In another’s death we see
Our own mortality.
We sympathise with the bereaved,
And may even grieve.
But in another’s death we see
Our own Mortality.
Another’s Death
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Tag Archives: literature
Roses
“Roses are fading”, you said.
I lent and smelt
But there was little scent.
In childhood I would
Collect from nature’s plentiful store
Acorns and conkers
But no Oaktree grew.
Now we two see fading flowers.
I think of lost hours
But speak not of them to you.
The 20 Greatest Poets of All Time
https://www.forbes.com/sites/entertainment/article/best-poets/
An interesting list. However, whilst I think such articles can spark interest in poetry and perhaps encourage those who have not yet come to love the art form to do so, any such list is just the opinion of the author. I, personally am surprised that Keats does not get a mention. His fine poems on autumn and his ode to a nightingale surely make him worthy of inclusion in such a list.
Carpet Burns
My thoughts turn
To carpet burns.
A girl and I
By my gas fire.
I remember the flame
Of my desire.
But her name …?
A 5 Star Review of my Poetry Collection, “The Churchyard Yew and Other Poems”
I was pleased to receive this 5 star review of my recently published collection, “The Churchyard Yew and Other Poems”:
“… The poems in this short but sweet collection cover myriad topics in a variety of styles. Some are about churchyards while others are about humans and animals. My favorite is “Going to Hell in a Hand Cart,” a perfect way to end the book. If you like straightforward, entertaining poetry, this book is for you.”
(To read the review in full please visit Amazon.co.uk:Customer reviews: The Churchyard Yew and Other Poems).
Temptation
Sometimes when loneliness or aching lust
Becomes too much
I crave a woman’s touch,
For in her arms I forget
All my regret,
And that I am dust.
At other times
I take refuge in rhymes
From poets long gone.
Books have charms
But a girl’s soft arms
And her scent often tempts
Me – sometimes into poetry …
Dogs
On the ground
Logs lie
While all around
Joyous dogs
Spend their day
In play
Unaware of the decay
Of logs
And of how I
Envy dogs
In their play.
Scanning the Menu
Men may choose Chinese
Or whatever they please
For in the great marketplace
A girl’s legs and face
Can command a price
(Which some call vice).
The girl studying for her degree
And the single mum provide fun
But the fun
Commands a fee.
In what some call work
A pimp may lurk
Somewhere in the dark shadow.
Perhaps it isn’t so
But how do men know?
The Fallen Tree
Do you remember how we
Sat on that fallen tree?
I love the wood
In which that tree stood.
All must decay.
Though we had no love
To fade away.
Just my middle-aged lust
And fear of dust
And your need
To somehow feed.
Now that fallen tree
Reminds me of thee.
In the Moment
In the moment
There’s the mad thrust
Of unthinking lust.
But after pleasure
Come thoughts of dust.
K Morris - Poet 