I heard sirens and birds
As I stood
In the darkening wood.
Later, when the sirens where gone
The birds sang on
As I passed through
The churchyard
Pondering on what is true
Sirens and Birds
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Tag Archives: upper norwood poets
Bare
“The trees are bare”, you said.
The sun shone
And our 2 dogs ran on
Unaware their autumn
Must come. And a gentle breeze
Blew through grasses.
When young lovers kiss amidst spring flowers
In their urgent need
They fail to heed
How our hours are fragile as glass.
Spring and summer pass.
We come to autumn
And the bare tree speaks of mortality.
Table Dancing
I know a young lady named Spink
Who is extremely fond of a drink.
Her and Miss Mabel
Dance on the table
When we gentlemen buy them a drink …
Worms
When I am gone
My poetry may live on.
And when I go
Others will know
Whether it is so.
While in the cold ground
There is nothing profound
For worms have no time
For fleeting rhyme.
But love to dine …
Into the Dark
The wind blew chill
In the darkening woods.
I heard an owl’s cry
And for a moment stood
As the daylight
Continued into night.
Sometimes, in Dreams
Sometimes, in dreams, it seems
To me
That what I feel and see
Is reality.
But, when I awake
I realise my mistake,
And partake in what we designate as reality.
Yet I may dream
And the solid things I feel and see
May merely seem to be
As Poe saw long ago
You Won’t Get to Heaven
When a moral old lady named Nevin
Said, “Kevin, you won’t get to heaven!”
A gorgeous young sinner called Bell
Said, “Its more fun in hell.
And Kevin, I’ll take you to heaven …!”
A Fine Chest
When a young lady wearing a vest
Said, “do you like my chest?”
I said, “its so good to touch.
Do tell me, are you Dutch?”
And I stroked that fine wooden chest!
Unresolved
As I sat reading poetry
A figure passed me.
I wonder, in future years
Will another, without fear
See pass by
A moving phantom, as did I?
Or did I see
Some future me
As I sat alone at home
Pondering on poetry?
The Autumn Rain is Falling
The autumn rain is falling,
I hear it on my window
It’s voice calling
To me of temporary
And permanent things.
I should go below
Leaving rhyme behind.
For I am not the wind
Nor the eternal rain.
And one day I must go
K Morris - Poet 