Oh my nameless one.
Graceful as a swan.
You are here then gone
And the river runs on.
And The River Runs On
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
Cupid
Consequences hang heavy as scent.
To repent
Is bliss.
But oh, her kiss.
Those heels.
The way she kneels.
Venus has caught
All my thought
And brought
Me low
Where angels fear to go.
It will end in woe
For cupid’s arrows sharp
Penetrate the most unsuitable of hearts.
Christmas Dinner (Humour, not to be taken seriously)
Happy Christmas to all my followers. I wish you all a peaceful festive season and much joy for the coming year.
The below poem was, needless to say written with my tongue firmly in my cheek and should not be taken seriously. I in no manner whatsoever condone animal cruelty.
—
I shall sit upon a chocolate log
As I stuff my faithful dog.
I shall the turkey walk
As my thought
Revolves around
A question most profound
Where should I the stuffing put
As regards my loyal mut!
One Day
One day all writers go
To a great library
Where all is dark
Books are unused
And silence pervades
Chip
The weather seems colder
As you grow older.
The chip on your shoulder
May become a boulder
Weighing you down.
Be careful lest you drown
In your overwhelming sense of wrong.
Do please change that old song
It has gone on to long.
The record is stuck
Stop wallowing in muck.
The truth is we make our own luck!
Flying
I heard
A beautiful bird.
She sang of joy
To man and boy,
And nectar sweet
That I might eat.
She said, “I have flown high
And been lost in the great sky.
Come with me, you can be as I”.
I flew with her, but she did lie.
To A disillusioned Idealist
What is this youth?
This search for truth?
What is this heart
You have not the art
To conceal
But must reveal
Your ideals?
What is this age
This rage
That the world does not conform
To some abstract plan
of man?
History does warn.
Why then so forlorn?
A Kind Of Love
She wraps me in her warm embrace.
In her face, a kind of grace.
We race
Towards our goal,
To be whole,
For a moment one.
Then it is gone.
We dress and move on.
Cliche
It is a fine day
And there are bills to pay.
“We will be good tomorrow”
“There will be no more sorrow”.
The clichéd things we say
And there are bills to pay …
Crow
The black crow
Will come and go.
This I know
‘Twas always so.
