Damp leaves in cold park.
Autumn days are growing dark.
The wind whistled
In the churchyard.
Then the rain came again.
An Autumn Day (1 November 2022)
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Tag Archives: kevin morris author
When a Wicked Young Lady Named Moriah
When a wicked young lady named Moriah
Threatened to set my beard on fire,
The good barber Dave
Suggested a good shave.
Then he shaved both me and Moriah!
Civilisation Totters, Like a Girl in Stilettos
Civilisation totters, like a girl in stilettos.
In palaces and ghettos
It’s the same old game of lust.
We escape the dust
By leaving one of our kind behind.
But, after our lust
Perchance we wonder, “is humanity terminally bust?”.
As I Walked Home One Dark Halloween
As I walked home one dark Halloween
I heard a most ear piercing scream.
I said to Miss Black
“We must not look back!”.
But she’d vanished with a piercing scream!
My Famous Old School
I once attended a famous old school
Which was haunted by a wicked ghoul.
When the headmaster did shout,
“You! ghoul! Please get out!”,
He called him a blithering old fool!
Whilst Attending a Famous Old Boarding School
Whilst attending a famous old boarding school
I met with a complaining young ghoul.
He said, “its too warm
In this stuffy old dorm!”.
So I chucked him in the pool!
The Remains of Hot Tea
You poured the remains of hot tea
And asked could you do
Anything else for me.
We spoke of the cost of living.
I drank my hot tea.
My hair is grey.
But, if I where to casually say
That I can be giving …
Best drink my tea
And let her think well of me.
There Once Was a Terrible Old Lecher
There once was a terrible old lecher
Who went by the name of Fletcher.
A girl called Kate
Used a heavy plate,
Which ended that old lecher named Fletcher!
Poetry in Rain
Listening to rain
While reading poetry.
But why read poetry
When there is rain?
For there is poetry
In the rain.
—
Reading Clare
While listening to rain.
But why read Clare
For there
Is poetry in rain?
(The above is 2 versions of the same, maybe similar poem. The poem flows from me listening to the rain through my open bedroom window yesterday evening, while reading the poetry of John Clare).
Mark Who is Extremely Fond of the Park
I know a young man named Mark
Who is extremely fond of the park,
Where Claire and Miss Rose
Remove all of their clothes.
Or so I am told by Mark …!
K Morris - Poet 