A cold wind blows
Yet onwards the suicide goes
Towards the white cliffs of Dover.
Looking over
He sees only bliss
And leaping off, falls into the abyss.
The Suicide
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
The Drinks Are On Me
“The drinks are on me” he said.
“Indeed they are
For I found in your car
A bra
Not mine.
Oh red wine!
How kind.
You will find
It is hard to get out”, the girl said,
As she Poured her drink over his head …
Where I
Where I a mouse
That wanders through my neighbour’s house,
I could observe with care
The joys and sorrows of him and her.
Where I a fly
Who all things doth spy
I could grieve
For the love I perceive
Blossom then die.
But I am a man
And have not the art
To gaze into my neighbour’s heart,
And possessing my own cares
Meddle not in other’s affairs.
The competition to win a signed copy of “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” is now closed
Earlier today I offered readers the chance to win a free signed print copy of my latest collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”, (https://newauthoronline.com/2016/06/25/your-chance-to-win-a-signed-copy-of-my-book-lost-in-the-labyrinth-of-my-mind/). Thank you to everyone who shared my post. I am pleased to announce that a winner has emerged and the competition is now closed.
The answer to the question posed, is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who was born in Edinburgh in 1859 and died in 1930. The quote comes from “The Speckled Band, which can be found in “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes”. Holmes is speaking of Doctor Grimesby Roylott. If you haven’t read “The Speckled Band” I strongly recommend doing so, (http://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/32/the-adventures-of-sherlock-holmes/352/adventure-8-the-adventure-of-the-speckled-band/).
Succubus
Where I to write a poem for you
How much of it would be true?
For one may construe
Black as white.
The night
May bring delight
But come break of day
The succubus will be on her way.
He who invites the vampire in
Has, I maintain
No reason to complain
When she leaves him pale and thin.
The blood red
Wine tastes divine
And there is a fine line
Betwixt the living and the dead.
—
A succubus is a female demon (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Succubus).
Thor
The rain pours
And Thor’s
Hammer knocks
Against crumbling locks
As he our civilisation mocks.
A few, hearing the thunder
Lift their eyes in wonder
From the TV,
While fewer still, know what it is to be free.
School Days
I recall The library’s high shelves
Where I would delve
For books.
Often I forsook
My peers
To read
And on solitude feed.
All those years
Gone by.
I sigh
And wonder why
The past holds such sway.
And we humans lose ourselves in yesterday.
Oh how easy it is to perspective lack
As we gaze back
Down childhood’s track.
I remember the schoolyard’s din
And the wanting to join in.
Sometimes I ran with the crowd
Yet my nature proud
Held me apart
And I solace found in art.
I see the library now
And wonder how
The school goes on
Now that I am gone
An whether books still stand
Waiting to command
The future poet’s hand.
Waltz
It takes a couple to waltz.
With beauty charming
And character disarming
She does dance
And romance
Until the sun’s ray’s lance
The comforting dark
And a new day starts.
Both parties are willing
But does the payment of a shilling
To the girl
Who does so seductively twirl
Render their interaction
An exploititive transaction
And the waltz false?
Dog and Ball
My head full
Of dull
Thought.
Then the ball you caught
And waving your tail
Did derail
My introspection.
How can I suffer dejection
When I recollect your playful snort
And the ball you caught?
Cage
He said, “I have wrought
What I ought
Not to have wrought
And bought
What I ought
Not to have bought.
I have caught
the wild bird
Who’s song I heard
In the lonely night.
Once delight
Of a kind, semed sweet to you and me
And we believed ourselves to be free”.
She said, “There can be no mistaking
That I flew into a cage
Of my own making
And now I rage
Against my own stupidity
And cupidity.
Expensive bras
Make for sturdy bars.
The truth is, you a bird caught
But together we rought
This cage
In which we now both uselessly rage
