How soon the scent
Of blossom is spent
In the rain.
These little flowers
No not hours,
While I pass by
In unending rain.
Blossom in the Rain
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Waitresses
I have taken delight
In Waitresses at night
And in the morning find
The same cold rain
And thoughts of the waitress
I so lovingly undressed
In my so fertile mind.
Grass
Some men take their pleasure
Amidst the sweet heather
With a pretty young lass.
But all grass
Turns to hay
And the poor poet’s lay
Must end in dust.
Simulation
When I met a philosopher of this nation
Who said, “we’re all living in a simulation”.
I gave him a big kick
And whacked him with a stick,
Which was fine as we’re in a simulation!
The Power of Words
You took your shoes
And left me alone in my flat.
Your right to choose,
I can’t argue against that.
Fantasies oft run riot
In a man’s fevered head.
Better to stay quiet,
For such things can not be unsaid.
Poetry
Poets compose rhyme
In perfect time
To love and art
While the newsreaders tell
How We’re going to hell
In a battered old handcart.
Morn
In the early morn
The carpet is warm
Under my feet
As I recall
How leaves fall
In the wood nearby.
The seasons repeat.
But I will die.
The Joys of Being a Pig
There was a young lady named Pam
Who liked to gorge on boiled ham.
When they said, “you’re a pig!”,
She would chew on her wig
As she rolled in marmalade and jam!
Royal Mail
When a young lady wearing just socks
Jumped out from a red pillar box ,
And a postman named Marr
Said, “want to go far?”,
She said, “well, I’m wearing just socks …”.
Time for Bed
When a young lady dressed in red
Pulled me into a very large bed
I said to her, “Hop!
You and I should stop!
As the customers have turned bright red!”.
K Morris - Poet 