Twas such bliss
Her kiss
So sweet and soft
As we lay
In the hayloft.
Then the devil coughed
And I heard him say
“Apologies, I have terrible hay fever today …”.
Twas Such Bliss
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Tag Archives: poems
There Was A Young Lady Called Jill
There was a young lady called Jill
Who owned a dog named Bill.
While in her local pub
He ate all the grub
And Jill she paid the bill!
Working Towards A Collection Of Poetry
Emma Lee has written a helpful post on producing a collection of poetry. Emma discusses the advantages and disadvantages of publishing a collection dealing with one theme VS producing a book containing a variety of themes.
Emma’s post caused me to ponder on my own writing and, in particular my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”. The title of the book brings to mind both clocks and time more generally and there are, indeed a number of poems which deal with this subject matter. There are, however also poems which touch upon a variety of other issues, for example “Crack” which deals with addiction to hard drugs and “Count Dracula Went Out To Dine” (a poem of a more humorous nature). I deliberately chose to include poems on a multiplicity of themes on the basis that “variety is the spice of life”. I enjoy reading collections which cover various subjects and wishing to offer my readers the kind of collection that appeals to me, I took the decision to include a mixture of poems thereby (I hope) enhancing the enjoyment of my readers and avoiding the risk of being pigeonholed as the poet who only writes about time.
You can find Emma Lee’s post here, https://emmalee1.wordpress.com/2018/05/23/working-towards-a-collection-of-poems/.
“My Old Clock I Wind” is available from Moyhill Publishing and can be found here, http://moyhill.com/clock/. It is also available in the Amazon Kindle store, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG
I am Told
I am told
That one is getting old
When policemen look younger than you.
I’m sure that’s true
But when girls say
In a friendly sort of way
That their dad has the same interests as you,
Then what is a guy to do
Other than smile and accept
That age
Has crept
Up on him like a thief in the bleak night
And that although he may, in the company of young women delight
He must
For the purposes of love or lust
Engage with women of a similar age
As no
Young ladies desire
A grey haired sire.
But oh!
If he have money it may be so …!
The Hands Are Almost At Half-Past
The hands are almost at half-past.
Will the clock last
The hour?
A sudden shock
Can stop
The clock
At …
And what of that?
For clocks
Are like flies,
One dies
But the great tick tock
Continues on,
Though one is gone.
Sunlight And Shade
Sunlight and shade
A girl made
With tresses brown
As Autumn’s gown.
I lay me down
Upon the forest’s ground
And lost myself there.
But oh despair
For when I awoke
And her name spoke
She was no longer there.
I am a fool
To think my mistress cruel.
Her beauty is beyond art
But lose not your heart
To her
For there is no heart to lose
In return
And as surely as the earth does turn
There is no love to return.
Everyone Has Their Thing
Alert: Risque humour below:
Everyone has their thing
Or most people do,
Whether it be a high-heel shoe
Or string,
Most people have their thing.
Alert!
The prim secretary, in her conservative skirt
And the sober executive, in his crisp white shirt,
All have their kink,
The chains that clink,
The Fluffy handcuff
And other such stuff.
Yes I think
That everyone has their kink.
But it simply won’t do
To dwell on the stiletto shoe
For I am a bore
And my thoughts are pure.
The Leaves Are Falling Down By Laura Routh
I enjoyed Laura Routh’s poem “The Leaves Are Falling Down”, https://owlinthewood.com/blog/2018/5/19/first-poem-the-leaves-are-falling-down. For me, the poem isn’t merely about the forest ageing and the coming of Autumn, it also speaks of the harmful effect humans often have on the natural world.
The World’s Oldest Profession Just Won’t Go Away
The All Party Parliamentary Group on Prostitution has recommended that paying for sex be criminalised (they argue that it is paying customers, mainly men, who are driving human trafficking and express concern regarding so-called “pop-up brothels”, where a property is rented for a short period then abandoned by the traffickers allowing them to stay one step ahead of the law.
This piece, by the Press association, https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/may/21/sexual-exploitation-uk-women-pop-up-brothels-report) reminds me of my poem “Circles” in which I ponder upon this highly contentious subject, https://newauthoronline.com/2016/07/15/circles/.
Greenbelt
I go out
Before the multitude is about
And walk in the wood
Where the air is good
And there are no words
Save for the birds
Who’s song, though not for man
Can set him free
Of desire. So is it for me
As I simply be
Amongst bird and tree.
Then the din
Sets in.
Not of human shout,
Although there are houses here about
That skirt the wood. I here the cry
Of the young in search of homes to call their own.
It is contended that we must sacrifice some green spaces
To accommodate the young’s need for places
To live. But if the Green Belt is no longer sacrosanct
What scant
Greenery will stay
When the planners have had their way?
I doubt this wood will go
Though other spots of green
Now seen
Will turn black
Under tarmac
And some will notice the lack
When the rats race
Where there was once a green place.
Perhaps I am being unfair
For Darren and Claire
And there 2.5 kids need somewhere
To live.
But will their children give
Thanks to mum and dad when there
Is less green
To be seen
Than was previously the case
And nature’s face
Is converted into neat little garden rows.
Who knows?
Not I
But for now I have tree and sky.
K Morris - Poet 