The cleaners mop
And cobwebs are swept away.
Some patients lust
After pretty nurses. The dust
Must be kept at bay.
But broom and mop
Can not stop
The coming of dust.
The cleaners mop
And cobwebs are swept away.
Some patients lust
After pretty nurses. The dust
Must be kept at bay.
But broom and mop
Can not stop
The coming of dust.
So many birds sing
In early spring
As I pass by
These numerous tombstones
Where the dead lie.
You also passed
So do not know
That birds sing
In this early spring
Over old stones.
In the hospital, shadows come and go
On wards and corridors.
Some return again to sunshine and rain.
While others forever forgo
The delight of sunlight, wind and rain.
And fade on wards.
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris.
In early spring,
In the hospital garden
No birds sing.
Or perhaps its me
With my thoughts of mortality
Who fails to hear
When they sing to men.
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris.
I knelt and smelt
Hyacinths in the hospital garden.
Their scent
Was delicate and sweet.
.
The next time I went
To that self-same garden
Their scent
Had already been spent.
.
I grow much stronger,
Yet ponder
On a hospital garden
And scent
So soon spent.
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris
Sometimes I find my mind
Obsessed with verse.
It is a curse.
But, what is even worse,
I find my brain
Fails to retain
What I wrote
In earnest or joke!
Copyright: K. Morris.
There was a young lady of Crystal Palace
Who went by the name of Alice.
They said to her Claire,
“You should take great care!”,
She said, “my name it is Alice!”
Doors get knocked at midnight
To gentlemen’s delight.
While neighbours gossip, left and right …
I felt no cold breath of Death
Nor the Reaper’s skeletal hand.
Yet he greeted me
And I mumbled and tumbled
And found myself on the cold ground
Where all are bound.
Death can command us all.
When he calls man must fall.
He greeted me in jest.
But he will tire of play
And I will find rest
For Death he ends all play.
After the hospital
I walked in the rain again,
But did not regret the wet,
For the dead
Feel no rain.