After the women go
I so often know
The meaning of zero.
Sometimes there is pleasure
But, when they go
Often I feel zero.
Sometimes I wonder whether
They also know zero.
I avoid
The void
In nights
Of bought delights.
But, when they go
Often I know
The emptiness of zero.
The rain came fast,
But failed to last.
Our great civilisation came.
And rain will remain.
The tick tock
Of the clock
Says we must
Turn to dust.
And girl’s heels clip clop
In time with the clock.
And Time’s hands measure
Our pain and pleasure.
My heart entangled
With girlish bangles.
A girl’s jewels
Oft make fools
Of weak man
But who can
Jangling bangles resist
On feminine wrist?
They perform.
I drink
And think
Of Dowson’s grey dawn,
Of women and men,
And of how when
I die
Perchance, some of my
Poetry, may survive them,
And me.
In addition to this blog (kmorrispoet.com), I have just launched a website which can be found here http://www.kevinmorrispoet.co.uk/.
The purpose of http://www.kevinmorrispoet.co.uk/ is to offer a brief overview of me and my work.
My main focus will continue to remain on this blog (kmorrispoet.com), whilst my website (http://www.kevinmorrispoet.co.uk/) is aimed at those who wish to gain a quick overview of my work.
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Kevin
I have chased the chaste
Through nights of delight,
For we can be free
In our secret fantasy.
In my head
I have said
That which I ought
Not to have thought.
And in my dream
It often does seem
That fantasy
Becomes reality.
And in her head
What thoughts of bed
And fantasy
Has she?
For even the chaste
May, in secret fantasy
Relish the chase
And lover’s embrace.
Is it just
An antiquated rule
That keeps fools
Away from play?
I am dust,
As is she
Yet this lust
May not be
At some point
We all disjoint
And go below
To must
And dust.
Transhumanists may deny
That I
Must surely die.
Yet below
I must go.
Rain falls hard
In the churchyard.
But those below
Do not know.
On another day
Some other may,
Passing me by,
Think as I.
K Morris - Poet 