I enter the graveyard
Where men forget regret
While the living
Forget their eternal
Bed is made
In waiting grave
And choose to lose
Their day
In play
With technology,
Which makes none free
Of the eternal grave.
I Enter the Graveyard
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Tag Archives: mortality
On Hearing Birdsong
On hearing birdsong
I am glad
That I am here
To hear
Their sad, glad song.
We die
And our love
Dies with us.
No, it lives on
When we are gone
In those we love.
And the birds
Sing on
With no care
For where
We have gone.
I See Sunlight
I see sunlight
On my bed.
Perchance we dance
In fleeting light
Then vanish
Into night.
When I Die
I wonder, when I die,
If it be in dream,
Will it seem
That I lie
Abed,
In perpetual dream?
I
Must take care
That my head
Is empty of all nightmare,
Lest, when I am dead
I, forever, dream.
A Poem from My Further Selected Poems
During a recent visit to my family in Liverpool, I visited Woolton wood. My trip to the wood took in a visit to the Walled Garden, https://www.merseyforest.org.uk/things-to-do/walks-bike-rides-and-more/walks/woolton-woods-and-camphill/.
In this peaceful spot, I spent some little time admiring the memorial benches and floral cuckoo clock, which feature in my poem “In Memory of”:
“A bench replete
With flowers
In winter’s wood.
Hours
Incomplete
Marked by a stone
Clock with lost hands.
We go into the unknown
Wood.
But perhaps a bench may stand
To commemorate
Those who, of a late
Winter afternoon,
Think on nature’s passing bloom.”
“In Memory of” can be found in my collection “The Further Selected Poems of K Morris”, which is available from Amazon in Kindle and paperback, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Further-Selected-Poems-Morris-ebook/dp/B08XPMGD3F.
I Always Return
I always return
To the tick tock
Of the clock,
From which I learn
To accept and respect
That I
Will die.
The Wet Churchyard Earth
The wet churchyard earth
Speaks of nature’s rebirth.
The graveyard grass smells fresh.
I see life and death.
I Heard A Leaf Fall
I heard a leaf fall.
It fell, dry and dead,
And rested there
On greying head.
And brought a thought
Of the passing kind
Into my so mortal mind …
Background
My clock’s chime
Makes background sound
As I rhyme.
I raise my glass
To old Father Time
Who will outlast
This poor rhyme.
Wind and Rain
I heard the wind blow
Through this wood I love.
When I go
Wind will blow.
And rain pour,
Though I am no more.
Yet it comforts me so.
K Morris - Poet 