When a young lady waving a rifle
Said, “I hope you like my trifle”.
I said, “it’s very good,
But, I was wondering could,
You please stop waving around that rifle!”.
When A Young Lady Waving A Rifle
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Tomorrow
We may
Never see tomorrow.
For each moment we borrow.
And tomorrow’s sun
Must become,
Today.
There Once Was A Poet Named Lyme
There once was a poet named Lyme
Who composed poems about nothing but time.
Whilst drinking one day,
The sky turned grey.
And the great publican, he called time.
Clock
I forget the ticking of the clock.
But recollect it, when I stop.
Is time benign?
Long after
I have reached my end,
Perchance a friend,
Suddenly hearing the tick tock
Of the clock
Will think on former laughter,
And their own, inevitable end.
The Arts
After she departs
To a destination unknown
He texts her phone
With a “thank you”.
The arts may capture
A true
Lover’s rapture.
Or gratitude to an actress, who played
Her part, to perfection, on his stage.
Glass
A glass
Reflects.
No respect
Or disrespect
For girls who pass.
It’s just his glass.
Flowers In My Mum’s Garden
Flowers in my mum’s garden
Bring to mind
A former time
When my grandfather grew roses.
I remember the scent
Of roses in his garden.
And my attempt
To make perfume.
In youth
Few engage with age.
And the truth
That roses,
Are gone so soon.
A Young Lady Whose Name Is Alice
A young lady whose name is Alice
Lives in a place called Crystal Palace,
Where she works in a sauna
With my good friend Miss Warner.
But I’ve not yet met Miss Alice.
Leigh’s Kiss
When a young lady named Leigh
Bestowed a soft kiss on me.
And her big boyfriend called Jack
Gave me a look most black,
I ran and climbed a tree!
Reluctant To Leave The Wind
Reluctant to leave the wind
I paused at my door,
For no man can be sure
When this fragile thing,
We call life, will end.
K Morris - Poet 