The girl who was not
(In the orthodox sense)
A lover, got
Some recompense
From Lucre (her master).
They moved ever faster.
There was music and laughter,
But when Lucre ended
Disaster
Descended
Lucre
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I Am Overly Introspective
“I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all. Believe none of us”.
(“Hamlet”, Act 3, Scene 1).
I Heard A Rumour Today
I heard a rumour today
That yet another part
Of England’s heart
Is about to pass away.
Wilt
More flats be built
Where once there stood
A pub?
Shall beer and wine
Be replaced by the bottom line?
The drunkards now sing
But profit is king.
I see the open fire as I write
The coals all alight
And almost feel it’s blaze.
Shall profit’s craze
Erase all?
Let us raise a pint to the identikit
World into which we all must fit,
Where the suited and booted
Discuss the bottom line
While sipping their overpriced wine.
Of course it may not be true
In this particular case,
But England’s face
Is changing nonetheless.
My mistress’s green dress
Is frayed.
her lovers have strayed
– And the brewry’s bills must be paid
There Was A Young Milkmaid Named Howe
There was a young milkmaid named Howe
Who owned an extremely large cow.
A young man called Mike
Said “come ride on my bike”.
But the poor girl didn’t know how!
The Judge And The Prisoner
The judge put the black cap upon his head
And looking at the prisoner in the dock said,
“You are guilty of the slaughter
Of mother, son, father and daughter.
Down the years
You have provoked countless tears
And you shall pay
For your crimes today.
We have drugs that will keep you under control.
You have had your final soul.
I sentence you to perpetual irrelevance.
Now go you hence!”.
The Grim Reaper bowed his knee
And said “so shall it be.
I leave you in the hands of my good friend
Tedium Eternal, for death is at an end …”.
“Trash Girl” defies bullies for her environmental actions and is honoured in a superhero cartoon
The Rhyme Of Time
The clock
Does mock
His shoes
Her discarded sock.
“Those who in boudoirs stay
Will lose
Time
For they
Being at play
Do not hear
My chime,
Or perhaps out of fear
Turn a deaf ear
To the rhyme
Of time”.
A Call for Submissions: Future Poems!
Read the call for submissions on the Emma Press website and SUBMIT YOUR POEMS!
I’m really excited to be working with the amazing Emma Press, whose themed and illustrated anthologies are such things of beauty, as well as dry-witted fellow apocalyptician (that’s a mixture between apocalypse and magician and I’m not sure it works) Tom Sastry on this anthology. We want your poems about the future, whatever kind of future that might be: dystopian, utopian, one where we’re at the mercy of our robot overlords. Or what’s happening next week, or what to do with your life. Or a combination of any / many of these things.
You’ve got until April 1st to make your submission and I’m really looking forward to reading all the poems we receive, and even more to creating an anthology of them.
Another poem from my Youtube channel
“I Saw A Great Tent” can be found in my collection of poetry “My Old Clock I Wind”, http://moyhill.com/clock/.
I Hear The Tide’s Roar
I hear the tide’s roar
In a shell
That I keep near to me.
‘Tis some time since I walked along the shore.
But I know well
That the sea
Yearns to be free.
K Morris - Poet 