Stream of consciousness
More or less.
Heels and shopping deals.
She steals
Away.
He will shop another day
Stream Of Consciousness More Or Less
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Tag Archives: poets
When My Friend Whose Name Was Ted
When my friend whose name was Ted
Said, “I think I may be dead”,
I made reply,
“You did die,
And your wife she warms my bed!”.
It Is A Chilly Day
It is a chilly day.
Should I be bold
And say
That I require? desire?
Some heat
To defeat
The cold
For today?
When Me And My Friend Nell
When me and my friend Nell
Went to an exclusive hotel,
And a young lady named Rose
Said, “take off your clothes”,
I said, “Nell, is this a hotel?”
Your Hand Can Command A Fire
Your hand
Can command
A fire.
Desire burns
Ere it turns
Into pools
Where fools
Drown in sin
While the devil of lust
And dust
Looks on with a woolfish grin.
On this Windy Day
On this windy day
In April
I can not say
Whether the flowers I pass
On this woodland path
Will stay
For another day.
I think
That they
Are the same as those
I saw before,
Although I can not say
For sure
Whether it be so.
I suppose
That both I and they
Will see the rain’s tears
In future years,
But this I can not say
For sure.
Geranium
On Good Friday I gave to you
A geranium in a pot.
We agreed on the need for air.
I know not
Whether you are showing care
To that token
Which, although unspoken
You knew to be true.
And now you have your air
And I mine.
I remember you
On my sofa blue.
No line
Was crossed.
The cost
Was a cheap
Priceless geranium in a pot
You may or may not, keep.
There Was A Young Man Named Heart
There was a young man named Heart
Who knew nothing at all about art.
When he stole a painting
It led to no fainting,
As it really wasn’t art!
Red Lights
Red lights
Bring delight
For a moment,
On a street.
High-heeled feet.
Men are lost
In arms
They can not own,
Then, alone
Return home.
(This poem was inspired by Lorraine’s “Red Lights”, https://blindwilderness.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/red-lights/).
I Met A Young Lady Named Rose
I met a young lady named Rose
Who last night stole all of my clothes.
I was composing a rhyme to my love
When, great heavens above,
Rose she stole all of my clothes!
K Morris - Poet 