There was a young man called Dave
Who slept on a weathered old grave.
Late at night
Much to the ghost’s delight
Dave would rant and rave!
There Was A Young Man Called Dave
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I am Told
I am told
That one is getting old
When policemen look younger than you.
I’m sure that’s true
But when girls say
In a friendly sort of way
That their dad has the same interests as you,
Then what is a guy to do
Other than smile and accept
That age
Has crept
Up on him like a thief in the bleak night
And that although he may, in the company of young women delight
He must
For the purposes of love or lust
Engage with women of a similar age
As no
Young ladies desire
A grey haired sire.
But oh!
If he have money it may be so …!
The Hands Are Almost At Half-Past
The hands are almost at half-past.
Will the clock last
The hour?
A sudden shock
Can stop
The clock
At …
And what of that?
For clocks
Are like flies,
One dies
But the great tick tock
Continues on,
Though one is gone.
Sunlight And Shade
Sunlight and shade
A girl made
With tresses brown
As Autumn’s gown.
I lay me down
Upon the forest’s ground
And lost myself there.
But oh despair
For when I awoke
And her name spoke
She was no longer there.
I am a fool
To think my mistress cruel.
Her beauty is beyond art
But lose not your heart
To her
For there is no heart to lose
In return
And as surely as the earth does turn
There is no love to return.
Everyone Has Their Thing
Alert: Risque humour below:
Everyone has their thing
Or most people do,
Whether it be a high-heel shoe
Or string,
Most people have their thing.
Alert!
The prim secretary, in her conservative skirt
And the sober executive, in his crisp white shirt,
All have their kink,
The chains that clink,
The Fluffy handcuff
And other such stuff.
Yes I think
That everyone has their kink.
But it simply won’t do
To dwell on the stiletto shoe
For I am a bore
And my thoughts are pure.
The Leaves Are Falling Down By Laura Routh
I enjoyed Laura Routh’s poem “The Leaves Are Falling Down”, https://owlinthewood.com/blog/2018/5/19/first-poem-the-leaves-are-falling-down. For me, the poem isn’t merely about the forest ageing and the coming of Autumn, it also speaks of the harmful effect humans often have on the natural world.
A Short Analysis of A. E. Housman’s ‘Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying’
This is a beautiful poem and is (along with “On Wenlock Edge”) my favourite Housman poem.
‘Tell me not here, it needs not saying’ is one of the most famous poems from A. E. Housman’s second volume, Last Poems (1922). In this poem, which comes near the end of the collection, Housman reflects on his relationship with nature, before concluding that, although nature does not care or even know about him, he feels a close bond with it.
Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.
On russet floors, by waters idle,
The pine lets fall its cone;
The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
In leafy dells alone;
And traveller’s joy beguiles in autumn
Hearts that have lost their own.
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The World’s Oldest Profession Just Won’t Go Away
The All Party Parliamentary Group on Prostitution has recommended that paying for sex be criminalised (they argue that it is paying customers, mainly men, who are driving human trafficking and express concern regarding so-called “pop-up brothels”, where a property is rented for a short period then abandoned by the traffickers allowing them to stay one step ahead of the law.
This piece, by the Press association, https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/may/21/sexual-exploitation-uk-women-pop-up-brothels-report) reminds me of my poem “Circles” in which I ponder upon this highly contentious subject, https://newauthoronline.com/2016/07/15/circles/.
There Was A Young Lady Called Louise
There was a young lady called Louise
Who stole a set of keys.
On unlocking the bedroom door
Of a man named Moor
She found that he could tease …
—
An elderly poet called Jim
Married a young lady named Kim.
His verse was terse
And grew steadily worse
But the critics all loved Kim!
I Challenge You To…
Thanks to Esther Chilton for hosting this week’s challenge, in which she asked contributors to write a limerick, poem or story on the subject of holidays. You can find a number of contributions below, including a limerick and a poem composed by me. Kevin
This week’s challenge is to write a story, limerick or poem on the subject of:
Holidays
Last week’s challenge was to write about sunshine. You sent in some excellent pieces. Here are a few:
Keith Channing‘s limerick is hilarious – and so true!
Sometimes, when the weather is fine
We sit back with bread, cheese and wine
There is no way how
We could do that right now
COS WE AIN’T GOT NO BLOODY SUNSHINE!
Now an amusing one from Kevin:
Drinking wine
With my friend Divine
In the sunshine,
All was good
Until being drunk
As a skunk
She fell
In the mud.
But I promised not to tell
So please keep that
Under your hat …
Please visit The Militant Negro‘s blog for something a little different:
https://themilitantnegro.com/2018/05/10/i-challenge-you-to-sunshine/
And do take a look at Steve Walksky‘s blog for a warming read:
https://simplicitylane.wordpress.com/2018/05/15/sunshine-is-a-wakening-poem/
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K Morris - Poet 