The poet lays bare his soul
For the whole
World to see.
So who would a poet be?
Or perchance he hides in clever rhyme
How he does spend his time.
For ‘Tis no crime
To obfuscate a line.
Readers shake their heads.
The poet dreads
Lest they discover
What lies behind the cover …
The sea roars
Flooding barren shores
Then slowly withdraws
Leaving the sand to dry
And gull’s to cry
In the darkening sky
Birds sing
Yet spring
Is far away.
The day
Is cold.
I think of arms that enfold
And do not hold.
The gold
Coin doth spin
And what some call sin
Enters in.
I think of a girl’s scent
Of those who do, and then repent.
I dwell on heaven
O how close ‘tis to hell!
And think it well
To leave the stone
Alone.
Why this desire
To know the secret fire
That in man does burn
And how he doth turn
Away
From the light of day.
He will go his way
Whate’r the moralists say.
The retro
Must go.
A version of the past
Is sold off fast.
Perhaps I will take a look.
Perchance happen upon an old book.
I meant to visit before
But now the door
Will soon close
On retro clothes.
People are interested in the old ways.
The days
When all was right, or seemed so.
The stock must go
For a song.
Before long
Another business will take the shop’s place.
The bland corporate face
Will occupy another space.
We race
Knowing not where we are going
Or what we may be sewing.
Without a feel for the past
The future beccons, bleak and vast.
She stood for hours
Selling her flowers
By Grim towers.
Their scent
Was long since spent.
Their bloom
Was gone to soon.
But still some bought.
Sometimes she thought
Of the bee that does take
And then forsake
The budding rose
Then goes
On to devour
Another flower.
Hour after hour
She saw the power
Of beautiful flowers.
The bees their sweet nectar took
And she was struck
By how the rose does decay
And the bee will have his way.
The snow came yesterday.
Ere long it went away.
The landscape it whitened overnight.
O such passing delight!
The wood is dark.
The lark
Does not sing.
Will spring
Come once more
And restore
The sleeping rose?
Who knows
But one can grope
For hope
In the frozen ground
And pray for a change profound.
I was delighted to receive the below 5 star review of my collection of poems, “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”,
“This is the third book of poetry I have reviewed by this author, so my expectations were rather high. I did a full reading to get the overall feel for
the poems and the book. This is very much an autumn, winter book of poetry; the time of year when the landscape appears to die leaving one melancholy and
introspective about life in general. But this is not to say that there aren’t some humorous poems. In fact, the poems in this volume seem to cover the
full spectrum of life. And there is one thing which I realized upon my first reading, is that these poems were a pleasure to read aloud like all good poetry
should be. The phrasing allowed the words to roll off the tongue in contentment. One thing I would ask of the reader is to go to the last section of the
book, ‘Why I Write Poetry’ and read this before you start reading the poems themselves. It is my opinion that it will greatly enhance your reading of these
poems and poetry in general. A few of my favorites are, “The Path Through the Woods, The Lost Muse, December, Modernity, Swan, Paris Attacks, and Hurricane”,
to name a few. I highly recommend this volume of poetry by K.Morris”.
For the review please visit http://www.amazon.com/review/R2CWNSOVWULALC/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B01AF5EPVY. To purchase “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind” please go to http://www.amazon.com/Lost-labyrinth-my-mind-Morris-ebook/dp/B01AF5EPVY/ref=cm_rdp_product.
Thank you to the reviewer for taking the time to read and review “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”.
A moving poem by the late Felix Dennis, who died of cancer, http://www.felixdennis.com/Poet/I-plucked-all-the-cherries.aspx
All this will cease.
Then eternal peace
Will forever flow
Washing away woe.
K Morris - Poet 