I awake
With an old ache,
Half pleasure, half pain.
One can not
Refrain
From the red hot
Thought
One ought
Not to think
When dreaming (or awake).
The devil does wink
At my old ache,
Half pleasure, half pain
And whispers “you aint,
Got restraint
And you know,
You will go
There again,
And taste the kiss
From which you ought
To refrain.
And then deny
With the old lie,
Of thought”.
There once was a poet named Heart
Whose verse was so bleak and dark,
That a demon called Lee
Said, “I weep for thee”,
But his tears they just wouldn’t start!
The curtains where drawn.
The forlorn
Fact of an act,
Remembered, when alone
At home.
She was, perhaps Japanese,
And tried to please,
In english, broken, so softly spoken.
Something was said about a condom.
He did, then was gone.
Maybe, God sees.
There was a young lady named Beth
Who said, “I don’t believe in death”.
But, as she grew older
The world became ever colder,
And she started to believe in death.
When a young lady named Leigh
Said, “don’t you mess with me!”,
I said “its not my intention
To do the thing you mention,
Now shall we descend this tree?”.
In the garden of delight
Both day and night
The flower’s perfume
Enters the lover’s room.
Blouses are lost.
The mushroom
Rises. The frost
Will chill
The flower and mushroom,
Oh, so soon.
I find
That girls shoes
Prey on my mind
From time to time.
Did they choose
To wear those shoes?
(I speak here
Of women of a particular kind).
I fear
That stilettos,
Worn by girls from ghettos
Prey on my mind,
Although you will find
That there are a few
Young middle class women too.
When a young lady named Gwen
Said, “I am god’s gift to men”,
I said, “my dear sweet girl
You set my head in a whirl,
But could you return my pen?”.
When a religious young lady named White
Entered my bedchamber at midnight,
And I said, “please stay,
She said, “we should pray”,
And then she turned out the light.
The razor does go
To and fro
As he shaves me.
We speak of women,
And his hands go
To and fro.
“Would you like anything else?”, he asks,
His task
Maybe, complete.
I think of young women’s feet
But say,
“Not today”.
K Morris - Poet 