You
Take a size 4 to five shoe.
I take a 10 to 11.
Heaven
Is an imagined place,
Although when my face
Does flush
(I blush
To say)
Heaven does not seem that far away
For me, but my shoe
Will not fit you
And we both agree
That yours are too small for me.
Keats had his Nightingale, which made him think of death.
I have my owl, which brings to mind Macbeth.
Tis a different name
For the same
Thing.
The morning birds sing
Replacing the owl’s cry
And I
Ponder on Keats, who is remembered still
And wonder will
My owl survive
Long after I am alive.
There was a young lady named Lou
Who lost her high heel shoe.
When it was found under my bed
Unprintable words where said,
But that’s strictly between me and you!
As I walk through the churchyard,
Along this hard
Path,
I laugh
For although
The day Is cold, those below
Do not know
That it is so
It is said that the magpie
Steals shiny trinkets. I
Am left pondering on why
At a single shot from Cupid’s bow
Some men go
Quite mad and embrace
The silk and lace
Of the lady Charlotte
Who, in her scarlet
Dress
Has led the fool and the sage
(In every age)
To confess.
Ere they return again,
To their pain
And Charlotte’s gain.
There was a young lady named Bess
Who decided her sins to confess.
I advised her not to do so
As it would end in woe
And I kept her little black dress …
“Rain” was written some 4 years ago and does not currently appear in any of my books. Below is a recording of me reading the poem,
I met a nymph in a wood
Who was both fair
And good.
I said to her
“I wonder could …?”
In a manner most coy
She replied “my dear boy
The weather is hot
And I really should
Not …”.
I came
To your flame
And full of desire
Extinguished your fire.
You were hot
And needed me not,
But being a little bad
You took what I had.
My desire
Will expire
Leaving a broken candle
For another to handle.
But tonight
I delight
In the flame
I shall not name
There was a young man named Rory
Who was a one nation Tory.
A bust of Disraeli spoke
And told him a joke.
That drunken one nation Tory!
K Morris - Poet 