The temperature has dropped.
The pendulum chops
Second upon second away.
As I write.
I think
On how we did drink
And at lovers play
That night
In the warm pub.
Oh how I would,,
That ’twere yesterday.
The poet’s muse
Wears down at heel shoes
And sleeps
And weeps.
Yet, in his poem she is beauty personified
Who never cries.
And when she and the poet dies
She may live on
Through future ages,
Preserved midst the pages
Of some book.
Though she be gone
Readers will look
And see a perfect view
Where no muddy shoe
Was ever worn
And no heart
Was ever torn.
Or perhaps his art
Will be true
To his readers
And to his muse
In her muddy shoes.
A bangle
Given to me
By thee
Over wine
Did mine
Heart entangle
With thine.
Now I carry with me
Something of thee,
For a girl’s bangle
Does entangle
Thine heart
With mine.
Dusk must come,
And the setting sun
Mark Time
For rhyme.
Me reading my poem ‘Under the Stars’ on Soundcloud.
I have uploaded ‘Autumn Breeze’ and ‘The Dark’ to my Soundcloud page.
I spend much of my time
Composing in rhyme,
But do not therefore curse
Free verse,
For sometimes that shoe
Will do
Very well,
While to force a rhyme
(where no rhyme should be)
Is to mangle poetry.
As I lay in my bath soaking.
I felt a most painful poking,
Which caused me to glare
At a comedian named Claire,
Who maintains she was only joking!
‘Tis the quiet time
Before the sun
Does come.
I shall rhyme
Ere the day is done
And I become,
As one with the setting sun
When a young man named Slattery
Came up in court for battery,
A judge called Trish
Said, “as this concerned a fish,
I dismiss this case for battery”!.
K Morris - Poet 