Leaves turn brown
‘Ere they fall
To waiting ground.
I heard
A bird’s
Alarm call.
Autumn will become
Winter. The sun
Will burn out.
Some still shout
Of human progress
While leaves fall.
Progress
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Tag Archives: free verse
In the Biblical Sense
I have known
In the biblical sense
Many young women.
I make no pretence
That their names
Where all known.
On Hearing Birdsong
On hearing birdsong
I am glad
That I am here
To hear
Their sad, glad song.
We die
And our love
Dies with us.
No, it lives on
When we are gone
In those we love.
And the birds
Sing on
With no care
For where
We have gone.
Early Autumn Morning
In the early morning
Few birds I heard.
In the distance
Vehicles passed by.
On such autumn mornings
I have no resistance
To thoughts of mortality.
But half dark
Turns to light
And I must
Shake off dust.
But autumn
Must come
And leaves fall.
A Small Island in a Great Sea
A small island in a great sea.
Once, half the world was painted red
And we engaged in slavery.
It is so often said
That the British Empire did no good.
Yet, (having abolished slavery), we patrolled seas
Stopping those who still engaged
In the cruel slave trade.
As I stood
In this remnant
Of the Great
North Wood
I thought on those who hate
This country.
Now our former colonies are free
To have their own mess
(Or progress.
And we
Have the cold sea
And what we
Call progress.
I See Sunlight
I see sunlight
On my bed.
Perchance we dance
In fleeting light
Then vanish
Into night.
Autumn Birds
I heard Autumn birds
And did think
Of strong drink.
And felt the fire
Of Autumn lust.
Man sates his desire
For sweet forget
In a girl’s arms.
For in dust
All charms
We forget.
A Poem from My Further Selected Poems
During a recent visit to my family in Liverpool, I visited Woolton wood. My trip to the wood took in a visit to the Walled Garden, https://www.merseyforest.org.uk/things-to-do/walks-bike-rides-and-more/walks/woolton-woods-and-camphill/.
In this peaceful spot, I spent some little time admiring the memorial benches and floral cuckoo clock, which feature in my poem “In Memory of”:
“A bench replete
With flowers
In winter’s wood.
Hours
Incomplete
Marked by a stone
Clock with lost hands.
We go into the unknown
Wood.
But perhaps a bench may stand
To commemorate
Those who, of a late
Winter afternoon,
Think on nature’s passing bloom.”
“In Memory of” can be found in my collection “The Further Selected Poems of K Morris”, which is available from Amazon in Kindle and paperback, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Further-Selected-Poems-Morris-ebook/dp/B08XPMGD3F.
Brief
Church bells briefly heard.
Something falls
From an autumn tree.
A solitary
Bird briefly calls,
Maybe to me.
An Idle Thought
An idle thought.
Is it mere coincidence
That the word lust
Rhymes with dust?
K Morris - Poet 