A young lady whose name is Ling
Tied me up in the budding spring,
And when the summer came
She did exactly the same.
I wonder what the autumn will bring?
A Young Lady Whose Name Is Ling
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My “Selected Poems” is now available for purchase in the Kindle store
I am delighted to announce that my Selected Poems is now available for purchase in the Amazon Kindle store.
If you are a UK customer please click here, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WW8WXPP/. Or for the US or elsewhere, please follow this link, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.
A paperback edition will be available in the next couple of weeks, and an announcement will appear here once the print book is available for purchase.
Book Description:
This book encompasses poems composed between 2013-19. The poems included here have been selected from Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind, My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems, The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems, Dalliance; a Collection of Poetry and Prose, Refractions, and The Girl who Wasn’t There.
In addition, a number of previously unpublished poems are included in this book.
The poems range from those dealing with nature to others, which touch on the passage of time and mortality.
(For links to my previously published books, please visit my website’s “About” page, https://kmorrispoet.com/about/).
I Know A Young Lady Named Hortense
I know a young lady named Hortense
Whose poems just do not make sense!
She writes them in latin
Whilst dressed in pink satin,
And they’re all in the present tense!
I know a young lady named Hortense
Whose poems just do not make sense!
She writes them in latin
Whilst dressed in pink satin,
And I wish she’d mend my fence!
Fantasies
When fantasies turn
To reality
Often we learn
The meaning of banality
Yet we
Continue to experiment,
Then repent,
Experiment, then repent,
In a dance of monotony
Where He and She
Lose all touch with reality.
When A Young Lady Named Kate
When a young lady named Kate
Invited me out on a date,
My good friend Miss Lou
Lost more than her shoe,
But we all enjoyed our date!
Some Find It Easy To Write About Death
Some find it easy to write about death
And readers raise
A glass in praise
Of their art.
Larkin feared the loss of breath
And, in Aubade
Played out his fears.
Whilst others hide inside
Their art
The fear that lurks within their heart.
When I Found A Young Lady Named Lin
When I found a young lady named Lin
Hiding in my kitchen bin
I said, with a sigh,
“I’m an open minded guy,
But to hide in my bin is a sin!”.
Parasite
You called him, who does lack
The capacity to answer back
A “parasite”.
Whilst its undoubtedly true
That you have a right
To your point of view,
I do wonder what use are you
To society But, out of propriety
Of course I didn’t say that . . .
When A Young Lady Of An Ancient Profession
When a young lady of an ancient profession
Said, “sir, I must make a shocking confession,
Do you know
A bishop Jo?”,
I replied, “dear madam, please show some discretion!”.
Dead Stop
Perhaps some things should not be said
In poetry,
Or maybe
They can not be said
Meaningfully by me.
As does nearly always happen
My train stopped, dead
At Clapham
(Though not for its proper, brief
Stay). We did not pull away.
What can be said
About grief
(Not experienced by me)?
Perhaps some things should not be said
In poetry.
When, that evening I came back
The track at Clapham
Was clear.
We made good time.
Though a drear
Thought did cross my mind,
But I find
That some things can not easily be said
In rhyme
By me, as I sit here, warm
Thinking of the ajacent platform
And how our train stopped, dead,
But, perhaps some things should not be said
In poetry,
Or at least by me.
K Morris - Poet 