Men may choose Chinese
Or whatever they please
For in the great marketplace
A girl’s legs and face
Can command a price
(Which some call vice).
The girl studying for her degree
And the single mum provide fun
But the fun
Commands a fee.
In what some call work
A pimp may lurk
Somewhere in the dark shadow.
Perhaps it isn’t so
But how do men know?
A wicked young lady known as Follett
Has relieved many men of their wallet.
But me, being pure
I am perfectly sure
That my wallet is safe from Follett …!
—
A wicked young lady known as Follett
Has relieved many men of their wallet.
I hide mine behind the curtain
With a girl called Miss Person,
Where its perfectly safe from Miss Follett …!
A gossipy young lady known as Nell
Likes to claim she knows me well.
I remember Miss Jane
With her mean cane,
But I really don’t remember that Nell!
On a day
In late November
A cold autumn breeze
Rustles through the trees
Seeming to say,
“A freezing December
Is on its way”.
Do you remember how we
Sat on that fallen tree?
I love the wood
In which that tree stood.
All must decay.
Though we had no love
To fade away.
Just my middle-aged lust
And fear of dust
And your need
To somehow feed.
Now that fallen tree
Reminds me of thee.
When a young lady named Miss Foster
Said, “sir, come with me to Gloucester.
Me and my girlfriend
Want a dirty weekend!”,
It ended with hot coffee in Costa!
In the dark park
A myriad leaves
Whirl in autumn’s breeze.
And optimists stress
The inevitability of progress.
But these fallen leaves
Do not deceive.
I never count my steps as I pass
Along the churchyard path.
Though as I have past
By faded old gravestones
And seen the churchyard trees
Bare of summer’s leaves,
I have known all steps lead me home.
I will close my curtain
And shut out the night.
But it is certain
That light
And dark
Will continue their fight
In my so human heart,
Until light and dark
Are swallowed by night.
On a cold autumn day
I find that time
Has stopped. But my clock
May be wound today.
Yet, one day
I will not
Know the day or time.
K Morris - Poet 