I drink my wine,
As evening gently falls.
And listen to bird calls.
Their poetry, far surpasses mine.
I Drink My Wine
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Tag Archives: blogging
When A Young Lady Hiding In A Bush
When a young lady hiding in a bush
Said, “look, is that a blackbird or thrush!”,
An elderly gentleman passing by
Said, “oh my, oh my,
That is a talking bush!”.
Prostitute and Client
At a time meant for dolls
A boy, almost twice her age . . .
Her texts lack many LOLS.
Now they engage
Beneath the quilt.
Should he feel guilt?
She is no girl now,
But a woman of legal age.
He wonders how
And why?
Inwardly heaves a sigh,
And pays.
Whilst Strolling in the Hot Summer Weather
Whilst strolling in the hot summer weather
I met a young lady of pleasure.
She stole my wallet and coat
Then rode away on a goat,
Whilst dressed in stilettos and leather!
Hypocrisy
Those who would deny
That we are all hypocrites to some extent,
Should repent
Of their lie!
A few,
Its true
Maybe naive,
And themselves deceive.
Yet I
Say that most men, deliberately lie.
So I
Will try
Not to condemn
Other men
Lest they should find me out
And, from the church rooftops shout,
“Sir, you also, lie!”.
Some possess the art
To conceal, within their heart,
Their own hypocrisy. But conscience or fear
Does, in their nightmares shout,
“Your fellow man may find you out!”.
A Woodland Walk
I walk the man-made
Woodland path,
Where past
Lovers played.
Today, lovers still laugh,
And sigh.
Whilst I
Pass by
An old oaktree,
Which has stood
In this ancient wood,
Long before, them, and me.
When A Young Lady Named Claire
When a young lady named Claire
Went, with her feet bare,
And a very short dress,
Into the Officer’s mess,
I wish that I’d been there!
When My Friend Whose Name is Mia
When my friend whose name is Mia
Said, “tell me what I want to hear!”.
I said, “you are witty,
And more than just pretty.
Now please give me back my beer!”.
When Visiting My Friend The Squire
When visiting my friend the squire
I met a young housemaid named Moriah.
Who was in a state of undress
Which, I must most earnestly stress,
Had nothing to do with the squire!
You May Speak of Morality
You may speak of morality
But when
Lonely men
Feel their mortality,
What chance
Has philosophise,
When man can
Enjoy The ancient dance,
Of a professional’s, calculating, eyes?
K Morris - Poet 