All smells fresh after rain.
The scent of wet earth
Speaks of rebirth.
But excess heat
Will defeat the rain.
These dead leaves
Hang
Or fall
And I recall
Autumn is yet to come.
All Smells Fresh After Rain
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Tag Archives: upper norwood poets
Changing Seasons
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
Imprint
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
Miss Heart
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
Dave in a Grave
When I found a young man named Dave
Lying in a freshly dug grave,
And I said, “are you dead?”,
He said, “No! I am ted!”
I said, “No, you are most definitely Dave!”
Postmodernism
Let us deconstruct all things
In this Postmodernist day.
All our elusions must fall
Away
And everything be analysed
Until our eyes
Can no longer see
Beyond this reductionist
Ideology
After the Rol Play (Fiction)
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
Early Morning
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
Consumer
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
Thoughts on a Thunder Storm
The thunder came
In the early morning.
I heard the heavy rain
And saw the lightning
Flash across the summer sky.
Alone at home
I thought of the old gods
Who will remain
When man can no longer see
The lightning
Nor hear Thor
Laugh
For he knows
Civilisations rise and fall
And men are fragile
As glass
In shop windows
Lighted at night
To display
What we know
Must pass away.
K Morris - Poet 