I was honoured to be interviewed by Victoria, for her excellent site Rhyme. My interview covers a variety of topics, including what inspires me to write poetry, together with those poets who have exerted an influence on my writing. To read the interview please visit https://rhymepoetry.wordpress.com/2017/06/01/interview-with-kevin-morris/.
There was a young man called Hawking
Who wished to go to Dawking.
He missed his train
And cried out in pain,
“I guess I should start walking!”
An elderly crocodile
Lazing in the Nile
Did spy
A young maiden walking by.
Heaving a deep sigh
He said “my life here
In this river
Is so drear.
Why dost thou quiver
With fear?
Come you near
My dear.
We shall drink fine wine
And together dine”.
“Sir crocodile”
(The young maiden made reply, with a smile),
“It is getting late
And my mother does at home wait.
I fear
My dear
Sir that your plate
Shall empty be,
And as for me
I must home to tea,
And then to sleep
For young maidens are forlorn
And mothers weep
When the crocodile does yawn!”
As one grows older
There opens
A great chasm
Where enthusiasm
Sighs
And dies.
The chasm deep
Does so easily creep
Upon man,
Who must step back
(If he can)!
You asked how much they could
Sell the wood
For (always assuming that they wish to sell)?
How easy it is to tell
That you are a man of pounds, shillings and pence,
With a sense
Of the price of art,
Though I fancy I hear an abacus click,
Where should beat your heart.
Who is the guilty one?
As the night went on
They both drank to excess.
Her dress
Was short
And her lipstick red, as the quilt On the bed,
when he brought her home
Alone.
Did she say “no or yes”?
A short dress
Is not an invitation
And a man’s anticipation
Is no excuse
For abuse.
Friends saw her flirt,
But she lay inert
On the quilt.
Who wilt
Judge their guilt?
There was a young man called Sun
Who always liked to pun.
His puns where so bad
That they drove his friends mad,
While the ladies would turn and run!
She enters a door
And leaves no more.
Another exits into the street,
(The same face, hands and feet),
But not as before.
The thunder came last night
But there was no flash of light,
Just a reverberating rumble
And the tumble
Of rain.
