So many disdain
The life-giving rain
And pray
For a sunny day.
But I
On hearing the rain
Pattering on my window pane,
Or, on looking up to the great sky
And feeling purifying water upon my face,
Give thanks for this green place,
And the flowers that in such profusion sprout,
And pray that we can avoid a drought.
I know a young lady most respectable
Who abhors anything at all sexual.
Whilst eating strawberries and cream
She said, “in a dream,
I dreamt that you where almost respectable!”.
I was pleased to read this interview with Gabriela M, a writer whose work I greatly admire, https://spillwords.com/spotlight-on-writers-gabriela-m/.
Please do read Gabriela’s interview and visit her blog which can be found here, https://shortprose.blog/author/shortprose12/.
Kevin
2 Goddesses I know
And will go
And worship at their feet
But they may my ardour defeat
And bid me cease,
‘Else they will call the police!
Should I therefore hold my peace,
Or whisper words of love
To a goddess above?
And if I express my passion
To a young lady of fashion,
To which one should
I speak?
I am weak
With desire,
‘Tis best to kill this fire
For ’tis only a delusion
That a goddess could
Give me her love,
And confusion
Would, I maintain
Reign, where I to voice
My love
To 2 goddesses above.
No, I shall stay
Away from goddesses
As there is too much choice . . .
There once was a poet named Lee
Who wrote a poem about a bee,
But his verse being poor
The bee said, “no more!”,
And stung him on the knee!
—
There once was a poet named Lee
Who composed a poem about a bee,
But his verse being poor
The creature said, “I implore,
That you write no more about me!”.
—
There once was a poet named Lee
Who composed a poem about a bee,
But his verse was so very bad
That it drove the creature quite mad,
So he flew into a tree!
I kiss
And partake
In bliss,
Then wake
To my greying head
And an empty bed.
Whilst searching my store cupboard
I found old Mother Hubbard,
She lay on a bunk
With a disreputable old monk,
But her doggy I never discovered!
A barber whose name is Dave
Invites men in for a shave,
With his large cutthroat razor,
Which he calls the final eraser,
And the police are questioning Dave!
A young lady of Battersea
Invites men round for tea.
A man from Clapham
Says nothing will happen,
But I’m going round to see!
When a young lady named Lou
Threw at me her shoe,
I quickly did duck
And said, “bad luck!”,
But she owned another shoe!
K Morris - Poet 