The cold bites hard
In the churchyard.
The temperature is zero.
I know
These fallen leaves
Do not deceive.
My autumn has come.
And alone
I go home
Heading for the churchyard
Cold
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Urgent message to all my friends, blog readers and followers…
I’m having problems because the battery has died on my laptop and I’m waiting for a new cable so I can charge it again, as a problem is emanating from the cable.
Therefore, I’m unable to blog at the moment.
I’ll be back online as soon as possible.
Kevin Morris
Autumn Days
As I stood
In the leaf-strewn wood
Listening to birdsong,
I heard the leaves
Falling from trees
And thought how short
Is our birdsong.
And the Autumn breeze
Scented with leaves
Spoke of the joy
Of temperate days.
Yes, everything must decay.
But autumn lawns
Are covered in acorns
And children play
As I once did
When I hid
Amidst these Autumn trees
And fallen leaves.
Soap on a Rope
When a careless young man named Cope
Went and swallowed soap on a rope,
They feared he might fall
But he said, “not at all!
I’ll hold the rope on this soap!”
Gwen the Hen and a Fox Called Ken
There once was a hen named Gwen
Who dated a fine fox called Ken.
They met for a meal
And I really do feel
That we won’t be seeing Gwen again …
Our Own Hell
I heard school children at play
On a late December day.
Soon I will turn 57.
Will I be nearer to heaven?
Or to hell?
I’ve heard mythologists tell
How gods play
With women and men,
And how we have no chance against them.
On this winter’s day
In late December, I know that our fate
Lies in man’s hands.
When the jackboots stamp in the concentration camps
Men create living hell
And no gods weep.
Gus and the Bus
When a daring young man known as Gus
Suggested we all make love on the bus!
And Miss Leven said, “Kevin!
Do take me to heaven!”.
I wondered, is it that kind of bus?
Cook’s New Poetry Book
When a poet whose name was Cook
Went and published a new poetry book,
And a young man called Frank
Said, “the pages are all blank!”.
“That’s because it’s blank verse!”, said Cook.
The Importance of Discretion
My friend, who lacks any kind of discretion
Has an obsession with the world’s oldest profession.
At just gone midnight
I met Miss White
Who said, “your friend he lacks any discretion …!”
Miss Ice
A young lady known as Miss Ice
Has a reputation for not being nice.
Her real name is Coral
And she’s so very immoral!
But to me she’s always been nice …!
K Morris - Poet 