Autumn has not yet come.
Yet the sun shines
On dry leaves.
I find in my mind
That Autumn has come
And my leaves
Have Turned to grey.
But I am still here
In this fading year
Though my May
Has long since run away.
We go through birth.
Then, like leaves
We feed the earth.
But before we fall
We enjoy the bird’s call.
Though none can outrun
The setting sun.
She says that she used to see me
On her way to school.
As she pours my usual drink, I think
Of Larkin’s “The Old Fools”.
And I cast around for something to say
About my so ordinary day
When a beautiful young lady from Harwich
Went and boarded a first class carriage,
And a ticket collector named Glass
Said, “this ticket is second class!”.
She said, “but I am proposing marriage …!”
The ageless wind
In these waving trees
Whispers to me
Of eternity.
Passing by a lorry
I smile
At that metal thing.
So temporary.
While the wild wind
Is forever free.
A magician who is known as Grace
Has made many men vanish without trace.
There’s a magic spade
And a secluded glade.
And the police are looking for Grace …
A summer rain falls.
And birds sing.
The earth smells fresh.
But I recall
I have bills to pay.
Yet returning home
To my working day
I carry birdsong
And the rich earth
In my heart.
Nature’s art
Feeds my poetry.
Yet she
Outshines all poetry.
Heels at night
And creaking bedsprings.
A morning blackbird sings.
It’s song heard
By neighbours who delight
In what they overheard
The other night …
When a beautiful young lady said, “Kevin,
At seven I’ll send you to heaven!”.
I said to her, “darling Heather,
I look forward to the pleasure!”,
Then she produced a pistol at seven!
I have gone and bought a gorgeous AI
Who goes by the name of Miss Sky.
She says “as a robot,
I often get real hot”.
Then she smiles and bats her one eye …
When a young man known as Byron
Went and dated a sexy young Siren,
They found his socks
On some treacherous rocks.
But there was no sign of Byron …!
K Morris - Poet 