When a young lady said with delight,
“I am challenging you to a fight!”
I said to her, “Claire!
I am washing my hair!”
She said, “you did that last night!”
When a Young Lady Challenged me to a Fight
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Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
The Autumn Rain is Falling
The autumn rain is falling,
I hear it on my window
It’s voice calling
To me of temporary
And permanent things.
I should go below
Leaving rhyme behind.
For I am not the wind
Nor the eternal rain.
And one day I must go
Vicar Large and the Barge
When I saw the good vicar Large
Making love to young women on a barge,
I just couldn’t stop grinning
And spoke of his sinning!
He said, “you’re paid to steer this barge!”
Cold
The cold bites hard
In the churchyard.
The temperature is zero.
I know
These fallen leaves
Do not deceive.
My autumn has come.
And alone
I go home
Heading for the churchyard
Building a Wall
When I hear men
Building a wall
I recall Robert Frost.
But the cost
Of this perimeter wall
Falls to me
And I must say
That all my poetry
Will not pay
For walls.
Therefore I am glad
That I have
Some time
For more than rhyme!
When I Met the Devil in a Pub
When I met the devil in a pub
I said, “have you come in for grub?”
He said, “the barmaid is pretty
And you sir are most witty!
But alas! This pub it has no grub!
I Shall Not Romanticise
On opening my mum’s back door
I hear the rain pour.
I shall not romanticise
Rain or death.
Man dies
And some are left bereft
Listening to the rain.
My Sugar Date with Kate
I once went on a sugar date
With a young lady named Miss Kate.
When it came to paying time
I recited a very fine rhyme
Which delighted the old waiter and Kate!
Philosophy
The weather grows colder
And I older.
The clock ticks on.
Each second gone
Forever lost to me.
I sit alone.
Mere flesh and bone.
Is there a possibility of immortality?
That may be.
But for now the clock mocks
All my philosophy.
I wonder, could ther
Steel and Glass
My first real girlfriend
Tore tart cards
In London phone boxes.
In the end
Those colourful art cards
Vanished, leaving steel and glass.
Now, when I pass
Those boxes in London streets
I imagine discreet meets
Organised online.
And after the laughter
And wine
Only steel and glass remain.
K Morris - Poet 