A butterfly
On a
Sunny day
Flew by
My Labrador.
A snap of jaw.
And our summer chat
Of this and that.
All things must die
As the summer butterfly.
Death’s jaws will close
On man and rose.
You and I
Are but butterflies
Who love and laugh
And then must pass.
Whilst walking through some very nice parks
I met with the ghost of Marx.
He said, “be my pal
And read my Das Kapital”.
But I preferred to enjoy those parks!
On hearing my clock chime
I think on Father Time.
I touch my grey hair
And wish for a woman ere
My ageing clock does finally stop
Ending time and my passing rhyme
I know a young lady named Moore
Who has a reputation for being pure.
She came round at midnight
With her friend Miss White,
Who’s reputation is as pure as Moore …
When girls visited lonely men
At the height of lockdown,
Some neighbours did frown
And no doubt say,
“Those men need to pay!”.
But perchance when the dance
Of fun was done
They did indeed pay …
A lost hairclip,
It’s owner unknown
Records a slip
Of hip
Against hip.
When a young lady named Lou
Fell into a pot of stew,
A chef called Doyle
Said, “you will spoil
That stew you fell into Lou!”.
After the women go
I so often know
The meaning of zero.
Sometimes there is pleasure
But, when they go
Often I feel zero.
Sometimes I wonder whether
They also know zero.
I avoid
The void
In nights
Of bought delights.
But, when they go
Often I know
The emptiness of zero.
I know a pretty young perfumer
Who is spreading a wicked rumour,
About me and her,
And gorgeous Miss Claire.
How sad its just a rumour …!
The rain came fast,
But failed to last.
Our great civilisation came.
And rain will remain.
K Morris - Poet 