There was a computer program named Spot
Who knew an awful lot.
He wrote a book
Which the critics mistook,
As a work by a man called Mott!
There Was A Computer Program Named Spot
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Category Archives: creative writing
Struggle
After a while
The smile
Becomes set
In stone,
And yet
Were we not always alone
Waiting for the telephone to ring?
Or, indeed
Anything
To prevent
The descent
Into looking inside
(for woe betide
That we
Should be faced with me).
Or perhaps we call
For the writing on the wall
Says there is no choice,
But conscience’s voice
Whispers “No
You should not go
There”.
The devil in his lair
Replies “you may be gone tomorrow,
Drown your sorrow
And forget
Regret
In desire’s
Never ending fire”.
We awake
And take
A look inside,
For man can not hide
From himself
In the arms of elf.
“Never again
Will we have such pain”
We say
(and perhaps believe
As ‘tis easy oneself to deceive),
But tomorrow is another day
And the primrose way
Leads gently down to hell
Where dammed souls dwell.
There Was A Young Man Named Moat
There was a young man named Moat
Who said “no woman should vote”.
His girlfriend Jill
Replied “You will
Go and collect your coat”!
We Dance In A Ring
We dance in a ring
In spring
When the roses bloom
And little think on winter’s tomb.
We cavort
In the summer sun
With unstaid maid
And give but little thought
To how the deer does run
Towards the setting sun.
In autumn, when leaves fall
We recall
Life’s joys and gall
Ere winter makes a bed
For lover’s head.
There Was A Young Lady Named Lou
There was a young lady named Lou
Who wrote a poem about you.
It was extremely salacious
And very vexacious,
But there was nothing I could do!
There Was A Young Poet Called Kevin
There was a young poet called Kevin
Who said “I may not get to heaven.
But I shall write
Throughout the night,
And get drunk by half-past seven”!
The Disillusioned Dissolute
Of an evening late
Oft times I would wait
For a click clack
To relieve my lack.
In the street below
Feet would come and go.
Heels would approach
And broach …
Or in the dark
Car park
A door would bang,
Which rhymes with twang.
Looking back, I recall
Bang
And twang
And fall.
There Was A Young Lady Named Gay
There was a young lady named Gay
Who said “every dog has its day”.
Her dog heaved a sigh
And said “I wonder why,
That can not be today?”
There Is An Equalitie In The Grave
There is an equalitie in the grave
Where the brave,
The coward, the rich and the poor
All must bow down,, to death’s all conquering law.
In the beds of the living,
There may be mutual giving
And equalitie,
But love may not always be free
Long Forgotten Lists
Long forgotten lists
And secret trysts.
Girl’s wrists
Naked, save for cheap jewels,
So often left behind
For fools
To find.
Inexpensive scent
Grossly overdone.
It is fun
To repent
Over the fact
Of an act
And say, “come future days,
I shall mend my ways”.
The moralist gabs
About heels
And midnight deals
As the stiletto stabs
Again, and perchance leaves a mark
On Lothario’s fickle heart.
K Morris - Poet 