There was a young man called Guy
Who worked in the field of AI.
He created a robot girl to love
But alas she gave him the shove
Which caused that young man to cry
There Was A Young Man Called Guy
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Category Archives: creative writing
Oil
To pour oil on troubled waters
Calms.
But when
The daughters
Of men
Employ their charms
The oil may destroy
Both girl and boy.
One can overanalyse
An action.
Yet a girl’s bright eyes
May grow dim
Through too much interaction
With a random him
And him.
‘Tis true
That there is nothing new
Under the sun.
Men will after pleasure run
And fun
Is only a phone call
Away. And perhaps to some
To fall
Is no great matter at all.
If I Could Paint A Portrait
If I could paint a portrait
Of each dream and nightmare
There you would see me
Naked in love and hate
Nameless Feet
Nameless feet have walked this way.
We danced but none did stay.
Some in heels, others bare
Dancing, dancing to who knows where.
The dance
May entrance
Or bring on care,
Shameless feet dancing, to who knows where.
Bark Rubbings
Close to the end of the woodland path,
Shortly before you join the thoroughfare,
There
I ran my hands across the tree.
It’s rough bark kindled in me
A child’s wish to an impression make
Of that tree, and to take
It away with me.
Had I crayons, perhaps I would have captured that bark
On pristine
Paper, creating a clean
Bark rubbing
Leaving the tree as before.
Yet as I stood
Close to the edge of that wood
I thought how one can neither restore
Nor rub away
Yesterday.
I Knew A Young Lady Called Lou
I knew a young lady called Lou
Who was virtuous and true.
While out on our first date
I just couldn’t wait
So she hit me with her shoe!
When The Sun Comes Out
When the sun comes out
Young women go about
In shorts and dresses
And men of a certain age
Engage
In dreams of perfect skin.
“Undresses …
Caresses …
Oh to be young, to win
And …”.
There Was A Young Lady Called Leigh
There was a young lady called Leigh
Who poured me a cup of tea.
I drank it right down
And said, with a frown
“Are you trying to poison me!”.
Conservatism
Conservatism is a scepticism regarding what some call “progress”
Coupled with a desire to redress
Genuine grievances, lest the great wall crumble and fall
Crushing all.
Conservatism is men who
Wish the clock
Would stop
At half-past 2
But know that this man can not do.
While the reactionary believes that one can rewind the clock
And it’s hands lock
At some frozen place
In time and space.
Conservatism is scepticism about equality
For the Conservative does see
That each tree
Is different. but the forest has a heart
And we are all part
Of an organic whole
With each man being possessed of his own unique soul.
Some say
That the Conservative way
Is an obsession with the bottom line
And that selfishness does Conservatism define.
Others maintain
That economics is an obsession of the Classical Liberal’s brain
And that the liberal interloper
Should slope away.
Conservatism is walks in country parks
As the larks
Twitter high above.
It is a love
Of old friends
Who are not means to an end.
It is a desire to enjoy
And not to destroy.
The ship must be kept on an even keel
Lest we into anarchy reel.
Yet some say
That today
Many Conservatives do not behave that way …
Some Gifts
Some gifts are given in lust
And are not meant.
Some repent
Of their lust
And the whirling dust
Chastens
Hastens
The onset
Of regret
K Morris - Poet 