I have heard the tick tock
Of my old clock
And listened to young women’s feet
Beating out a rhyme
Of passing time
On the indifferent street
Where loneliness meets,
For a little while,
With a smile
Cold as gold.
Passing Time
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Tag Archives: crystal palace poetry
Poetry Reading at the Royal Albert Pub in Upper Norwood, London SE19, at 7 pm on Tuesday 13 August
A poetry reading will be taking place at the Royal Albert pub, Upper Norwood, London SE19, at 7 pm on Tuesday 13 August. There are 10 minute slots available.
For information on the Royal Albert pub please follow this link https://www1.camra.org.uk/pubs/royal-albert-upper-norwood-141485. Please feel free to turn up on the evening. However, should you have any queries regarding the event please contact Kevin at kmorrispoet (at) gmail .com. The email address is rendered thus in order to prevent spam.
Kevin
In the Doctors Surgery
Through the open door of the surgery
Comes the summer breeze.
Often the wind sings in the tree
Or plays with leaves
Fallen on the path. And in these leaves
And the windswept tree
I know we are bound for the ground.
Bad Poetry
When a rude and unfeeling young lad
Said, “your poems are so very bad!”.
I wept full sore
And said, “tell me more!”,
As I soundly thrashed that lad!
Whilst Singing a Very Old Hymn
Whilst singing a very old hymn
I spied that sinful Miss Lin.
She spoke of pleasure
In the sweet heather,
And I stopped singing that hymn …
Just Another Lover
She knocks on another lover’s door
Although she’s never seen him before.
After a drunken carouse
She loses her blouse
As with other lovers before.
His mirror has reflected back
The white and black.
Another lover passing through his door
He’s never seen before.
He gives her a token.
His love is spoken,
As so many times before
In cold hard gold
Which opens more than doors.
The Dangers of Catching a Cold
When Rose took all her clothes off
The dear old vicar began to cough.
The weather being cold
Rose was most bold!
And the vicar he developed a cough …!
Dave Who Shaved on a Grave
When a young man named Dave
Decided to shave on a grave,
And a ghastly ghoul
Called him a fool,
He gave that knave a shave!
Cardiff Castle Library
In the past, the leisured class
Would have time to feed their minds
In this place of tall bookshelves,
Whilst servants, unseen, would cook and clean.
And the workmen who built this place of stone?
Their names are unknown,
But perhaps a thoughtful member of the upper class
Thought on those who toiled
And oiled the machine
As he sat at his books.
And knew the whole would collapse
Where not each man to play his part
In maintaining the machine.
—
This poem was sparked by a recent visit to Cardiff Castle’s Library https://www.cardiffcastle.com/rooms/library/
Post Modern Poetry
The vast majority of my poetry is written in traditional forms (mainly using rhyme). I was therefore interested to come across this blog post on Post Modern poetry https://katyrachelmartin.wordpress.com/2024/07/25/587/
K Morris - Poet 