When I went to a swingers bar
With a girl who calls herself Marr
A police constable named Flair
Danced nude on a chair –
But you should have seen Miss Marr …!
Swinging
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Monthly Archives: March 2024
Poet Kevin Morris’s Poem “I Am Tired” on Dodo Modern Poets
I am pleased to let you know that my poem “I am Tired” has been included in the latest episode of Dodo Modern Poets. To listen to “I am Tired” and the other poet’s work, please visit https://dodomodernvidpoets2022.blogspot.com/.
I listened using Google Chrome. (For some reason none of the poems would play for me using Microsoft’s Edge browser. If you do get Edge to work for you, please do let me know)!
Melancholy Polly
There was a young lady named Polly
Who was known for her love of melancholy.
Her verse was so sad
It drove us all mad
So we exiled that girl to a folly
Slippers and Kippers
There once was a young lady in slippers
Who was famous for her custard and kippers.
Her food was real nice
But that girl’s only vice
Was serving kippers whilst dressed in just slippers …!
Impermanence
Sometimes I dwell on the impermanence of things.
In early spring the birds sing.
And I pass by grass green from rain.
But the grass will not stay.
The mower will come in sun or rain
And make sweet hay.
But the hay will rot away.
Rain will return again
And I will pass by grass
Lush from the rain
Until I am as the hay.
Hatch Who Was Fond of a Scratch
There once was a writer named Hatch
Who was fond of having a scratch.
He liked to write
With his dog White
Whose fleas would cause Hatch to scratch!
Alarm
The alarm warns me
That my tea
Is ready for me
In the microwave.
There is nothing profound
In It’s sound
Which will not save
Me from the grave
Where no bird
Is ever heard
And worms make tea
Of you and me.
Lust
Lonely men
Engage in deals
With women in heels
Who dance through dust.
And the dance,
As all dances must
Ends in dust.
But, perchance
Some men dance
For fear of dust.
Phlegmatic Matt
There was a phlegmatic young man named Matt
Who was fond of stroking his cat.
When a ghoul appeared
And most wickedly sneered,
He said, “its always a pleasure to chat”.
A Walk in the Rain
As I pass by
These churchyard trees
In the spring rain,
I know I
Must one day die
And these trees outlast me.
But the rain will remain
When they and me
Are one in eternity.
K Morris - Poet 