Love and death are the poet’s great obsession.
Wile the former session
May be long or brief,
‘Tis certain, the performance, once over, ends in grief.
The Poet’s Obsession
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Figurines
Not all metal is brass.
Figurines
Perform sceenes,
Reflected back in glass,
Then out of the play pass.
Some will return again
To cause the director pain,
But not all metal is brass.
Refracting
The poet may redact
The light that through his poem does refract.
But the reader will therein construe
That she believes to be true.
Walls
A thing done often palls.
Walls
Have ears
And down the years
They hear our tears
And fears.
The wall
May not speak
But as week follows week
It will recall
Each trip and fall.
In the halls
Of the great
And the abodes of the humble,
Walls wait.
This truth I state,
Edifices crumble
And walls do prate …
The Tired Poet
What to do when one is tired
And the desired
Word
Is substituted by one absurd?
This will not one’s reader’s impress.
‘tis time, I think
To drink
Copious amounts of coffee, and dress …
Ducking and Diving
Ducking and diving,
Just about surviving
Is the lot of many
Who have only a penny
Or two
To see them through.
What to do
When the cupboard is bare?
Beware
Temptation, for Oscar knows
Where leads the sweetness of the rose …
—
“I can resist anything accept temptation”. Oscar Wilde, “Lady Windermere’s Fan”.
Agnostic
What am I?
A head full of whirling thoughts, then I die.
Who knows
Where my essence goes
When the din within
Ends and nothingness? Descends.
The Lost Sock
“I have lost
My sock” she cried.
“And I can’t recover it, much though I have tried”.
“It is little cost
To replace a sock, for they are cheap,
Dry your eyes my dear, there is no need to weep”
He said, and rolled over on his side to sleep.
Girls in Unsuitable Shoes
Men their hearts lose
To girls in unsuitable shoes.
Fire will always burn.
No lessons are learned
While the world, unconcerned
On it’s axis continues to turn.
—
I owe a debt to Kiplings’s “The Gods of The Copybook Headings” for line 3 of the poem:
“As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!”.
http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poems_copybook.htm
Truth
My books among delph
On a shelf
May live.
I hope they pleasure give
To a soul
In search of a part of the whole.
The complete truth is impossible to find,
Yet the mind
Seeks on
Long after the poet has gone
To the skies
Where truth lies …
K Morris - Poet 