Yesterday, in the early morning,
I heard you speak.
Just your bleak
Cry and I,
Ere the light was dawning.
I think on Macbeth
And the impending death
Of another year.
A bird, often unheard,
But forever here.
Bird
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
A Poem for November 5th (Bonfire Night)
In honour of bonfire or Guy Fawkes Night, I am reproducing below my poem “Catherine Wheel”, which can be found in “The Selected Poems of K Morris”:
Catherine Wheel
Sometimes I feel
Like a Catherine wheel;
My words as sparks,
Lighting the dark.
But who in December
Remembers
The fifth of November?
—
“The Selected Poems of K Morris” is available as a Kindle download or in paperback from Amazon, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WW8WXPP/ and https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.
Pat’s Bat
When a young man named Pat
Threatened me with a large bat
I said, “put down that mammal
Or I shall loose my camel!”.
So pat put down that bat!
Unreal City
Eliot spoke of an “unreal city”.
I could, perhaps, say something witty.
But, in this great city
A second lockdown starts today,
So there is nothing witty
I can say.
Read “The Wasteland”
For Eliot’s command
Of language surpasses mine.
‘Tis a bitter wine,
But, does, perhaps convey
What I wish to say.
A Young Lady With Morals Most Loose
A young lady with morals most loose
Likes to ride around on a goose.
My friend calls her Clair,
And the vicar Miss Flair.
And sometimes I ride on her goose!
When A Young Lady Named Miss Heather
When a young lady named Miss Heather
Said, “I don’t like this cold weather”.
A most wicked man called Ted
Said, “its warm in my bed”.
But I don’t know whether Miss Heather …
A Need to Confess
A young lady wearing a short dress
Said, “I’ve many a sin to confess!”.
I said, “my dear Miss Lou
That is a matter for you.
But don’t mention you, me and Bess!”.
An Old Poet Playing on The Flute
An old poet playing on the flute
Said, as he pulled on his boot,
“That pretty Miss Glover
Makes a good lover.
But she has stolen my other boot!”.
Hairband
You removed your hairband.
Not at my command.
But you knew my desire.
A play with fire.
Trapped, in a rhyme
Of youth, and Father Time.
When My Friend, Whose Name is Ted
When my friend, whose name is Ted
Found a girl asleep in his bed
He said, to his wife,
“Please, put down that knife!”.
Now Ted is hiding under my bed!
K Morris - Poet 