In the library I would look at books
And seashells, so near to shelves
Drowning in books.
At the time this seemed incongruous to me.
But now I see no incongruity
For the sea
Will, one day, sweep all this culture away
Leaving only shells.
When a haughty young lady named Kath
Demanded that I run her a bath,
And I said, “do it yourself!”
She said, “but I’m an elf!”. ,
I said, “go magic your own bath!”
As I sit thinking about poetry
I hear the birds calling to me.
I spend far too much time
Pondering on rhyme,
While the sun rises and sets
On my regrets,
So soon lost in the great maelstrom
Of whirling time.
A most respectable gentleman of the church
Would like to bring back the birch.
His friend Miss Wood
Believes that is good,
And likes to give him the birch!
When I saw Eliot doing a handstand
I asked him to explain the Wasteland.
He said, “my poem is complex
And many people it has vexed!”.
I said, “yes! That I can understand!”
I leave the pub behind
And find
In the song of birds
The truth not heard
In the words
Of men
Who prate and hate.
So I listen to birds
And purifying rain
For there is no hate
In birds or rain.
She removed her dress
Giving him access
To all her parts
Except her heart
There once was a poet named Ron
Who said, “poetry is for everyone!”,
But when he wrote on a bus
The driver created such a fuss!
As he didn’t like poetry or Ron!
When a young lady known as Rusty
Said, “you Sir are old and crusty!”.
I said to her, “Miss,
Some girls bring great bliss.
But you Miss are so very rusty!”
There once was a Labrador called Jeff
Who took a job as a chef.
He ate all the food
And was thought very rude,
But he loved his job did Jeff!
K Morris - Poet 