Awaking as the clock struck midnight
I found to my great delight,
The late author, Mr Charles Dickens
With a large flock of toy chickens,
And my Mistress who calls herself White!
Awaking As The Clock Struck Midnight
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Category Archives: books
On Opening My Large Old Wardrobe
On opening my large old wardrobe
And seeing a young lady’s earlobe,
I said, “have you seen my shirt?”,
At which she called me a flirt,
And said, “please put on your robe!”.
When An Extremely Fat Man Named William Paul
When an extremely fat man named William Paul
Fell with great force against my garden wall,
And I heard the wall crack
As he fell on his back,
I said, “Paul, shall pay for my wall!”.
When A Young Lady Named Bess
When a young lady named Bess
Went to visit Loch Ness,
She saw no monster great,
But met a girl called Kate,
Who said she knew Miss Ness!
In this wood
In this wood,
In parts overgrown
I walked alone,
Yet I had a myriad tree
For company.
Then the rain came
And I was free,
For I am part
Of the wood’s heart
Which lives in me.
When A Young Lady Named Claire
When a young lady named Claire
Asked, “shall we have a sordid affair?”,
And I said, “just us 2?”,
She replied, “do you like Miss Lou?”,
And this poem, it stops right there …
When A Young Lady of Greece
When a young lady of Greece
Said, “when will your writing cease?”,
I replied, with a grin,
“Are you in to hot sin?”,
And then she called the police!
The Customer
“With me
Its not just
A desire
For fire,
Its company
Also, for lust
Is fleeting as a girl’s forced smile,
There for a while,
Turned on
For me,
Then gone
With she
Who cares not for me,
Nor for my company”.
What is Art?
A thought provoking post on “What is Art?”, followed on by an interesting discussion in the comments section, https://irevuo.art/2019/10/04/tmm-what-is-art/.
Sometimes I think that those who lop and chop
Sometimes I think that those
Who lop
And chop
At that which organically grows,
And think they do good
No not the wood
As a whole
Is possessed of a soul,
And that sometimes one should let be
Both wood
And tree,
For who
Are you
And I
To quantify variety?
K Morris - Poet 