There is a middle-aged lady called Ruth
Who lived a misspent youth.
She claims to know me
But, you see
She rarely tells the truth …
There Is A Middle-Aged Lady Called Ruth
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Author Archives: K Morris Poet
Why When?
Why when
Middle-aged men
See young women
Are they drawn to them?
Tis the fear
Of the Reaper, who draweth slowly near.
Tis a dread
Of being dead,
Of dust
That causes them
To satiate their lust
In thought and sometimes deed
For the seed
Lives on
After we are gone.
Desire
“Alergic to something?” I enquire.
“Yes”. Desire.
Thoughts whirl.
Not the same girl
But her voice
And the same half-inocent laughter.
And after
Comes the choice.
Is,
Ought.
I can not
Help my thought
On this hot
Day.
And she sniffs in that self-same way.
I Know A Young Lady Called Marr
I know a young lady called Marr
Who works in a gentleman’s bar.
One day, when the lights went out
I heard her shout,
“The bishop has my bra!”.
I know a young lady called Marr
Who works in a gentleman’s bar.
One day, when the lights went out
I heard her shout,
“Sir, you go too far!”.
They Didn’t Kiss Because
They didn’t kiss because
It was
The first night.
It didn’t seem right
And it was neither the time
Nor the place.
He couldn’t see her face
And being unsure
Whether he would see her more
He did capture
A passing rapture
In rhyme.
With Sincere Apologies To Edward Lear
The owl and the pussycat went to sea, in a leaky, cardboard boat.
They had lost all their money
To a girl called Honey
Along with a £5 note.
The owl looked up to the stars above
And sang to a small guitar
“Oh beautiful pussy, oh pussy my love
I wonder where we are?
We are? We are?
I wonder where we are?”
With a sorrowful sigh
The pussy made reply:
“Owl,
You are a stupid old fowl!
Make no mistake
We
Are not at sea
But on a lake!
Oh what a stupid old fowl you are
You are
You are!
Oh what a stupid old fowl you are!”.
So they sailed away
For a year and a day
To the land where the bong tree grows.
And there in a wood
A stoned student stood
Blowing smoke from the end of his nose
His nose
His nose.
Blowing smoke from the end of his nose.
“Dear student are you willing
To sell for one shilling
Your pot?” Said the student, “I will”.
So they took it away
And were arrested next day
By the policeman who lives on the hill …
(A shortened version of this poem originally appeared on Ester Chilton’s blog, https://esthernewtonblog.wordpress.com).
Why most books don’t sell much on Kindle
Matthew is absolutely correct that the Amazon Kindle store is swamped with books rendering it extremely difficult for authors to get discovered. I would add that readers also face problems in finding your books, (if you are J K Rowling everyone has heard of you, however if you happen to be one amongst the millions of Ms and Mr Smiths just how, exactly do you get noticed)?
There’s a new phenomenon out there for writers these days. It hasn’t got a name, but it’s there, and I suspect most of us have encountered it.
Click to buy…pleeeeeeaaasssee! (Whimper, whimper…)
You write a book. You decide to publish it yourself, spend a lot of money on cover artwork, proof-readers and so forth, and start revving up promotions on social media – blog, Twitter, various of the services and so on. It’s all carefully planned and designed to create a buzz. It takes hours of hard work.
Then the book’s released and – nothing.
A few sales trickle through. That’s it. After a while it’s sitting there at the two-millionth rank on the Amazon seller lists, and nothing you do seems to be able to shift it.
That happens to commercial publishers, too, who add Amazon Kindle to their ways of distributing and selling.
What’s going on is pretty…
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There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who stood in a pot of glue.
She said, with a sigh
“I don’t know why
I stood in this pot of glue!”.
There Was A Young Man Called Kirt
There was a young man called Kirt
Who composed a poem about a skirt.
It being very protracted
I became distracted
And thought
It ought
To be short.
I Challenge You To…
Ester Chilton challenges her readers to write a poem, limerick or story about shopping. You can find my contributions below together with an amusing limerick by Keith Channing.
This week’s challenge is to write a story, limerick or poem on the subject of:
Shopping
Last week’s challenge was to write about School. Here are a couple of the pieces you sent in:
Keith Channing sent this limerick in – on his birthday too!
There was a complete moratorium
On crooning in the auditorium
But only a fool
Would ban singing in school
Such a fine educational emporium.
Amy‘s is short and sweet:
School.
Because all the good cartoons aired on Saturday morning….
The end.
***
Photo credit: picmia.com
