When a young lady whose name is Claire
Said, “my friend you should take very great care,
As there are lots of beautiful young women
Who are into nothing but decadence and sinning”,
I replied, “where can I find them, Claire?”
In the fog of liquor
Desire grows
And the heart beats quicker.
‘Tis bliss
To kiss
But the wise one knows
That those
Soft lips
At which he sips
Are as fleeting as the rose
Which in summer grows.
So we let go
In lust
While the dust
Under the bed
Is dead
Skin, and the summer rose
Grows brown
And each petal
Does settle
On the ground
And becomes as one
With flowers long since gone.
My dear friend, whose name is Miss Kind
Said, “those silk ropes, they tightly do bind,
But its totally consensual
And really quite commonsensical,
As you help me, my friend, to unwind . . .
A young man named Gus
Created a most terrible fuss
When his girlfriend Pearl
Gave me a twirl,
On the number 7 bus!
In his bedroom
Perfume hangs
In the air.
She dreams not of he,
But of sea
And the cost
Of a trip from Lesbos
I swear
That she
Was not my type,
Yet that night
Something other than empathy
Did stir
In me.
Maybe ’twas merely
Her body’s scent . . .
I thought her vulgar,
A judgement perhaps unfair,
But something other than empathy
Did stir
In me
That night,
Although I swear
That she
Was not my type.
An animal attraction maybe
To her,
But something other than empathy
Did stir
In me
That night,
Although I swear
That she
Was not my type.
My friend whose name is Moria
Has married the local squire.
He sleeps all day
And the people say,
That the squire’s a vampire!
—
A young lady whose name is Moria
Said, “of your poetry I shall never tire.
But oh my sweet honey,
As you have no money,
I shall have to marry the local squire!”.
The man with the mop
Waits in the wings
But we do not
Speak of such things.
Tiredness brings us to a stop,
And the man with the mop
Waits, unseen
In the wings
Ready to clean.
But we must
Not speak of dust
Or other such things,
But the man with the mop,
He waits in the wings.
After lots of excuses to myself, I have determined to finally sit down and draw together a Selected Poems. Those of you who follow this blog, will know that I have previously mentioned my intention to do this, however, excuses are now at an end and I shall be noticeable by my absence as I work on this project.
To be frank, I enjoy writing which does, on the whole come easily to me. In contrast pulling together a poetry collection and/or selection is a chore, (albeit a pleasant one), hence me not having begun work on it as yet.
Incidentally, if anyone has experience of producing a Selected Poems, I would be interested in hearing from them. My understanding from Amazon is that a poet may produce a Selected Poems and that will not be construed as a duplication of their existing work. Again, if any of my reader’s understanding differs from that outlined above, do, please let me know either by commenting on this post or, alternatively via email to kmorris poet (at) gmail dot com). Please note, the address is rendered thus in an attempt to defeat spammers!
Kevin
K Morris - Poet 