Sounds painful to hear.
The dying year.
Leaves turn from green to brown.
His growing frown.
Death patiently waits,
As time, with gnarled fingers reaches for the gate.
The Dying Year
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
A Goat Ate My Coat
While swimming in a moat,
A goat ate my coat.
I was annoyed for awhile
But relieved it wasn’t a crocodile!
K Morris reading his poem ‘Plinths’
Me reading my poem ‘Plinths’
K Morris reading his poem ‘The Gentleman Suitor to his Beloved’
Me reading my poem ‘The Gentleman Suitor to his Beloved’
K Morris reading a selection of his poetry
Me reading a selection of my poetry.
Dog
Your contented sighs.
Those soft brown eyes.
Your cold wet nose.
Love beyond speech, my dog knows.
Antisemitism
As obscene as the breaking of glass,
Or the whisper of gas from the past.
“The jews are mean” you said.
Dead bodies in a camp.
The lamp shines on the food divine.
You drink more wine.
A train somewhere in the distance passes,
Somewhere glass smashes.
I Am The Girl Who Wasn’t There
I am the girl who wasn’t there.
I did not sit upon that chair,
playing provocatively with my hair.
I did not drink that expensive wine,
While gazing on your paintings fine.
I did not recline under the quilt so red,
Or moan with exstasy in your bed.
If by chance, an earing she should find,
Worry not, it is not mine.
Storm
Virgin white sheets.
His icey feet.
Two bodies meet.
“Why are you never warm?
I feel a storm coming.
I see dark clouds.
Do you hear the thunder’s voice angry and loud?
But no. though the sky is forlorn,
There will be no storm.
The weather needs to break.
This humidity I can not take.
I long for the cooling rain.
It will cleanse my fevered brain.
No, please,
your rough paws I do not need!”
Love’s Pyre
Sense loses itself in desire.
Man burns on passion’s pyre.
Love’s heat inflames,
Befuddles his brains.
Come the cooling rain,
He feels only shame,
Yet will return again,
To joy and pain
