Tag Archives: poetry blogs

The Horseman

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How easy to construe
The new and inviting
For what is true.
The ride exciting
Will
Thrill
For a while.
The denial
That a thing has become banal
Shall
Not prevent it from being so.
The rider halfheartedly says “woe”
But the horse
Will continue on it’s familiar course.

“I will turn back”the horsemen doth say
“Yet how easy it is to stay
On the well trodden way.
The day
Grows dark
And the lark
Has long since ceased to sing.
The weary fairies in their ring
To me call.
Oh, how easy ‘Tis to fall …”.

Heels

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Heels clicking.
A clock ticking.
Sounds intermingle.
Fantasies kindle
In the mind of the single man
Who can
But hear
The click of stillettos
Passing near.

Supine he lies,
And closing his eyes
Tries
To slumber.
Idly he doth wonder
What takes
A girl out so late
And who else wakes,
Rapt, by joy or fear
Harkening to heels
Passing near.

The Fox and the Devil

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Lucifer fell
Into a well
And said, “I wonder who herein does dwell?
The dark be dammed, its blacker than hell!”

“Tis I”, said the fox sly,
I too fell in here.
‘Tis clear
I will die.
Yet, I am the bolder
Of we two.
Let me stand upon your shoulder
And cause a to-do!
Never fear
I will summon help here.

So the devil did accept
And the fox leapt
Up on to Satan’s shoulder
And being the bolder
Of the two
Threw
himself out.
You should have heard the devil shout!
“A pox
On you fox.
Come back forthwith
And give
Me a hand”
He did command.

Said the fox sly
“No thank you, I will fly
Far away.
For the sake of humanity, ‘Tis better you dwell
Forever in this well”,
And truth to tell
He will there remain
Until the terrain
Of Hell freezes over.
Truly, God is in clover!

An Unsuitable Attachment

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An unsuitable attachment
Leads on to detachment.
The slow drip, drip
Of anoyances strip
Bare
Any pretence that either party care.

Beware
For the perfect bust
Engenders lust
Which may be for true passion mistaken.

When dalliance is over, the forsaken
Heart Cries
Out for love, and seeks joy in another’s eyes.
‘Tis frequently a temporary reprieve
For lonleness will oft times cause man to believe
That desire is love.

The gods above
Shrug,
For they have seen it all before.
And well know
That further woe
Is in store.

The Play

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Sitting on a bench in the school playground
With children milling all around.
Yes, I remember it as though it was yesterday,
The actors came to perform a play.
Me weak
With a longing only half understood.
Unable to speak
And gawkishly shy,
I would
Die
Where I to address
The girl in the summer dress.

I recollect nought of the play
Yet thoughts of the actresses with me stay.
With age
‘Tis said one becomes a sage.
Today
Different actors perform upon the stage
And now my hair is grey
I pay
To see the players play.
As with the actors of yesterday
They too, will fade away.

Burning

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The fire
Rages
In stages.
At times it burns low
And I know
Sleep
Will creep
Into my room,,
Her sweet perfume
Rendering me
Free
Of desire.

Yet at other times the fire
Doth burn
Bright.
My thoughts turn
To delight,
Which slippery as eels
Itself reveals,
Then, a fleeting satisfaction seals.

Midnight steals
Away.
The hot coal
In my soul
By day
Burns low
Yet I know
The glow
Is always there
And will, once more, flare

Squire and Peasant

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I see a vanished land
Where the squire held command
Over the countryside,
Before the tide
Turned
And paternalism was spurned,
Or merely ebbed away
Ushering in a new day.

To hounds he rode
Or through his estate strode
In search of grouse or pheasant.
With countenance pleasant
Or severe
He ruled his peasants
Far and near.

Sometimes a thinker
And often a drinker
He felt a connection with the whole
Estate, his soul
Was as one
with generations long since gone.
Frequently inarticulate
He did hate
The untried
And cried
Out for the preservation of the old ways.

Nothing stays
Unaltered.
The rock-like squire faltered
As the wind of progress
That does redress
All ills, brought salvation
To the nation.
Now those who the price of everything know, hold command
While squire and peasant stand
Bemused, upon this altered land.

A review of my latest collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”

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Thank you to Emma Lee for taking the time to read and review my latest collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”. You can find Emma’s review here, https://emmalee1.wordpress.com/2016/05/11/lost-in-the-labyrinth-of-my-mind-k-morris/.

To all those who hate

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There is a quiet place out of reach
Of those who hatred preach.
They prate,
And understand to late
Or perhaps not at all
That pride comes before a fall.

Words meaningful as a harlot’s compliment fall
On the ear
Of men who hear, What they want to hear.
The truth clear
Is, I fear
To often lost, in sound and beer.

The fanatic’s words drear
Will Fill the empty soul
Of those who’s goal
Is the destruction of the whole
Liberal project,
To which They object
Without knowing why,
Then, pointlessly die.