So girlie and innocent
In your fearful fascination
With the big snake
In the aquarium.
You took my hand
In that public place.
Such girl-like innocence
And our lost grace.
Snake
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Tag Archives: free verse
In the Moment
In the moment
There’s the mad thrust
Of unthinking lust.
But after pleasure
Come thoughts of dust.
Poet Kevin Morris’s Poetry Included in Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology for 2022/2023
I am delighted to announce that a number of my poems have been included in “The Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology”, 2022/2023, https://www.lulu.com/shop/croydon-poets/croydon-poe-try-hour-anthology-20222023/paperback/product-v8r7e94.html?q=croydonpoetry+hour+2022%2F2023&page=1&pageSize=4
Among the poems included are:
“I Scent the Early Summer Air”,
“As I Drink My Red Wine”,,
“How Sweet and Sad Was the Bird”
And “In Early December”.
In Early December
In early December
November’s leaves still adorn
The woodland lawn.
Man’s pattern is made
In light and shade
And the gardener’s rake
Rakes all leaves.
Dust
In my bedroom
Your Perfume
Mingles with the dust
Of books.
Your scent lingers
On fingers.
But all I’ve touched
Will be dust.
Graces
I could call
On 2 young graces.
Silks and laces
So easily fall away.
I find charms
In a girl’s arms.
But they go with day
And my love of solitude
May love exclude.
I am glad
For I have
A kind of friend.
But all our graces
Must end
In the hard churchyard
For below
There is no pretend.
The Pleasure Seeker
I have demanded pleasure
And chosen not to understand
That the pursuit of pleasure
Would leave me stranded
In the desert sand.
I can command
Sweet painted lips
To tease and kiss.
But the desolate sand
Obeys no command.
Love that is Not
On this dull day
No girls pass
Before my bedroom glass.
On other days
It has reflected back
The black
And white
Who have relieved
My lonely night.
Sometimes when they leave
I grieve
For the cost
Of lost
Souls. and love
That is not love.
Butterflies fly away.
But no, they stay
Caught in rhymes
Though they know it not.
All Men Fall
All men fall
But some men
Deny it is so.
But could one go
Into the mind
Of all men
One would find
No angels here below.
I have seen Heaven and Hell
And I know well
That the path to both
Oft runs parallel.
Scattered Leaves
At night
I rhyme
Of scattered leaves
And fleeting time.
Apple
I recall
The fall
Of sweet scented leaves.
And elsewhere,
Her hair, still wet,
In my bedroom,
Smelling of apple perfume.
Sometimes I regret
My fallen leaves.
K Morris - Poet 