The weather is good
(According to some).
In the summer wood
Leaves long dead
Brush my greying head.
Autumn will come
And the heat cease.
Yet leaves fall
And I recall
Autumn is yet to come.
In my childhood
I collected conkers and acorns
From leaf-strewn lawns
Today there is little breeze
And the leaves
Fall from trees
Thirsting for drink
And I hope for rain.
It will come,
But what has been done
Can not be undone
He bought
Her smile
And thought
For a while
He had caught
Her heart.
But, at break of day
She slipped away
Leaving her imprint
In ink
I met a young lady named Heart
Who asked me to show her my art.
She was full of desire
And did greatly admire –
And then I showed her my art
There once was a poet named Cecil
Who went to sea in a vessel.
As the boat sank
He penned verses blank.
But they never found them or Cecil!
I have sat on bar stools
As fools
Pontificate in love and hate.
From on high, I
Have judged women and men
Thinking myself superior to them
Yet in the quiet
Of morning time
I rhyme
Of imperfect man
And I who am
As them.
We role played.
Afterwards you stayed
And spoke of your childhood
Which, on the whole, was good.
Then you told me
Of a family friend’s knee …
But now you are at university
And all that was long ago,
And besides, you do not know
Whether it was really so.
And of course you are free
To say “no”
To me
It happened years ago
And I have no responsibility
For what he may
Or may not have done.
Its just fun
To engage in role play.
No harm is done
Or so we say
Sitting in just
My boxer shorts
In the cool of a summer morning,
I think on is and ought.
I touch
My own skin.
And think how thin
Is the veil
That separates me
From the eternity
Of dust
A man in a sweet shop chooses
From a menu online.
The sweets are divine
The website says
So no-one loses.
The candy arrives
In pretty bows
And wrapping
Fragile as flowers.
He knows
How it goes:
The tapping of heels
Bring deals
Of sugar sweet
He can’t keep,
While the website
Offers fleeting delights
Of fresh flowers
He takes,
But his thirst
Remains unslaked
I sit here
Drinking beer
Alone at home
In this dying heatwave
Unable to forget
What I could not save.
As I drink
I think
Of girls who padded like cats
Around my bachelor’s flat
In their bare feet.
We drank wine
And, sometimes
I would find
A kind
Of comfort in a stranger’s arms.
A few left charms behind.
A hairband
I kept in a drawer,
Though I saw her no more.
I returned hair extensions.
There was no pretention
Of love.
Drinking my beer
I look back on half wasted years.
There where tears and laughter
But what comes after …
Perhaps I can find
A sort of tenderness
Tinged with regret.
I can not forget
And sometimes wonder
What they remember
Of me
I know a young lady named Marr
Who works in a very rough bar.
I like to drink there
With a tough guy called Blair,
And we’re all terrified of Marr!
K Morris - Poet 