You left your shoes under my bed.
I discovered them there
Where they hid.
You said
To keep them for you.
So I could not be rid
Of your high heel shoe.
I remember you
Taking off your shoe
And the game we two
Did play
Many a day
Ago.
No,
You never did reclaim those shoes
We did lose
That day
And eventually, I threw them away.
If Jack and Jill
Went up a hill
Today
What would people say?
Is the hill
A metaphor
For the stair
Where
Jack and Jill …
Or nothing more
Than a plain, old hill?
Did Jill
Push Jack
Down that Hill?
And did he,
Fighting back
Bring that she
(Known as Jill)
Tumbling,
Their hands fumbling,
Down that Hill?
Should the Old Bill
Investigate?
Perhaps a date
Went wrong? But no, tis a crime
To spoil a children’s nursery rhyme!
“Oh maiden chaste
Why do you haste
To yonder well?
I have heard tell
That a girl there fell.
Come with me instead
And admire
This bed
Of sweetbriar.
Dear Bess
That dress is too tight.
Come feel the delight
Of night
Air
On skin bare”.
“Sir
Having water to get
I truly regret
That I
Have no time to lie
In sweetbriar,
Though, where the ground not wet
I would fulfill your desire …”.
To fulfil
My need
To feed
I eat the orange that will
Not seed
And throw the pips away.
But stay,
Is it need
Or greed
That causes me to feed?
A place
Of quietude
Where few intrude.
Yet a trace
Of perfume
Has been known
To linger in the room,
On the lone
Sheet,
Where strangers rarely meet
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
I said, with a smile
“Will you stay there a while”,
But she left for my biscuit tin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
Being rather witty
And extremely pretty
She led me into sin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
When I said, “are you okay?”
She replied “I like it this way”,
That strange young lady called Lin!
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in my wastepaper bin.
She made her escape
In a bright red cape
As its better out than in!
To and fro
Through the churchyard I go
One day I know
That it will not be so.
Why should I care?
For I will not be there
To know.
There was a young poet called Mo
Who’s work I happen to know.
His poems where so bad
That they drove me quite mad,
So I buried Mo in the snow!
We do what we shouldn’t.
I wouldn’t
Enquire
Into another’s desire
For when the wine flows
The staid
Maid
Shows …
When the day is warm
Bees to flowers swarm,
Birds sing
And the sting
Seems far away.
They say
That the hangover cure
Is the hair of the dog.
Good god
Are they sure!?
In the churchyard today
Through the play
Of light and shade
I my shadow made.
When I go away
Will my shadow stay
Behind for people to see
And say
“That was he
And now midst light and shade
His shadow is forever made”.
K Morris - Poet 