I confess
That I have sought
For beauty
Under a dress
And thought
That I had found
Beauty
Profound
In sighs
And yielding thighs.
Yet, many a time
I confess
That I did find
Beneath that dress
Her perfect skin
And the figure slim,
But no beauty of mind.
Like a bull
In a china shop
I have run amok.
And have been full
Of the sweet,
And found I could
Eat
More, yet
It was not love,
And I can not pretend
That it did not end
In regret.
I have had a desire
For fire
And striven to obtain
The flame
But when the fire
I did obtain,
I have been left,
Listening to the rain.
A pretty young lady named Flo
Has a boyfriend whose name is Joe.
He is over 6 foot 3
And doesn’t know anything about me,
Or the arrangement I have with Flo!
Were I to compose
A poem about a rose
Some would see young women,
And, maybe, find therein
A reference to sin.
I shall, therefore, suppose
Not a rose
But the fruit
Of Paradise,
Which is, as the reader knows
At the root
Of love, and vice.
When a young lady named Leigh
Said, “I am feeling extremely naughty!”.
I said, “I am glad,
As I like you bad,
But the vicar’s here for tea!”.
I did softly explore
A flower, as yet
Unopened. And, on returning for more,
I found (to my half-regret)
That a bee
Had been before
And explored that flower,
To it’s tender core.
I walk amidst these
Windblown
Leaves.
How time has flown.
I shall in beauty drown,
And think on these
Fallen leaves,
Which now strew the ground.
Power
Play.
Shower.
Away.
When a rather elderly gentleman named Lord,
Who, feeling extremely bored,
Called on miss Sue,
And my girlfriend Lou,
I went in search of my sword!
K Morris - Poet 