There was a young lady called Chauntele
Who I knew more than well.
Of an evening late
We met at her gate
Strawberries for to sell.
There was a young lady called Chauntele
Who I knew more than well.
Of an evening late
We met at her gate,
But I promised not to tell …
It is summer yet
The leaves can still be found
Strewing the ground.
Shall I regret
The gray hair
Where
There remains no trace of brown?
The longest day of the year
Will soon be here
Ere Autumn throws
Her clothes
All haphazard down.
I shall in beauty drown
For our little moon
Is gone too soon
While nature’s store
Remains as before.
Some men do not require
A doll to speak,
Tis their desire
That she be meek.
Some men prefer plastic
Paid for in store
And with morals elastic
They paw
And want more.
Dolls play
Then go their way.
But men can find
more
Of their kind
In store
To temporarily bind.
Dolls may rue
Though tis true
That men do so too
For many have found
A truth profound,
That they are to the wheel
Of pleasure bound
And with each deal
With each mechanical removal of a dress
They feel
Less and less.
My shirt blows
In the morning air.
My thought goes
To where
Girls with long tresses
In summer dresses
Display
The bare.
Lad and lass
Will pass
Away,
But I have all this today.
A young lady whose morals were loose
Did the local vicar seduce.
His bishop, named Dave
Looked very grave
And his wife, she turned quite puce!
When the night
Is fine
And women and wine
Delight
Who will say
What is wrong or right?
A gift by way
Of an inducement to stay,
Who will say
What is wrong or right?
At night
When he
Seeks comfort in she
Is it wrong or right?
Commerce pervades the night.
Twas always that way.
Some say
‘Tis wrong, and others right.
While the wise leave well alone
For he who is without sin
Should cast the first stone …
A friend has drawn the below event to my attention:
“Great Minds Think Different – Celebrating neurodiverse creativity
Come along to an evening of poetry, live music and art celebrating neurodiversity!
Exceptional Individuals in association with Crouch End Arts Festival are hosting an evening of entertainment at the Tap Room at the Harringay Arms on Saturday 16th June, 7 – 9pm.
It will feature performances and exhibits from neurodiverse poets, singers and artists.
Drinks available to buy at the bar.
Exceptional Individuals is an organisation that supports people with dyslexia, dyspraxia, autism, ADHD and other forms of neurodiversity into employment, and helps them to thrive. (https://www.exceptionalindividuals.com/”).
For the event’s webpage please visit https://www.crouchendfestival.org/events/great-minds-think-different-celebrating-neurodiverse-creativity/
“So many have I seen
Reflected in my blank screen.
My all seeing eye
Can not lie.
I see the face
Of every race
And class
Reflected in my empty glass
And how girls hide
The signs,
The lines
Of age.
Though with what lies inside
I can not engage”.
There was a young lady called Beth
Who refused to dance with Death.
But come close of day
He had his way
And Beth she waltzed with Death
I know a young lady called Lin
Who plays my violin.
At night she plays
And the vicar says
That tis a most terrible sin.
K Morris - Poet 