I,
know that ’tis easy, when alone
To pick up the telephone,
Or to click on the internet,
And buy,
Regret.
Regret
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: verse
I Think Of You Without Shoe Or Sock
I think of you
Without shoe
Or sock,
But passion’s knock
Will never be heard
So I shall cease this empty word
Play and do something useful with my day.
But, when in the land
Of sleep,
You may creep
Into my head, for I can not command
The shadows of dreamland
Where passion unlocks
And girls lose
Their shoes
And socks …
The Cup Which Touched Your Lips
The cup which
Touched your lips
Is chipped.
I know
It wasn’t so
When you took
The cup
To your lips.
We both drank tea.
But I did sup
From a separate cup
To thee.
For The Walk Never Taken
For the walk that was never taken,
For the talk that was never talked,
For the ball never played,
For the one who stayed
Alone,
At home
Forsaken,
Who was to blame?
Love is a game
To some
And perhaps it matters not
For the sun
Is still hot
And the sky does remain
Suspended above
This game
Of love.
Her Training
She takes off her t-shirt.
The trainers go,
And her legs also
She does show.
No flirt,
Just a messed up girl who
Loses sock and shoe
In order to train.
She Kept Her Heels On
She kept
Her heels on
At his request.
They dallied.
She tallied,
Then was gone.
Noone wept.
Goddess
I saw
A goddess in a store.
I chaffed.
She laughed.
There was no more.
As the weather grows hot
As the weather grows
Hot, pretty women in short clothes
Will cause
Men to pause
And their eyes to almost pop
Out of their heads, and wish
That they could catch
That particular fish,
For they have an itch
To scratch.
And perhaps a match
May spark
Ingendering love or lust
In the human heart,
Ere the dust
Takes away
Our sunny day.
The Wind Did Pass
The wind did pass
Through the grass
Where the lovers true
Walked and talked.
He helped her over the stile,
Which won for him a smile.
While the sun shone on,
And the wind continued to pass,
Though lad and lass
Had entered the field
Where the grain does yield
To the fickle sickle,
And is gone.
Forgot
November or December,
I remember
Not.
The carpet rough on skins.
Some sins
I have forgot.
K Morris - Poet 