I have seen this same old log
Over many years
As I passed by with my dogs.
Years have flown.
I have walked alone
When my dogs have died.
Now I pass by
With another one.
Time moves forever on.
All logs decay.
I know one day
Dogs and I
Will not pass by.
But autumn leaves
Are beautiful to me.
When a young lady known as Claire
Said, “these autumn trees are so bare”.
They said to her, “dear,
Its that time of year.
And do put some clothes on Claire!”
A young lady drunk on Hock
Walked around wearing only 1 sock.
When they said, “you’re nude!,
Which is so very rude!”
She said, “I’m wearing a sock!”
When a young lady wearing only a hat
Went and invited me back to her flat,
And I said, “Rose!
Where are your clothes!”,
She said, “You’re silly! They’re at my flat!”
A patch of sunlight on the hall floor.
I close the living room door
And the light is seen no more.
I know the night kills the light
And the ferryman waits to take
Me to the final gate
Where there is no Cerberus
To prevent our escape.
Just what was us
And implacable fate.
I am marrying a young lady named Kate
Who will inherit all of my literary estate.
She says, “writers have money”,
Which I find really funny –
As she’ll inherit all of my literary estate …
The last
Of the summer grass
Is mown.
The future is unknown.
The past
May be a guide.
But we decide
What seed is sown.
But does grass
In the mower’s grasp
Feel itself free …
Caught up in thoughts of work
I heard a bird sing.
I have been touched by beauty
And knowledge of my mortality.
He flies free
While I feel the futility
Of my work
When he sings.
When a young lady named Jacinta
Went and trod on a splinter,
She hopped all around
And said something profound.
And then she cursed that splinter!
The wind is fresh
Carrying the scents of life and death.
While from a tree
The autumn leaves are falling on me.
I lose myself in rhymes
Of passing time
And others who once stood
In autumn’s wood.
My friend collects acorns from leaf-strewn lawns
Hoping that Oaks may grow.
Others may see the fully grown tree.
While we will not know.
K Morris - Poet 