Walking a tightrope,
The abyss
Of bliss
Below.
Should I let go
People would recall
That I had a spectacular fall …
To keep hold
Is, I am told
The right thing to do.
That may well be true
But oh
How I long to go
Into the abyss
Of bliss
Tis a strange thing
To see winter dance with spring.
The winter wind does freeze
Spring’s heart,
Yet she will play her part
And with her bloom
Tease
And please,
Creating her own tomb.
There was a young man named Guy
Who was employed as a British spy.
He received money from the Russians,
And payments from the Prussians.
That double-crossing young spy named Guy!
There was a young lady named Lou
Who created a website in 1902.
She had her own email address,
Although I must confess
That I am lying to you!
He hears her voice
And wonders what she does know
Of where men go
In their head. Choice
Is a word
Oft times heard.
Possessing seeming
Meaning,
It conceals scheming.
But women know
‘Tis not always so
And suspect
There maybe respect.
It helps them cope
For hope
Is the last thing to die.
Incongruous you stood,
A sofa in my local wood.
You belong in a living room
But as some poisonous mushroom
You despoil the grace
Of nature’s face.
No point to shout
About a litter lout,
For if you did hear
I fear
That you would not listen.
The glisten
of morning dew
Means nothing to you,
Who would rather view TV,
Than stare at bird or tree.
Doubtless you own a state-of-the-art television
(And a new settee).
Yet you lack the vision
To see
Beyond the dancing screen
To yonder wood,
Where the air is good
And fox and squirrel are oft times seen.
There was a young man named Gus
Who caught the wrong kind of bus.
He found himself on a boat,
With nought but a goat.
You should have heard that terrible fuss!
There was a young lady named Leigh
Who said, “is it really me?”.
But the glass it broke,
As the words she spoke,
So Leigh was unable to see!
—
There was a young man named Shane
Who caught the wrong train.
A guard named Pride
Said “enjoy the ride,
And my daughter’s name it is Jane!”
—
There was a young man named Shane
Who boarded the wrong train.
A guard called Pride
Said “enjoy the ride
As this is an express train!”
I remember you still.
How the heat
Did defeat
The outer chill.
Oh yes, I remember you still.
I remember you still.
How you did desire
The electric fire
In my bedroom,
And soon
The heat
Did defeat
The outer chill.
Oh yes, I remember you still
I remember you still.
How you bought that dress
To impress
And fulfil my desire.
The fire
Removed the outer chill.
Oh yes, I remember you still.
I remember you still.
Your head
On the bed
And us warm from the heat
That did defeat
The outer chill.
Oh yes, I remember you still …
As a child, I planted an apple’s seed.
I watched it grow and could not hide
My pride.
Alas it was a mere weed
That I did feed.
K Morris - Poet 