“I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all. Believe none of us”.
(“Hamlet”, Act 3, Scene 1).
I heard a rumour today
That yet another part
Of England’s heart
Is about to pass away.
Wilt
More flats be built
Where once there stood
A pub?
Shall beer and wine
Be replaced by the bottom line?
The drunkards now sing
But profit is king.
I see the open fire as I write
The coals all alight
And almost feel it’s blaze.
Shall profit’s craze
Erase all?
Let us raise a pint to the identikit
World into which we all must fit,
Where the suited and booted
Discuss the bottom line
While sipping their overpriced wine.
Of course it may not be true
In this particular case,
But England’s face
Is changing nonetheless.
My mistress’s green dress
Is frayed.
her lovers have strayed
– And the brewry’s bills must be paid
There was a young milkmaid named Howe
Who owned an extremely large cow.
A young man called Mike
Said “come ride on my bike”.
But the poor girl didn’t know how!
The judge put the black cap upon his head
And looking at the prisoner in the dock said,
“You are guilty of the slaughter
Of mother, son, father and daughter.
Down the years
You have provoked countless tears
And you shall pay
For your crimes today.
We have drugs that will keep you under control.
You have had your final soul.
I sentence you to perpetual irrelevance.
Now go you hence!”.
The Grim Reaper bowed his knee
And said “so shall it be.
I leave you in the hands of my good friend
Tedium Eternal, for death is at an end …”.
The clock
Does mock
His shoes
Her discarded sock.
“Those who in boudoirs stay
Will lose
Time
For they
Being at play
Do not hear
My chime,
Or perhaps out of fear
Turn a deaf ear
To the rhyme
Of time”.
“I Saw A Great Tent” can be found in my collection of poetry “My Old Clock I Wind”, http://moyhill.com/clock/.
I hear the tide’s roar
In a shell
That I keep near to me.
‘Tis some time since I walked along the shore.
But I know well
That the sea
Yearns to be free.
“Unrequited” can be found in “Refractions” by K Morris
There was a young lady named Ling.
We met at the start of spring.
She said “nature is budding.
Do have some Christmas pudding”.
But it really wasn’t my fing!
—
There was a young lady named Ling.
We met at the start of spring.
She heaved a great sigh
And said “I don’t know why
The spring it rhymes with Ling”.
My poem, “Leaves Blown At Night”, came to me as I walked with my guide dog, Trigger, on a December evening in Liverpool. The leaves blowing around my feet reminded me of the fleetingness of things and, in particular my own mortality
K Morris - Poet 