When the telescreens went on the blink,
A few took a lover
But, most, being fearful of Big Brother
Did not think
To riot. The Proles stayed quiet,
(Though members of the Thought Police
Where found drowned
In the poorer quarters of town).
Then, when the telescreens all got restored,
Things went on just as before.
My clock chimes
On a spring day.
Women and wine
Are mine,
But my springtime
Has passed
And the fast
Tick tock
Of antique clocks
Appeals not
To girls in heels
Who do not
Feel their clock
Soon must stop.
In my lonely hours
I have known
The pull of flowers.
I have grown
Weary of being alone
And bought wine
And flowers
To while
Away the time
With painted smiles
And blossom,
Fallen as I.
I open my window
And let in his cry
With the chill night air.
He is out there
Somewhere in the dark park,
Or the churchyard nearby.
I closed my
Window against the chill air.
He remained there,
(For how long I
Can not say).
Then his cry
Seemed to fade away.
In my younger days
I played
With many a maid.
Now my clock
Has stopped.
Yet still I rhyme
Of Father Time.
But all clocks wound
Must run down
A fleeting connection.
A middle-aged poet’s introspection.
You danced by
And I
Saw youth
And your love of art,
And felt an answering spark
In my poet’s heart.
There is truth
Of a kind
For you to find
Should you truly look
Behind my book.
You will dance away
And, at some future day
May remember a middle-aged poet
Who gave to you
Something of what is true.
I yawn
In the early morn.
A bark
Pierces the dark.
The carpet is warm
Against my bare
Feet. While out there
The fox’s word
Is heard
Ere I sleep.
The air is fresh
After a warm day.
I thrive
In this spring air.
And wonder
Whether those below
Ever walked by
Where they now lie.
I am delighted to have received another wonderful review of my collection of poetry, More Poetic Meanderings, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5526304433.
I am also pleased to let you know that I am in the process of publishing a collection of my humorous verses entitled My Friend’s Robot Girlfriend and Other Humorous Verses. I hope the collection will be available by the end of may in both Kindle and paperback editions.
In the wood’s heart
There is light
And there is dark.
The poet finds
Delight
With woodland
Nymphs.
For girls
Of the mind
Are never bland.
K Morris - Poet 