hard to explain
To her drunken brain
That I am unable to see.
So I sip my brandy
And imagine her fingernails
She left with her friend.
I can not pretend
That there was no attraction
At least on my part.
A passing distraction
Turns into art.
Red
When a young lady in red
Invited me to come to bed
I said, “dear Miss Moore!
This is a furniture store!
And the manager has turned red!”
Poetry Reading by Poet Kevin Morris on Saturday 8 November from 2-3 pm at Ashburton Library, Croydon
As previously mentioned here, I will be reading my poetry at Ashburton Library, Shirley Road, Croydon tomorrow, Saturday 8 November from 2-3 pm. Admission is free and refreshments will be provided. If you are in the vicinity it would be good to meet you.
Please feel free to just turn up. Or, if you wish to book please call 0207 8845175 or visit An Afternoon of Poetry with Kevin Morris | Croydon Libraries
Slower Time
Alexa plays
As my clock chimes
Reminding me of slower days.
When Father Time
Kept a steady pace.
Many have vanished without trace.
This rhyme
Will not save
Me from the grave
And if people should find
My poetry
It will not profit me.
Yet I must write
For the night
Will end all my poetry
Cerebral
A young lady who is really most cerebral
Said, “your poetry it is so very terrible!”
I said to her, Jane,
You have a great brain,
But your manners they are really most terrible!”
Her Umbrella
You left your umbrella behind
For me to find.
I remember, it had ducks.
I let you know.
But we did not go
Down that path again.
Still I remember the ducks
And she who came
To me in the rain.
Halloween Poems
In honour of the horror of Halloween, and to make you scream:
Will You Go?
“Will you join in death’s dance
And find romance
In Hades below?
Touch my skin
Soft as snow.
My love will you go
Where the death lilies grow?”
Halloween:
Light fades.
Shades
In forgotten graves
Stir.
Black cats purr.
Despair
On a broomstick travels.
Joy unravels
As hope dies
And the vampire flies
Through pitch black skies.
(The above poems can be found in my collection, Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind Lost in the labyrinth of my mind eBook : Morris, K.: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
K Morris - Poet 