These autumn leaves
Remind me
Of my mortality.
Winter’s knife
Chops down life.
And trees
In spring bring
Forth leaves
And I recall
We all
Are of earth
And turf.
Earth
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Tag Archives: Rhyme
She says, “Soon I Will Stop This”
She says, “soon I will stop this”.
“Why do I engage
With a girl only half my age?.
Must I forever kiss
Lips which yearn to turn from me?
I am no devil
And perhaps at a certain level
She likes me.
In her deep sleep I see
Her in her vulnerability
And find the tenderness in me.
There is no true bliss
In her reluctant kiss.
But gold may hold sway
Tomorrow as with today.”
The Importance of Humour
A young lady who works as a perfumer
Said, “you have absolutely no sense of humour!”.
As I stamped on her toes
I said, “my dear Miss Rose,
Don’t you wish you had met me sooner!”.
A Girl’s Lost Clothes
A young lady wearing only her bra
Came to drink in my favourite bar.
She said her heels
Got stolen by seals
And her dress was in my car!
There Once Was an Old Man Named Hogg
There once was an old man named Hogg
Who said, “I’ve been flogged by a dog!”.
They said to him, “sir,
You should take more care!
And you really should stay off that grog!”.
Getting the Blame
When a young lady whose known as Nat
Went and left her perfume in my flat,
My sweet girlfriend Leigh
Began to berate me!
But it wasn’t me, it was that Nat!
Old
In my frayed old dressing gown I found
A broken hairband.
I know not where
I met her.
Names I forget.
But this broken hairband commands reflection and regret
For her and all those before.
And others, if there are more
I Could Stop
I could stop
This clock
Once and for all.
Lonely and bored
I called
On Dowson’s rhyme
Of women and wine.
The cork popped
You poured.
And Time’s scythe chopped
Another day away
In play.
A Warm Bed for the Night
A warm bed for the night
Gives some respite
From the indifferent street, where feet
Sound on lonely stone.
She sleeps in sheets.
Her brief respite
After his delight.
Churchyard Tree
When a churchyard tree
Dripped rain on me
I thought that I ought
Not to swear
For the rain will remain
When that tree
And me are where
We will know no rain.
K Morris - Poet 