A young lady whose morals were loose
Did the local vicar seduce.
His bishop, named Dave
Looked very grave
And his wife, she turned quite puce!
A Young Lady Whose Morals Were Loose
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Category Archives: creative writing
When The Night Is Fine
When the night
Is fine
And women and wine
Delight
Who will say
What is wrong or right?
A gift by way
Of an inducement to stay,
Who will say
What is wrong or right?
At night
When he
Seeks comfort in she
Is it wrong or right?
Commerce pervades the night.
Twas always that way.
Some say
‘Tis wrong, and others right.
While the wise leave well alone
For he who is without sin
Should cast the first stone …
Great Minds Think Different – Celebrating Neurodiverse Creativity
A friend has drawn the below event to my attention:
“Great Minds Think Different – Celebrating neurodiverse creativity
Come along to an evening of poetry, live music and art celebrating neurodiversity!
Exceptional Individuals in association with Crouch End Arts Festival are hosting an evening of entertainment at the Tap Room at the Harringay Arms on Saturday 16th June, 7 – 9pm.
It will feature performances and exhibits from neurodiverse poets, singers and artists.
Drinks available to buy at the bar.
Exceptional Individuals is an organisation that supports people with dyslexia, dyspraxia, autism, ADHD and other forms of neurodiversity into employment, and helps them to thrive. (https://www.exceptionalindividuals.com/”).
For the event’s webpage please visit https://www.crouchendfestival.org/events/great-minds-think-different-celebrating-neurodiverse-creativity/
The Mirror
“So many have I seen
Reflected in my blank screen.
My all seeing eye
Can not lie.
I see the face
Of every race
And class
Reflected in my empty glass
And how girls hide
The signs,
The lines
Of age.
Though with what lies inside
I can not engage”.
There Was A Young Lady Called Beth
There was a young lady called Beth
Who refused to dance with Death.
But come close of day
He had his way
And Beth she waltzed with Death
I Know A Young Lady Called Lin
I know a young lady called Lin
Who plays my violin.
At night she plays
And the vicar says
That tis a most terrible sin.
Head Scarf
Her head scarf expresses
That there will
Be no short dresses.
Yet
She is a young woman still
And a woman may regret.
Modesty is all
But the West’s call
Says
That there are other ways
And you may find
That what happens behind
Closed doors, there stays
A Sad Satisfaction
A sad satisfaction
In this distraction
Of Pears.
Her’s
And mine?
For this brief time
If you glean
What I mean
From this little rhyme.
We Burn In Fire
We burn in fire
And in blazing jets
Man temporarily forgets
Himself in desire.
From our waters
Sons and daughters
Are born. Or we run
After fun.
Yet recreation
And procreation
Are oft as the horse and cart
And the hot spring
Does bring
Pain and joy
To the heart
Of girl and boy.
There Was A Young Man Called Paul
There was a young man called Paul
Who composed a limerick about a ball.
It said nothing profound
And went round and round
And how it ended – I don’t recall
K Morris - Poet 