Waking early,
And being unable to return to the land of slumber,
Idly I wonder
About our need for sleep,
For we can not pretend
That he will not take us all in the end.
Sleep
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Echo
In the rocks, Echo does reside.
We take pride
In her speech
For she doth preach
As we do.
Through
Her voice
We know the only possible choice
For it is that of our brothers
(Echo’s lovers),
Who
Understand the one true
Way,
For they
Echo every word we say
Narcissus
While gazing in the glass
She heard a mocking laugh.
On looking behind
She did find
Narcissus lounging on the bed.
“What, you here? again!” she said
Baubles and Toys
Soon baubles and toys
Will intrude, while the day’s noise
Will wrap me in petty care
Yet, on awakening there
Where
The birds, as they always are
Drowning out lorry and car.
A Hundred Years Of Communism
Shall I pen a verse
Sufficiently terse
To appear on Twitter?
And would I be bitter
Should my Twit
Fail to fit?
Socks
She mocks
In socks,
With her unblemished skin,
And barely lukewarm sin
Loaded Gun
He had such charm
As with a smile he said,
“There is no harm,
Come to bed”.
They had their fun,
As the sun
Glowed traffick light red,
But there was “no harm”, she said
There Was An Elderly Author Called Dave
There was an elderly author called Dave
Who did not his money save.
He sold the odd book
But his pennies where took
By the publican who was a bit of a knave!
Verbosity
I have always been of the view,
That one should never write an essay,
When a sentence will do!
K Morris - Poet 