As I strolled through London’s Crystal Palace
I met a young lady named Alice.
She and Miss Follett
Have borrowed my wallet.
Has anyone seen that Follett or Alice?
Miss Follett and Alice
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Tag Archives: poetry blogs
The Ageing Reprobate
I have felt the bitter cold
And thought of sinning
With young women
And of how I grow old.
I have heard the clock tick
And heels click
In the late evening
And engaged in couplings and leavings.
I have considered right and wrong
And fought the fire
Of my desire
But my lust was very strong.
I have pondered on old rakes
And the mistakes
Of my flawed humanity .
And sometimes I see
The Grim Reaper coming for me.
(Doubtless I have been influenced by poets much greater than I in the composition of the above poem).
When a Morbid Young Man Named White
When a morbid young man named White
Said, “I may die this very night!”.
I said, “I’ll have your lover
The beautiful and talented Miss Glover”
White said, “yes, that is perfectly alright!”
Winter Churchyard
I heard no birds
In the winter churchyard.
It was just
The cold sky
The tombs
And I
On a darkening afternoon.
Mole Who was Fond of Eating Coal
There once was a man named Mole
Who had a liking for eating coal.
A jolly old squire
Lit a great fire
Which quickly burned Mole and his coal!
The Bachelor
You in just
Your heels.
Me and my lust.
Sometimes it feels
Like love.
But I won’t lie
And go with your pretend
That I am your friend.
We have known each other
A long time.
I buy dinner and wine
Then we go back
Like 2 lovers
To my bachelor flat
Where we pretend
At lovers and friends.
Next day we chat
Of this and that
Over hot tea.
You smoke a cigarette.
Then leave me
With my regret
And thoughts of how
I am growing old.
Minus 3
It will be minus 3 tonight.
The light
Dies fast in winter.
There is a splinter
Of ice in my heart
With which I make art.
True, sometimes the sun breaks through.
But for now I rhyme
Of wintertime.
Spring will bring birdsong
But winter’s splinter is forever part
Of my poet’s heart.
Though birdsong does not last long
It may live on
When I am gone
In a rhyme of my wintertime.
Night
Beyond the light
Of the commuter train
The falling night
Is full of rain.
I came
From this night
To play in sunlight,
But must return again
To night.
Scanning the Menu
Men may choose Chinese
Or whatever they please
For in the great marketplace
A girl’s legs and face
Can command a price
(Which some call vice).
The girl studying for her degree
And the single mum provide fun
But the fun
Commands a fee.
In what some call work
A pimp may lurk
Somewhere in the dark shadow.
Perhaps it isn’t so
But how do men know?
Wicked Miss Follett
A wicked young lady known as Follett
Has relieved many men of their wallet.
But me, being pure
I am perfectly sure
That my wallet is safe from Follett …!
—
A wicked young lady known as Follett
Has relieved many men of their wallet.
I hide mine behind the curtain
With a girl called Miss Person,
Where its perfectly safe from Miss Follett …!
K Morris - Poet 