Edward A. Morris Poems

Of all the critters men have cursed,
The hateful hairy tick is worst.
His charm conceals a crudest quest
To snag you in his noxious nest.
...

In Plato's cave the poppies grow
Enchantingly, it seems:
A soothing, soporific show
Of mesmerizing dreams.
...

Whose words these are I think I know.
His workshop is a nuthouse though;
He will not like my chortling sneer
That mocks his composition so.
...

He walked out in the dark one day
To see a million stars,
The vastness of the Milky Way,
The luminance of Mars.
...

Though of two minds he played it cool,
True to the sacred feline rule,
Convinced he could not be a crime,
Both cat and carcass at one time,
...

So sophic, so subtle, so sensual, so strong,
He gleamed in God's garments so fair.
To the virginal mother he sang his sweet song
With her family happily there.
...

The road may lead a thousand miles.
It seems absurd; it's not my style.
But there's one way to best a trial:
Before you run, you first must crawl.
...