A sceptic stood on the river bank.
“Jump in
And swim”,
They called to him,
Showing off their strokes.
Having seen it all before
He remained on the bank,
And shrugged as the swimmers sank.
The Sceptic
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Tag Archives: poets
Afternoons Long Ago
Afternoons lazing.
No trail blazing.
Desultory chatter.
Dreams shatter.
An invitation.
A pale imitation of love.
You were mine to choose.
I chose to lose.
To lose what? My heart?
Best stick to art,
For if I start
I may impart
Too much.
For Dutch courage has led many a man to say
More than he meant to say.
The street
Where we did meet
Was a cul-de-sac.
Perhaps you yearned,
(We could have turned
Back).
Was it need,
Greed
Or something other
That led you to become a kind of lover?
There Was A Young Man Named Nick
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He danced about
And made great shout,
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He raised it high
Unto the sky
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
When it failed to rain
He didn’t complain
But bought another stick!
Lost Track
My dog slumbers
Inocent as the day he came
Into this world
And will leave it the same.
I have long lost track of numbers.
Commercial Break
If we stripped away the advertising hoardings
And quelled the glitzy TV commercials,
Those recordings
Of sexy girls telling you and I
What we ought to buy,
Would we cease going around in ever decreasing circles
And gaze awestruck at the great sky?
Perhaps it would be as above
And love
Of higher things would reign,
But then again
There is the stain
Which caused God to expel
Lucifer to hell
There Was A Young Lady Named Alice
There was a young lady named Alice
Who lived in Crystal Palace.
She broke the law
At halfpast four
And ran away to Dallas!
Memory
Our memory is like a garden, where we spend many hours
Watering fragrant flowers.
Yet sometimes we succeed
In fertilising a weed.
Indeed
We take a perverse delight in watching it grow
Much though
We deny that it is so!
Let not the weed
Seed
Say I,
But learn from it, then let it die,
For if it’s growth you do not control
It will succeed
And choke your soul.
There Was A Young Man From Mauritius
There was a young man from Mauritius
Who thought all things delicious.
He ate some chalk
And a plastic fawk,
The effect was rather pernicious!
Dreams
I dreamed and in my dream cups broke
And matters where confused.
When I awoke
I smiled an amused
Smile.
For I can not resile
From the view
That dreams oft times represent what is true,
Or at least what may be so
Unless a man say “whoa!”.
When The Blood Is Warm
When the blood
Is warm
We go with the flood
And think not of the swarm
That may hide
Inside.
For in the midst of pleasure’s sigh
We think not that we may die.
K Morris - Poet 