Flowers in my living room
Now in full bloom,
Will be gone soon.
—
I spent a long time yesterday attempting to compose this poem, and ended up throwing away several drafts. Part of Friday evening had been spent with friends in a wine bar, which may or may not have impacted on my ability to get the above poem right.
Simon Armitage has been appointed as the UK’s new Poet Laureate, replacing the former holder of that position, Carol Ann Duffy. The Daily Telegraph has an interesting article on the appointment which can be found here, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2019/05/10/xxx/
There once was a writer named Moon,
(Or was that his nom de plume)?
At any rate
My friend Kate,
Has told me her nom de plume!
When I asked my good friend Miss Wood,
“Do you think you could . . .?”,
She said, with a smile,
“You have wit and style,
But I really don’t think I should . . .”.
Her, lying there,
So innocent and fair
In slumber.
Soon she will wake
And make
Her way home.
He got her number
From that place of dreams and regret
– The internet . . .
When scientists have analysed you and me,
To the nth degree,
And found that there is nothing ethereal
And we are merely
Genetic material,
What will be
Left of you and me
Save for genes
And mechanical dreams?
I take you at night
In dreams,
But it is not quite right,
And all is not as it seems
Roses I may not pick, tempt
With their sweet
Scent.
The peach,
Out of reach
I may not eat
For mine
Wine
Has passed its best.
But, in time
All things must rest.
The hour
Of the flower
And peach, is brief,
And all must, one day cease
“Check your privilege”, can not be said
To the dead,
But if it could, Kipling would
Remain the same,
A man of his time,
Who some would like to arraign
For the heinous crime
Of writing rhyme
I put my nose out the window
And smell the rain,
But quickly close it again
Why should I
shut out the rain
And sky?
For I
Know not when I shall die.
K Morris - Poet 