I sense but can not touch
And to write it down would be double dutch.
These trees,
These fallen leaves,
This breeze
All speak wordless words
By me only half-heard.
Often have I tried to grasp that which I can not hold,
A thing more precious than any gold.
It is a story told
from ancient time
Which can not be captured in this poor rhyme.
The autumn sun
shines upon my wall.
Soon day will be done.
Night must fall,
As sadness frequently follows delight.
Mourn not, for there can be no dark without the light.
When you get your thousand pound
Handbag will it make a profound
Difference to who you are?
Throw in a fast car
And you on the arm of a film star.
I wonder, as I stand
Pint in hand
On the other side of the bar
Whether such things
Can happiness bring.
Would you throw over your boyfriend
For a man who would spend
All his money
On a sweet, brainless honey?
In any event why should I care
For it is not my affair
And we all have our interests such as they are,
Mine being poetry, and yours a fast car.
There was a young lady called Viv
Who lived in a very big sieve.
She said, “despite the rain,
I staunchly maintain
Its great to live in a sieve …”!
Its raining out there.
I swear
That I will go out later,
But, seeing an alligator
I shall continue to reside
Safely Inside!
Perhaps I am in denial
And it is a crocodile
That lurks below.
Maybe I should my resolution harden
And go out into my garden
With my dog
And admit that that fearsome creature is, in fact a log …!
I maintain
That despite the rain
Crocodile and alligator
That I will go
Below
But let it be later …!
There was a young man called Baccus
Who caused a bit of a fraccus
By getting drunk one day
And leading his colleagues astray.
Our employer he threatened to sackus!
A great poet and musician has left us, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xk7DOe5EGgM).
Venus wants new shoes
And knowing not which pair to choose
Turns to Baccus who, lost in wine
Thinks her divine
And, taking out his credit card,
(For he has no hard cash)
Does, in a moment rash
Buy the lot
For he has got
More money than sense.
No expense
Will he spare
To keep Venus fair
At his side,
Though in rare
Moments of sobriety, he feels a lack of pride in self
And turning to the shelf
Pours another drink
Until he does into forgetfulness once more sink.
Sobriety does hurt,
For it makes Baccus alert
And causes him to think on the variety
Of nymphs he has known
And ponder on why he has always felt alone.
Picking up the telephone,
Venus arranges to get her hair
Done, for a girl must have fun
And take care of herself.
She has her man’s wealth
And a good lawyer lined up for when it all goes awry,
For Venus knows that his passion will die
And she will catch the eye
Of another rich guy
Who, like Baccus, lacking sense
Will spare no expense
In buying everything
Save for happiness, for that money can not bring,
Though the cynics say, it does soften lonleness’s sting …
I have lost myself in arms
Heedless of alarms
That warn of expensive charms.
I have smelt
The rose and felt
Its power,
Losing precious hour
In many a rented bower.
I have seen it all, plain as a pikestaff
And heard Nemesis’s mocking laugh.
Yet oft times a man learns too late
That he makes his own fate.
Walking through these fallen leaves, I think of Ozymandias.
All things pass.
The rotten
Is soon forgotten
And all
Idols fall.
K Morris - Poet 