My friend whose name is Grist
Is a deep red Communist.
He made all of his money
Through trading in sweet honey,
And Honey is now suing Grist!
My Communist Friend
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Tag Archives: poets
On the Internet
On the internet
You may find love.
Regret.
God above.
(Or nature
Or some other creator).
On the internet regret
Is sold
For gold.
At the click of a mouse
A foreign spouse
Will come to stay
(If you can pay!).
Or a lover for the night
Will bring you sweet delight
But you must have money
To pay for your honey.
The web may mangle
And the unwary entangle
In pleasure and pain.
But, much is mundane
For there is nothing shocking
About food shopping.
Social Darwinism
I once had a friend called Grist
Who was a most fervent Social Darwinist.
Whilst out on the stormy sea
It was either him or me.
Oh, how I miss that Social Darwinist!
Lou and Bess
When a young lady whose name is Lou
Said, “I’m feeling really quite blue”,
And her dearest friend miss Bess
Said, “lets take off our dress”.
I thought, what should a shy man do …
Mother Nature
In thee
I see
And hear
Beauty and cruelty.
The sweetness of birdsong
Brings tears to my eye,
For I
Know that our birdsong
Will not last long.
Some see cruelty
In the cat’s play with the bird,
But have they not heard
That we, in nature see
Our own inhumanity.
A cat
Remains just that,
A cat,
Whilst we …
Humans anthropomorphize
And say, in nature lies
Beauty and cruelty.
But, what we see
Is you and me.
Lou Who Lost Her Stockings
There was a young lady called Lou
Who wrote a limerick most blue.
It concerned the loss of her stockings,
And was so very shocking,
That I won’t repeat it to you!
Abusive Relationship
The below was sent to me by a female friend and is reproduced with her kind permission. The poem pertains to an abusive relationship so, if this may trigger emotions you would not wish to be triggered, you may wish to avoid reading the below:
I’m glad I’m out of there
Now, it’s time for some self-care
You don’t deserve me
You pushed and you shoved me
Where there’s violence, there’s no real love there
A Young Woman’s Shoes
You left your shoes under my bed.
It must
Be said
That there was no love, just lust
On my part,
And your calculating, heart.
You did not return,
And I, never learned.
Autumn Fly
It may seem strange to repost my poem “Autum Fly” in the spring. However, the weather was cold yesterday. Indeed it was autumnal and, for a time wintry in nature. The change in weather brought to mind “Autumn Fly”, which is reproduced below:
An autumn fly
Buzzes around my head.
Summer is dead
Yet will not die.
Seasons pass.
We are brittle as glass
This fly
And I.
National Limerick Day
A friend emailed me this morning, with a reminder that it is National Limerick Day, (https://nationaltoday.com/national-limerick-day/). So, in honour of this event I have composed the below limerick:
There was a young lady named Gale
Whose activities made her mother turn pale.
She went out to sea
With a vicar called Lee,
And used her dress as a sail!
K Morris - Poet 