To fulfil
My need
To feed
I eat the orange that will
Not seed
And throw the pips away.
But stay,
Is it need
Or greed
That causes me to feed?
Eating An Orange
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Tag Archives: poetry
Bedroom
A place
Of quietude
Where few intrude.
Yet a trace
Of perfume
Has been known
To linger in the room,
On the lone
Sheet,
Where strangers rarely meet
There Was A Young Lady Called Lin
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
I said, with a smile
“Will you stay there a while”,
But she left for my biscuit tin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
Being rather witty
And extremely pretty
She led me into sin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
When I said, “are you okay?”
She replied “I like it this way”,
That strange young lady called Lin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
She made her escape
In a bright red cape
As its better out than in!
Some Thoughts On My Local Churchyard
To and fro
Through the churchyard I go
One day I know
That it will not be so.
Why should I care?
For I will not be there
To know.
Writing Blind
Earlier today, (Tuesday 26th June), I came across a fascinating podcast in which blind poets Giles L Turnbull and Dave Steele discuss sight loss, their lives and their work.
I found Turnbull’s vivid evocation of colours in the poem he read both moving and beautiful, while Steele’s composition on the subject of his hereditary eye condition, RP also touched me deeply. In the latter poem Steele hopes that his young children will avoid inheriting his RP, however, if they do so he makes it crystal clear that they will still enjoy fulfilling lives.
I lost the majority of my own vision at approximately 18-months-old as the result of a blood clot on the brain. While I can see outlines of objects, I am unable to read print nor can I recognise either family or friends (other than by the sound of their voice). Given my own visual impairment the podcast was of particular interest to me. However it will also be of interest to lovers of poetry more generally.
To listen to the podcast please visit, https://www.rnib.org.uk/community/1689/topic/47582.
The Hair Of The Dog
We do what we shouldn’t.
I wouldn’t
Enquire
Into another’s desire
For when the wine flows
The staid
Maid
Shows …
When the day is warm
Bees to flowers swarm,
Birds sing
And the sting
Seems far away.
They say
That the hangover cure
Is the hair of the dog.
Good god
Are they sure!?
In The Churchyard Today
In the churchyard today
Through the play
Of light and shade
I my shadow made.
When I go away
Will my shadow stay
Behind for people to see
And say
“That was he
And now midst light and shade
His shadow is forever made”.
There Was A Young Lady Of Maynooth
There was a young lady of Maynooth
Who went by the name of Ruth.
My good friend Lin
Made a terrible din
When she danced up on the roof.
Bust
Bust
Rhymes
With lust
And dust.
As times
Change
We exchange
One lover
For another.
But tis the same dust
Into which we thrust
For we are all bust
In the end
My friend
There Is A Middle-Aged Lady Called Ruth
There is a middle-aged lady called Ruth
Who lived a misspent youth.
She claims to know me
But, you see
She rarely tells the truth …
K Morris - Poet 