I awake by you,
(Your headphones in).
I guess they quiet
The inner din
Of your unquiet mind)
Despite my desire
To avoid your fire
I have held you tight
For another night
Finding in your kiss
A kind of passing bliss
Tasting of perfume
Cigarettes and regret.
When my busy thoughts
For a moment, stop,
I become aware
Of the clock
Ticking away my day.
I may turn away
And write.
But old Time
Will not delay
The night
To accommodate my rhyme.
I met a young man named Wong
Who spoke of wine, women and song.
When I said, “is that Housman?”,
He said, “no, it is Dowson!”.
He’s an educated young man is Wong!
A hyacinth’s scent last night
Brought such delight
To me as she stood,
Pure and white
In her box of wood.
Others unopened stood
In that box of wood.
They will flower and die
As will I.
The binmen know
Where the single go
For solitary takeaway.
The meal for 1
Fills the trash
While the used condom
Is often found
On the needled ground
But no cash
Equals no company.
An interesting piece on Medium entitled What is the Purpose of Poetry? https://medium.com/the-howling-owl/what-is-the-purpose-of-poetry-147ba89ef9b0.
For me, poetry is valuable in and of itself. As with love and friendship it matters because it matters. If you where to pin me down and insist that I provide a fuller explanation, then I would say that poetry matters because it stirs the emotions. It speaks to who we are/explores what it is to be human.
As an aside, I am often puzzled by those who derive great pleasure from pop music (which almost invariably rhymes), yet dislike poetry, much of which rhymes! Perhaps the dislike by some of poetry stems from them having it drummed into them at a tender age rather than having discovered it for themselves.
My love of poetry was sparked by a school teacher, Mr Delacruz who recorded several cassettes for me, including a number of poems. In addition, I spent many hours in the school library discovering poetry for myself via anthologies such as Palgrave’s Golden Treasury and the Oxford Book of English Verse.
As always, I would be interested to hear your views regarding the purpose of poetry/what poetry means to you.
I know a young lady named Pearl
Who sets my head in a whirl.
I think I’m in love
As with her boxing glove
She sets my head in a whirl!
I have passed tombs
In the sunshine
And in the gloom
Pondering on rhyme
And my fleeting time.
Scented with perfume
She passed the dead
Who lay entombed
In their unenvied bed
And the dead slept on
When she was gone.
We find brevity in lust
And permanence in dust.
Your kiss
A mingling of perfume
With cigarettes.
Led inexorably to bed.
Later I found
Heels in my bedroom
And your perfume
On my dressing gown.
Smoke no longer lingers.
But I find
Sharp teeth and fingers
Occupy my mind.
I once met a vampire named Keith
Who showed me his very sharp teeth.
When he gnashed his great fangs
I fed him with gran’s meringues
Which poisoned that poor vampire named Keith!
K Morris - Poet 