There once was a guy with a tie
Who was plagued by a very large fly.
When a girl called Yvette
Said, “is he your pet?”
He swatted that fly with his tie!
Guy with a Tie
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Tag Archives: croydon poets
Miss Prism
When a beautiful young lady named Miss Prism
Said, “the sun he has long since risen”.
I said, “the moon
Will come out soon –
And have you ever been good Miss Prism …!”
Your Shadow
On a day in early spring
I heard the birds sing
As we walked together
Through this ever-changing weather.
And as we walked
I wished to talk
With you my dear old friend.
But it was my shadow
That walked in sunshine
For you have crossed the line
Where all things end.
I cannot cry
Or go where you have gone,
Yet our friendship lives on
And one day I will become
A shadow in sun
And shade
For life is made
Of fleeting shadows
And I know
That I must one day go
Were you have gone.
But other men
May see my shadow
Walking beside them
And know me
And their own mortality.
A Square of Sunlight
I saw a square
Of sunlight fall
On my study wall.
It is no longer there –
We all borrow
Each joy and sorrow
Until our square
Vanishes into empty air.
I Feel the Wind
I feel the wind
On my skin
And hear him
Whisper in the trees
Reminding me of you.
I go in
And face my darkening window
Were I to die tonight
I would go happy –
Yet tomorrow will probably come.
I will walk in sun
Or rain.
Then, returning home again
I will face my window
But not the same
One as tonight
Short Walk
When I take the short walk
Through the churchyard, my thought
Often turns
To lessons not learned
And chances spurned.
And then I turn
To my so ordinary day
And say,
“I will learn!”
Yet still my way
Remains the same
Treadmill of pleasure and pain.
But my demons will stop
When the devil knocks
Eleanor Rigby Played
Eleanor Rigby played
As I sat at the table.
She was lonely.
Nothing stays.
I too am lonely at times
But rhymes
Keep me company.
We all must die
Lonely or Otherwise.
Makeup on girl’s eyes
Will not keep
Them from sleep.
And poetry has saved
None from the grave.
Yet later that same day
A child greeted me
In the cemetery
In early spring
Early March
Early March.
Winter’s last blast
Tries to deny
The spring
Grandiose
I shall compose
A poem grandiose
To love and lust
And how I just
Pricked my nose
On yonder rose!
Lost Glasses
When a Marxist who had lost his glasses
Said, “religion is the opiate of the masses”.
And I said, “How so?”
He said “I don’t know!
And comrade have you seen my glasses!”
K Morris - Poet 