He stood to the side of the path
So that I might in safety pass.
I turned my face away
On a beautiful, spring day.
But thanked him with a smile, while
Pondering on what constitutes a safe distance,
And the persistence
Of common courtesy.
And what did he
Think of me
As I turned my face away?
I can not say,
But suspect he understood
As we did pass
Along that tranquil, woodland path.
My poetic well is dry.
A virus of some kind
Slows my body and mind.
Much loved books remain untouched.
Sleep is my friend.
I know not where this will end.
There once was a god named Zeus
Who decided a nymph to seduce.
He plied her with fine wine
And on spaghetti rings they did dine.
And he bought her a chocolate mousse!
I love the sunlight
That comes and goes.
It is easy to write
Of eternal night,
And to compose
Flowery verses
About one’s mortality.
But many a poet curses
The reality
Behind his poetry.
An elderly poet named Coker
Wields a mean old poker.
When I said, “your verse is bad!”,
He called me a “rude young lad!”.
It’s painful being chastised with a poker!
A young lady who worked in a bar
Would, for the customers, take off her bra.
But, now the pubs are all closed
She keeps on all of her clothes.
Well, at least she keeps on her bra!
Oh creature of night,
Who flits, in dark
And by moonlight,
Why did you cry,
In the park
On a sunlit afternoon in Spring?
‘Twas a strange thing
To hear.
Yet I
felt no fear,
But pondered on your incongruous cry,
And a virus, invisible to the eye.
A young lady of Moldova
Stole my brand new pullover.
‘Twas in the woods at night
As I flew my old kite.
Please, has anyone seen my pullover?
A young lady named Bess
Has lost her dress,
While naughty Ms Lou
Has kept my shoe.
And me, I should confess …
A young lady by the name of Helen
Spent all of her short life in yellen.
She yelled so loud
It burst a cloud,
Which drowned that poor young lady named Helen!
K Morris - Poet 