Time, as the shower runs away.
Will she not stay?
Each line upon the face,
Speaks of her fading grace.
The girl’s plaster smile.
He is in denial.
“Will you remain a while?”
He asks.
“No, this can not last.
I see the chasm yawning vast.
The hours,, like sand run away.
The dawn rises, I can not stay”.
The spider in his own web entangles,
Struggles exstatically, then slowly strangles.
The fly sucks the spider dry.
Smiling sweetly, to see him die.
Me reading my poem ‘Plinths’
As obscene as the breaking of glass,
Or the whisper of gas from the past.
“The jews are mean” you said.
Dead bodies in a camp.
The lamp shines on the food divine.
You drink more wine.
A train somewhere in the distance passes,
Somewhere glass smashes.
I am the girl who wasn’t there.
I did not sit upon that chair,
playing provocatively with my hair.
I did not drink that expensive wine,
While gazing on your paintings fine.
I did not recline under the quilt so red,
Or moan with exstasy in your bed.
If by chance, an earing she should find,
Worry not, it is not mine.
Sense loses itself in desire.
Man burns on passion’s pyre.
Love’s heat inflames,
Befuddles his brains.
Come the cooling rain,
He feels only shame,
Yet will return again,
To joy and pain
Tentative knocking on a suburban door,
Innocence enters but departs no more.
Clothes scattered on the bedroom floor,
Dreams shattered to be dreamed no more.
Girls apply their masks.
No one asks.
A rumpled bed.
The words unsaid.
The night before
Is a closed door
To be opened no more.
The joyless kiss.
The passing lips.
The empty bliss.
No, not this!
Two girls hesitant to dance.
He seeking a kind of romance.
They with an eye to the main chance
Reluctantly advance.
K Morris - Poet 