When I die
What will people see
In my poetry?
Will they read me
At all?
I will not know
Whether tis so
For in my pall
My poetry
Must surely go.
Though perhaps it may
Not be so.
When I Die
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Tag Archives: blogging
Sex Kitten
A young lady who comes from Britain
Is known as a great sex kitten.
My dear old dog
Is known as Hogg,
And my kitten she comes from Britain …!
Permanence
Sometimes I think
On permanent things:
The birds that sing,
The grand old churches
And the trees.
Then the breeze,
Mingling with the rain
Shows what will remain.
When you and me
Are as the tree.
When I Bought a Fine Old Castle
When I bought a fine old castle
The resident vampire caused me great hassle.
Both her and a ghost
Would eat all my toast!
So I decided to leave for Newcastle!
I Have Awoken, After Wine
I have awoken, after wine,,
With a girl who’s heart
Was not mine,
And romanticising her in rhyme,
Have created art
Through a lie.
But love and lust
Both end in dust.
And there I
Must one day lie.
Naughty Lou
When a naughty young lady named Lou
Said, “Kevin, I really do miss you!”,
I said to her, “honey,
You miss all my money!”,
She said, “yes, that is perfectly true!”.
A Poet Entranced
A poet entranced
By branches that dance
In summertime.
Lost in rhyme
he walks the same
Woodland path
After sweet rain.
Nature laughs
As branches pour
Forth their store
Of sweet summer rain
When the Telescreens Went on the Blink
When the telescreens went on the blink,
A few took a lover
But, most, being fearful of Big Brother
Did not think
To riot. The Proles stayed quiet,
(Though members of the Thought Police
Where found drowned
In the poorer quarters of town).
Then, when the telescreens all got restored,
Things went on just as before.
Passing Time
My clock chimes
On a spring day.
Women and wine
Are mine,
But my springtime
Has passed
And the fast
Tick tock
Of antique clocks
Appeals not
To girls in heels
Who do not
Feel their clock
Soon must stop.
In My Lonely Hours
In my lonely hours
I have known
The pull of flowers.
I have grown
Weary of being alone
And bought wine
And flowers
To while
Away the time
With painted smiles
And blossom,
Fallen as I.
K Morris - Poet 