A glamorous bra
To show who you are.
Sharp pointy heels
to seal your deals.
A short red dress
your legs impress.
Your shapely bust
ingenders lust.
While your long blonde hair
Does men ensnare.
“Girl do you possess the art
To reveal your heart?”
Pandora’s box is deep.
Her mother would weep
Where she to spy
The secrets that within it lie.
Curiosity killed the cat:
His hat
that room.
The moon
still shonne
And the night continued on
You wow them in the saloon bar
Surely my friend you will go far.
You link
with those who drink
and refuse to think.
The pub goers applaud.
There can be no discord,
We must be protected from the unwashed horde.
A few wise old owls dissent
It’s a big tent
There must be room for dissent.
But the customers hear what they want to hear.
The regulars cheer
Never fear
Your friends are here.
An ad.
Perhaps a little sad.
A girl replies.
Those empty eyes.
An inspector sighs …
Why do you ask
If I wear a mask?
Do you suppose my expression benign
Conceals some hideous crime?
Look in the glass
And rather ask
About your own mask.
Put away the stones
For bones
Are brittle
And friend’s opinions fickle
As the witches in Macbeth
Who promise much, then leave him bereft.
A checkout girl young and sweet
The thought of refugees almost makes me weep.
She speaks of her car
I ponder on those who have travelled far.
She is at university
While others face adversity.
A kind hearted girl
Do thoughts whirl
Through her head
Of the suffering and the dead?
Just an ordinary morning shopping,
Nothing shocking.
The bird he speaks to me of wasted time
of how I labour inside when the weather is fine.
The dog rolls on his back, paws in the air
For my writing he does not care.
The sky it darkens in the west.
I cease my toil, that is best.
Beautiful mountains, their peaks pointing to the sky.
I would die
for the chance to climb
That track sublime.
Would that I could sally
Into the verdant valley
That nessles between
Those hills green.
Oh to drink from the life giving stream,
Which does flow
Where few may go.
I can but dream.
West and away the wheels of darkness roll,
Day’s beamy banner up the east is borne,
Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,
Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.
But over sea and continent from sight
Safe to the Indies has the earth conveyed
The vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,
Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.
See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,
The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.
‘Tis silent, and the subterranean dark
Has crossed the nadir, and begins to climb.
A weak sun.
Day is almost done.
We have had our fun.
Soon the dark will come.
K Morris - Poet 