Cold day.
No sun
Does say
Late Autumn
Has come.
Late Autumn
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Tag Archives: blogging
Nabokov Coughs
Nabokov coughs.
Lolita passes through the ages
Captured, in a novel’s pages.
The novelty of sin
Wears thin.
Is there a heart
To find behind
This dark art.
My Hair
When a young lady named Claire
Started to pull on my hair,
I, being no masochist
Said, “you must desist!”.
But Claire really liked my hair!
An Ageing Libertine
An ageing libertine
Whose every dream
Has been achieved, grieves
For he sees
The same, inane
Undressing. Caressing. Undressing. caressing.
Lost in alcohol.
Each girl a doll
To be undressed.
Caressed. Undressed. Caressed. Undressed.
But, behind all his lust
Lurks his fear of dust.
A Grave Situation
When a corpse whose name was Dave
Jumped out of a most ancient grave
And said to me,
“Come round for tea”.
I said, “Dave, I’m not that brave!”.
The Subjective Appreciation of Art
When a young lady posing in the nude
Said, “you may all think me extremely rude!”,
The good bishop Heart
Admired her fine art.
But his wife said something really quite crude!
A Young Lady Named Miss Whiting
A young lady named Miss Whiting
Hosts parties which are always exciting.
We eat lots of cake
And swim in her lake.
And then there comes the exciting!
Beyond Dark and Light
Beyond dark
And light,
I face
Eternal night.
On Awakening One Hot Summer Morn
On awakening one hot summer morn
I gazed at the beautiful Dawn.
And said, with a start,
Why bless my old heart!
How did you get here Dawn!”.
I Rarely Write At Night
I rarely write
At night,
When the light
Grows dim.
For the line
Betwixt sleeper’s breath,
And death,
Is passing thin.
K Morris - Poet 