There was an elderly poet called Lott
Who long ago had lost the plot.
He wrote copious amounts of verse,
Which grew worse and worse,
Although Lott knew it not!
Monthly Archives: January 2017
There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who caused quite a to-do,
When she lost her gown,
In the middle of town.
The crowd it grew and grew!
There Was A Young Lady Called Tia
There was a young lady called Tia
Who lived in constant fear
Of what walked behind,
For she knew in her mind,
‘Twas the devil who lurked in the rear …!
Dreams
Mad cap schemes.
Heels,
Slippery as eels.
They wheel
And deal
And no not what is real,
But in sober moments,
When the lights go out
And the party goers shout
Is no longer heard,
They see the fact of the matter,
– Broken dreams can not shatter
There Was A Young Man Called Tony
There was a young man called Tony
Who went shopping to purchase a pony.
The girl in the bakery said,
“we sell only bread,
And my favourite name it is Tony!”
My Old Clock I wind
Many thanks to Morgen Bailey for publishing my poem, “My Old Clock I wind” on her blog. For the poem please visit here, https://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/2017/01/16/post-weekend-poetry-139-my-old-clock-i-wind-by-kevin-morris/.
Guest post; Ethereal
Many thanks to Roberta for publishing my poem, “Ethereal” as a guest post. Kevin
There Was A Young Man Called Drew
There was a young man named Drew
Who owned a pet kangaroo.
They lived in a house,
Along with his spouse,
Believe me, its perfectly true!
An Elderly Writer Sat Alone In His Garret
An elderly writer, sat alone in his garret
Dreaming of champagne and claret.
He said, to himself,
I have little wealth
And my only companion is this parrot!
Guest author: Jeff B. Grant
A very interesting post by a close friend who I have known for many years.

I read quite a log of blogs. I regard Sue Vincent’s as up among the very best – both in the subjects she deals with and in the quality of her own writing. So to have been offered a small part in it like this is very rewarding. Thank you, Sue. It’s the first guest post I’ve ever done, so I’m not at all sure what’s going to emerge. I’ll just put virtual pen to virtual paper and see.
When I was about ten, I confided in a boy at school that, “When I grow up, I’m going to write.” “Ugh!” he replied, pulling a face. “Why d’you want to do that? Writing’s just so boring!” But like many embryonic writers I’d been scribbling things down as far back as I could remember even in those early days. A year or two prior to that, I’d taken to…
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