I can try
To immortalise my clock
In a rhyme.
And, when I stop
My rhyme
May still engage
On fading page,
Though I
Shall know it not.
I Can Try
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Monthly Archives: December 2022
The Christmas Goose
There once was a very clever goose
Who, at Christmas decided to break loose.
As he flew from the farmyard
He said, “this life is hard,
As the farmer he has no goose!”.
Happy Christmas
At this time of year, I am reminded of Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Oxen” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83cHvz5u39s
Hardy recollects “elders” talking about the oxen kneeling on Christmas Eve to worship Christ. He then goes on to say that few would now believe such things, but ends by saying that where he to be asked to go and see the animals kneeling he would go “hoping it might be so”.
As an agnostic (or, perhaps a cowardly atheist), I share Hardy’s view. I to would go to see the oxen kneel “hoping it might be so.”
A very happy Christmas to all of my readers. May your Christmas be full of warmth and happiness.
Kevin
My Fling with Ling
I once had a very quick fling
With a young lady named Miss Ling.
Her friend Miss Bland
Lost a new hairband,
And me and Ling broke a bedspring!
A Young Man Who Sat Drinking Hock
A young man who sat drinking Hock
Attached a sock to his Grandfather’s clock.
His lover Miss Hocking
Removed a silk stocking,
And the vicar he said, “tick tock!”.
As I Strolled Down a Very Dark Alley
As I strolled down a very dark alley
I met with a young lady named Sally.
I said to sergeant White,
“There is no moon tonight
And I was just discussing astronomy with Sally …!”.
Stilletos Leave Marks
Stilettos leave marks
In gentlemen’s hearts.
Or perchance
They dance
With fleeting pleasure
In summer weather,
Which leaves no marks
In lust filled hearts.
Blackpool Sand
I once had a one night stand
With a young lady on Blackpool sand.
When the tide came in
I wept for my sin,
And abandoned that girl on the sand …!
Chasing Squirrels
In the wood
My dog chased
A squirrel.
No thought of good
Or bad
Had he,
For he was free
Of morality.
In my mind
I often find,
Squirreled away
A thought
I ought
Not to think
Of play
With prey.
Eternity
When I trace
Time’s impassive face
I see eternity,
Vast, and empty,
Waiting for me.
K Morris - Poet 