When a young lady of great beauty
Said, “sir, it is your bounden duty
To pay my expenses.
There will be recompenses”.
I said, “beauty it rhymes with duty!”.
When a Young Lady of Great Beauty
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Tag Archives: poets
Light and Shade
A delight
Of sunlight
On the woodland path
Greets me
As I pass
Many an ancient tree.
Where I to go back
Along that self-same track
I would find
In my mind
A place of shades,
Where the sunlight, sometimes, plays.
The World is Going Mad
The world is going mad.
I would
Go to the pub
With friends. But the pub
Is closed
And heaven only knows
When it will reopen.
The world is going mad.
I would choose to lose
Myself in a book,
But one can not shut
Oneself forever, away.
The world is going mad.
I would eat in a cafe
But a takeaway
Is all I can have.
And the BMA say
That diners in restaurants need masks.
The world is going mad.
We are told
That lovers (from a different household)
May not play at home.
Draconian laws, never prevented drawers
From falling down.
The world is going mad.
The pompous frown
And call for yet more unenforceable law.
While the police smile a weary smile,
And dream of real crime.
The world is going mad.
So I will spend my time
In rhyme.
For that is no offense.
But let there be no pretence
That rhyme
Makes the world less mad.
A Poem from “The Selected Poems of K Morris”
Music for a dying
Civilisation followed me along London’s Victoria Street.
Then, lost amidst a myriad hurrying feet,
It’s sighing,
Gradually died away.
As I Ascended the Winding Stair
As I ascended the winding stair
I met with my mistress Claire.
Who said, with a frown,
“Your old wife,Mrs Brown,
Just gave me a terrible glare!”.
Fallen Blossom
I pass
Fallen blossom
On the path.
I had almost forgotten
That summer is here.
The fallen blossom
Is dear
To the tree,
But is soon forgotten
By you, and me.
Passion Killer
Couples in the USA are being advised to wear masks to protect against the transmission of COVID-19 if they have sex. The lunatics are, I think finally taking over the asylum, (see https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-8384891/Couples-arent-quarantining-avoid-kissing-wear-FACE-MASKS-says-study.html).
The above advice sparked the below poem:
How to kill passion.
First, fashion
A mask.
This is a simple task
For some.
A few
May have fun
Its true,
By which I mean
Those who are into the fetish scene!
Doctors say, that, “if you absolutely must
Indulge your lust,
Then wear a mask, for ’twill protect you,
From your lover true”.
It must be said
That romance is dead.
Forget the condom.
Its a mask you should have on!.
A Profession as Old as Humankind
Whilst looking through my blog’s archives, I came across 2 posts on the theme of sex work. The first is a link to me reading my poem “The Professional Escort, whilst the second is a review of “Lucky Girl”, a book by former professional escort Violet Ivy.
You can find my poem “The High Class Escort” here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmVdogOUwFQ&feature=emb_title.
My review of Violet Ivy’s “Lucky Girl” is accessible here, https://kmorrispoet.com/2013/07/01/book-review-lucky-girl-how-i-survived-the-sex-industry-by-violet-ivy/.
For anyone interested in the ethics of sex work/prostitution, you can find my review of “Being and Being Bought” here, https://kmorrispoet.com/2018/10/19/being-and-being-bought-prostitution-surrogacy-and-the-split-self-by-kajsa-ekis-ekman-book-review/. The book is written by a left-wing feminist and describes prostitution as exploitation of women by men. In it the author calls for the world to adopt the Swedish law under which those who pay for sex are criminalised.
There is, of course an alternative perspective to that expounded in “Being and Being Bought”, which consists of the argument that sex work/prostitution should be decriminalised. See, for example the website of The English Collective of Prostitutes, https://prostitutescollective.net/.
Kevin
A Poet’s Broken Heart
There once was a poet named Gus
Who said, “we have much to discuss
Of literature and art,
And my broken heart”.
But his lover said, “Gus, don’t fuss!”.
Dog and Man
I see the sky
And ponder on biology
And culture, that maketh me.
Or am
I part
Of some great plan
For man?
My dog has a heart
Full of love for me.
He is biology
(As I am),
But is he part
Of some inscrutable plan
For dog and man?
I am told
That my dog has no soul,
Yet he is more loving than
Many a man.
Or is it art
That separates dog from man?
Perhaps we are part
Of some god’s great plan.
In the end
My old friend,
I think there is just
The great sky above,
And dust,
and love.
K Morris - Poet 