Her hair, smelling of Coconut Oil
Takes me back to you.
She too is black.
Once my passion boiled for you
In coconut scented sheets.
I wonder, does her skin
Leave coconut on bedclothes
And does her man’s nose
Linger where bodies meet?
Do I sin
When I yearn for coconuts
Firm to the touch
And soft skin
I can not touch?
As I walked through the trees
a soft breeze
Stirred the fallen leaves.
A girl was there
with golden hair.
Light as a feather she flew
into mine arms true.
The scent of the forest she wore.
Her clothes blended with the woodland’s russet floor.
“I can not stay
for my father, winter is on his way”,
she did say.
The sky turned grey
and winter did bay
As a ravenous wolf
who would the earth engulf.
I felt her father’s icey hand
laid firm upon the land.
His command
is law.
I must see his daughter no more.
But winter must sleep
And out his children will creep.
The lover I adore
I will see her once more!
The young man preens
And dreams
Of girls in frocks
Who lose their socks
The young girl thinks of fast cars
of fumbling hands
And broken bras.
The middle aged man ponders on his misspent youth
On wonky car seats
and a girl called Ruth.
The middle aged lady takes her husband’s hand
As they stroll contentedly along the sand.
“Let us pile high the fire my dear.
Come you near
and warm the cockles of your heart.
Let us practice love’s art.
Draw closer and sit upon my knee.
Let us make free
like the amorous swan
for time rolls on
and desire, ‘tis soon gone.
“Sir
My mother warned me to beware
Of poets who pretty verses spin
Lest they lead me into sin.
Good night to you noble sir
I must be off and wash my hair”.
Entangled in the sheets,
A girl her own counsel keeps.
He, in thought deep.
Soon, both may sleep.
Caught in a kiss
Her lips
Forever bliss
K Morris - Poet 