I met a young lady named White
Who offered me delight for the night.
She was a girrl of fashin
And showed great compassion
By giving me a discount last night …
Monthly Archives: January 2025
Distract From Thought
Distracted from thought
I heard birds sing
As I walked
The path were all thought ends
And Enemies and friends
Lie under the same unending sky,
As will I.
Life After Death
There once was a young lady named Beth
Who said, “there is no life after death!”.
A ghoul called Nool
Called her a fool
Which frightened that poor young lady to death!
Maddy’s Sugar Daddy
I know a young lady named Maddy
Who is dating a rich sugar daddy.
I hear from Miss Heather
He’s neither witty nor clever.
But he’s rich and he’s dating Maddy!
Tight Leather
I met a young lady in tight leather
Who said, “my name it is Heather.
I go out on the town
All my sorrows to drown,
But pass out through wearing tight leather!”
Temporary
On my way home
I passed by street lights
On a winter’s night
And thought of glorious Rome
As their temporary sparks
Held back the dark.
When a Young Lady Who Works in Vice
When a young lady who works in vice
Went and slipped on some treacherous black ice,
And a vicar called Paul
Said, “I’ve seen many fall!”,
She said, “help me up off this ice!”.
Shocking
I know a young lady named Hocking
Whose life is blameless not shocking.
Her friend Miss Coral
Is so very moral
And this poem is boring not shocking!
Tears, Idle Tears by Alfred Lord Tennison
Recently I enjoyed a meal with my friend Jeff, during which he quoted from Tennyson’s beautiful poem, “Tears, Idle Tears”. The poem resonates with me and is reproduced below:
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken’d birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign’d
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.”
Now I Am Tired
Now I am tired
And think on love and lust.
All that is desired
Must end in naught but dust.