I passed
Puddles on the churchyard path.
But when
I came that way again
I saw them no more.
How quickly men
Pass by
Puddles on the churchyard path,
And how soon they die.
Puddles on the Churchyard Path
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Tag Archives: poets
Does Poetry Have a Place in Business?
I recently read this fascinating article in the business magazine Forbes, by Stephanie Denning, entitled “Does Poetry Have a Place in Business” https://www.forbes.com/sites/stephaniedenning/2018/04/06/does-poetry-have-a-place-in-business-one-unsung-success-secret/.
In the article Denning argues that those who read poetry develop their imaginations and imagination is an important factor in driving successful business.
I believe that poetry is valuable in and of itself. It is not merely a utilitarian means to the end of good business practice. Denning accepts this, but contends that reading poetry is also valuable in driving business success.
I have never worked in a business environment (other than selling and promoting my books), and would be interested to hear the views of any readers who have (or are) employed in business. Why does poetry matter to you? Or why does it not matter? Or you merely indifferent to it?
A State of Grace
A young lady whose name is Lorna
Has a job in a sordid sauna.
When I walk passed that place
With that sweet girl Miss Grace,
I remember we met in that sauna …
Cigarettes
One white the other black.
They left to get cigarettes.
Would they be back?
He didn’t know
But half hoped so.
He remembers cigarettes
But forgets
Girl’s names.
Sometimes he regrets
The old game.
But reflects, “expensive cigarettes
Are not my shame”.
An Invitation
When a naughty young lady named Lou
Said, “please do join me and Sue”,
I said to Miss Flow,
“I think we should go!”,
But Flow was too busy with Lou!
Sitting on this Fallen Log
Sitting on this fallen log
With my dog
Nearby, I touch the reality
Of this tree,
Which once stood
In this Great North Wood.
It’s brother trees still stand
Their canopy shading me
From the evening sun.
Others will come
And sit or stand
In this place
When this old fallen tree
And you who
Now read me
Have vanished without trace.
The Scents of a Mild July
The scents of a mild July
Fill the woodland air.
There has been a heavy downpour.
I know there
Will be more
Rain to soak the dry
Earth here in the UK.
While elsewhere
People die
In the blistering sun.
Today, it is not the UK.
But another heatwave will surely come
And we will pray
For the rain again.
The autumn
Used to bring fallen leaves
While the springtime
Brought flowers.
Now I rhyme
Of confusion
and the illusion of progress.
But man’s hour?
I know not
When his clock may stop.
A Most Morbid Young Man Named Paul
A most morbid young man named Paul
Decided to put an end to all
By traveling to Bristol
With an antique pistol.
But he didn’t like Bristol at all!
This Falling Rain
This falling rain
Offers an excuse to remain
In the dry
Pub. So you and I,
Forgetting the rain,
Drink again.
Though we know
When we go
The rain
Will remain.
My AI Girlfriend
I have just purchased an AI girlfriend
Who is driving me round the bend.
She calls me her honey
And spends all my money,,
Which is just like my real girlfriend!
K Morris - Poet 