The rain has come.
Some wait for the sun.
I wonder about thunder
And think on the tree
Outside my window.
In all probability
It will outlast me.
Though storm may bring it low
Ere I go
To become as one with sun
And life-giving rain.
He tries for a kiss.
Her lips are dry
And her mouth remains closed.
She gave consent
To loss of clothes.
For his extra expense
She will kiss.
But he knows
She feels no bliss
And yearns to turn
From ageing lips.
Yet still they kiss
After wine.
Her leg on mine.
Her hands.
And youthful bust
All command my lust.
She leaves her scent behind.
I drink it in.
There are no ties to bind.
So some would call it sin.
I see my shadow with me
On an autumn day.
In the charms of girl’s arms
I forget my shadow
But he does not forget me .
All this talk
Of gaudy baubles bought
Ends in nought.
Warm in my bed
Thor’s great roar shook me
Out of my complacency.
These thoughts in my head
Will die. But Thor
And the rain will remain.
This civilisation is in denial.
We hide behind technology
While the weather gods smile
At our naivety,
Biding their time
When you hugged me tight
I will not deny that something stirred.
I think of you at night
And recall your frequent touch.
Such frustration and delight!
Is it fear of dust
Which feeds my lust
And causes me to long for thee?
You are lonely too
I know. but you say, “go slow”.
I am a patient man.
But life is passing by
Both you and I.
In late August, the wind blows dust
And a plastic bag flaps.
Perhaps this little rhyme of ending summertime
May engage on yellowing page
When I am below
And can not know
For the hearse
Takes all verse,
Though poems may stay.
Behind all lust
Lurks fear of dust.
For in war
Children and hate proliferate.
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
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.
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/
K Morris - Poet 