There was a young man from Greece
Who bought a house on a lease.
His estate agent, named Claire
Said “I swear
That with this purchase your wealth will increase!”.
There Was A Young Man From Greece
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Tag Archives: poetry
She Tired
She tired.
Once desired
Her idea
Inspired
Restless nights,
Delights
And fear.
But pleasures heights
Achieved
He grieved
For she
Who lay tired
And no more desired.
There Was A Young Lady Named Kate
There was a young lady named Kate
Who lived on a country estate.
Her father, lord Moor
Was a terrible old bore
So Kate ran away with his mate!
Dinosaur
When man sins
The world spins on
And will do so
Long after his joy and woe
Are gone
With the dinosaur
Who came before.
Mass Murderers Both
Yesterday evening I bumped into an old acquaintance in the pub. Our conversation ranged far and wide and at one point touched on the atrocities perpetrated by Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. There was some discussion as to which dictator was the worst criminal, with my acquaintance maintaining that Stalin was the greater due to him having murdered around 20 million of his own people. My view of the matter is set-out in my poem, “Hitler and Stalin” which first appeared here some time ago:
—
The Gulag.
The present like the past is mad.
Black clad figures
Their fingers on triggers.
Russian or Prussian?
An interesting discussion.
Jews and Kulaks their lives lose.
Who to choose?
A man drowning in his country’s blood,
Or one who would destroy Jewry if he could?
What a choice.
History’s voice
is cold and level,
“We allied with the devil,
To destroy his twin,
the mirror image of him.
The world is a better place
But a nasty taste
Still lingers.
Man has burned his fingers,
To often,
History’s lessons are easily forgotten”.
There Was A Young Lady Named Claire
There was a young lady named Claire
Who visited the wolf in his lair.
Without bothering to phone
She went there alone.
There was a young lady named Claire …
The Writer’s Pen
You accuse me of hiding in my ivory tower.
I answer that I have no power,
Other than my pen
Which when
It scratches
Sometimes catches
The truth of the matter,
Causing the fine porcelain
Of your ideals to shatter,
Revealing the stain
Called human nature.
For each man is a prater
And the writer’s pen
Can interpret the hearts of men.
A Rich Young Lady Called Claire
A rich young lady called Claire
Said “I really do care
About the plight of the poor.
We should do far more”.
So she donated her faux fur coat!
What Does That Blind Man Do
What does that blind man do
Gazing through
Empty space
As though he could trace
In thin air
Something you and me
Dare not see?
Walking back from the park,
His thoughts dark.
A sense of grief
At the lack of belief.
Then came the wind chimes,
Signifying nought but rhymes?
“My Old Clock I Wind” audio download
In my post of 13 August, (https://newauthoronline.com/2017/08/13/my-old-clock-i-wind-will-soon-be-available-as-an-audio-download/), I said that my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind” was in the process of being recorded.
I am pleased to announce that I have now received the completed recording.
Once approved by me “My Old Clock I Wind” will be available to purchase as an audio download from audible.co.uk and audible.com. I will, of course post links here once “My Old Clock” goes live.
In the meantime, “My Old Clock” can be purchased, in ebook and paperback formats from the publisher, http://moyhill.com/clock/, or from Amazon, (ebook only), https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG.
—
“I can hear the wind laughing outside
At our human pride.
The Tide
Of time moves on
And we are gone
With the wind
That will rescind
All
These scribbles on the wall”.
(“Wind” is copyright K Morris and can be found in “My Old Clock I Wind”).
K Morris - Poet 