A glamorous bra
To show who you are.
Sharp pointy heels
to seal your deals.
A short red dress
your legs impress.
Your shapely bust
ingenders lust.
While your long blonde hair
Does men ensnare.
“Girl do you possess the art
To reveal your heart?”
You wow them in the saloon bar
Surely my friend you will go far.
You link
with those who drink
and refuse to think.
The pub goers applaud.
There can be no discord,
We must be protected from the unwashed horde.
A few wise old owls dissent
It’s a big tent
There must be room for dissent.
But the customers hear what they want to hear.
The regulars cheer
Never fear
Your friends are here.
An ad.
Perhaps a little sad.
A girl replies.
Those empty eyes.
An inspector sighs …
There was a young lady called Balinda
Who’s mother asked that fire she bringa.
The match it caught
On the new dress she bought
And Balinda was burned to a cinda
A checkout girl young and sweet
The thought of refugees almost makes me weep.
She speaks of her car
I ponder on those who have travelled far.
She is at university
While others face adversity.
A kind hearted girl
Do thoughts whirl
Through her head
Of the suffering and the dead?
Just an ordinary morning shopping,
Nothing shocking.
Beautiful mountains, their peaks pointing to the sky.
I would die
for the chance to climb
That track sublime.
Would that I could sally
Into the verdant valley
That nessles between
Those hills green.
Oh to drink from the life giving stream,
Which does flow
Where few may go.
I can but dream.
Don’t look into another’s mind
For you may find
A fiend
Who stalks your dream.
You may discern a hole
Where the soul
Should be.
Perhaps it is better you can not see.
Do you possess the art
To look into your own heart?
To confront the demons who scheme
And haunt your dream?
The countenance pleasant may seem
But what goes on behind the screen?
Her leather jacket.
Can she hack it?
Pack it
in
that leads to sin.
A riding crop.
Will he stop?
The horse
May run his course.
Force of circumstance
Or chance
Sees matters advance.
Her mount strides
but who rides
whom
as they canter through the gloom?
Her feet beat
To the music of the street.
Perfume sweet,
Makes him weak.
He would die,
For one look from those azure eyes.
Oh for a taste of those ruby red lips,
His heart skips,
As her fingers she slips,
Into his hand.
Breathlessly he waits for her command,
“I needs some grub.
Lets go to pub.
Bloke pays”.
She says,
Employing her feminine ways!
I am in the process of publishing a print edition of “The Girl Who Wasn’t There And Other Poems”, which is currently available as an ebook in the Amazon Kindle store. The print edition of “The Girl Who Wasn’t There” will be available direct from me at a cost of £5. If you would like to order a print copy of “The Girl Who Wasn’t There” please send an email to newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com (the address is rendered in this way to defeat spammers). Below is “Two Voices”, one of the poems to be found in my latest collection:
Two Voices
You talk to me of lambs gambolling, of ramblers ambling, through fields green, beside the meandering stream.
You speak to me of verdant bowers, where lovers while away the hours, in love’s young dream.
I tell you of an urban street, where the gale buffets and people battle to retain their feet.
I impart to you the wind’s loan moan, as I wander home alone, in weather bleak.
Links To Purchase The Ebook:
For the United Kingdom please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/girl-wasnt-there-other-poems-ebook/dp/B0155KSKOC/ref=cm_cr_pr_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8. For the rest of the world please go to http://www.amazon.com/girl-wasnt-there-other-poems-ebook/dp/B0155KSKOC/ref=cm_cr_pr_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8
K Morris - Poet 