A young man whose name is Blair
Has a habit of calling me Clair.
But at half-past 7
I change from Kevin
And dress in the clothes of Flair!
A Case of Mistaken Identity
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When an Excitable Young Lady Named Lou
When an excitable young lady named Lou
Said, “I never thought I’d be here with you!”.
And I said, “my dear,
But now you are here”,
She said, “yes! That is undoubtedly true!”.
The Truth
I said
To my friend
That the waitress
Was aloof.
Perhaps shy.
But the truth
Is I
Wanted bed.
Rose and her Toes
I know a young lady named Rose
Who likes to show me her toes.
My wife Coral
Calls her immoral,
But she hasn’t seen Rose without clothes!
Westminster Cathedral’s Chimes
The passing chimes
Of Westminster Cathedral bring to mind
A former time
When belief in empire still burned strong.
Yet in his song
Rudyard Kipling foresaw
That the fire
Of the British Empire
Would burn no more.
Westminster Cathedral’s chimes
Will continue on
When I am gone
And Kipling’s great rhymes
Will be condemned
(As before)
By men
Who have never read
“Recessional”. and know not he foresaw
That the red
Of empire would show no more.
Puddles on the Churchyard Path
I passed
Puddles on the churchyard path.
But when
I came that way again
I saw them no more.
How quickly men
Pass by
Puddles on the churchyard path,
And how soon they die.
A State of Grace
A young lady whose name is Lorna
Has a job in a sordid sauna.
When I walk passed that place
With that sweet girl Miss Grace,
I remember we met in that sauna …
Cigarettes
One white the other black.
They left to get cigarettes.
Would they be back?
He didn’t know
But half hoped so.
He remembers cigarettes
But forgets
Girl’s names.
Sometimes he regrets
The old game.
But reflects, “expensive cigarettes
Are not my shame”.
An Invitation
When a naughty young lady named Lou
Said, “please do join me and Sue”,
I said to Miss Flow,
“I think we should go!”,
But Flow was too busy with Lou!
Sitting on this Fallen Log
Sitting on this fallen log
With my dog
Nearby, I touch the reality
Of this tree,
Which once stood
In this Great North Wood.
It’s brother trees still stand
Their canopy shading me
From the evening sun.
Others will come
And sit or stand
In this place
When this old fallen tree
And you who
Now read me
Have vanished without trace.
K Morris - Poet 