He met a vulture
Of sculpture
Fine.
To him she did seem divine.
Her words
Would the pretty birds
Charm
And all scruples disarm.
No alarm
He heeded
Though his conscience pleaded,
But none interceded
And the ground was seeded
With a poisoned crop.
Chop, chop
Her beak went
And a heart
Was forever rent.
He played his part
And set it down as art.
Shimmering
In chiffon.
In fabric sheer
She passes near
Then is gone.
Shadows on the wall
I recall.
One can not catch a shade
For it is made
Of moonbeams
And passing dreams.
A tree may in beauty branch,
It’s leaves in the pure air,
Without a care
Dance
Tuneful birds,
Their song more precious than words
May in freedom sing
And solace bring
To the troubled soul.
The goal
Of girl and boy
Is joy.
Yet how easily does the wind of passion
Fashion
The fine tree in the crooked way.
The leaves say
Words
That cause the birds
To fly away.
One or two may stay
And the tree
By slow degree
Twists so it no longer resembles it’s noble shape.
The landscape darkens
And the vulture harkens
To the tree’s word.
Oh, would that it had gone unheard!
Ah, daffodils
That do banish all ills,
By performing a spritely dance.
Oh the romance
Of it all,
But then the rain did fall.
The flowers where beaten down
And the earth did drown
In a deluge most foul
Which made the poet scowl!
My dog did howl
For in my haste
To taste
Nature’s beauty
I forgot his towel
And my duty
To keep both him and I
Dry!
Oh blasted daffodils
And rain soaked hills!
I need my pills
For I feel chills
That will lay me low
So to the good doctor I must go!
Hey ho
I will romanticise it all
For I recall
How my public do adore
Poems about nature’s beauteous store!
Many thanks to Creative Dreamers for publishing my poem “Leaves”, as a guest post. For “Leaves” please visit, https://creativedreamers.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/leaves-by-kevin-morris/.
There was a young lady from a strange land
Who walked using only one hand.
When they asked her “why?”
She replied, with a sigh,
“If I explained, you wouldn’t understand!”
There was a young man from Barking
Who experienced problems when parking.
He parked on a cliff ledge,
Very close to the edge.
His girlfriend screamed “you are barking”!
Be careful what you wish for. You might actually get it
—
No harm in wishing
But, if you go fishing
In deep pools
Where fools
Fish,
Then sooner or later you may attain your wish.
A dainty dish
Not meant for the tasting by such as you
Has led many a man to rue
Their wish
For forbidden fish.
The cat sat on a river bank
Desirous to catch a fish.
Stretching out his paws, he obtained his wish
But, leaning too far over, fell into the water and sank.
‘Tis better to stay on the river bank …
Hoping against hope
Is a slippery slope.
Will the phone ring
And bring
A temporary release,
A kind of peace?
Hope tenuous as fingers that on the cliff edge scrabble,
And a mouth dry as gravel.
Thoughts travel
Back:
A lack
Of control, Shown by a boy
With a shiny new toy.
The plaything once tried
The child cried
Out once more for the toy
That brought such joy,
But the bauble left
Leaving him bereft.
Should the phone not sound
No lesson profound
Will be learned
For the spurned
Boy
Will batten on a new toy.
“For mine own good,
All causes shall give way. I am in blood
Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er”.
(Macbeth: Act 3, Scene 4).
—
The extraordinary and new
Does, through
The passing of the years
Engender ordinary tears.
Although normalisation may not lead to crying
Inside something is dieing,
The soul
Perhaps?
Then, at first unnoticed the whole
Edifice begins to collapse.
Masonry imperceptibly crumbles.
There may be mumbles of regret
And yet
Brick after brick tumbles.
Once a piece of the building has gone
A man may carry on
Down the same path
With a weary laugh,
Though the loss of a single brick
May his conscience prick.
K Morris - Poet 