A stranger is a friend
You have not yet met.
You can pretend
That the girl in heels
And the short, tight
Dress,
You ordered tonight
Feels
Delight
When you caress
Her where
A lover’s hand
Should command
True pleasure.
But, at your leisure,
(And if wise), you will see
The reality
That the company
Of an escort
Can be easily bought,
But love? no,
‘Tis not so.
When A naughty young lady named Linda
Said, “I shall find a date using Cinder,
They said, “do you mean the Tinder app?”,
She replied, “I need that kind of chap,
Who is handsome and hot as a cinder!”.
Is a goddess
Seen before
A goddess
No more
When, on seeing her for a second time
You find
That your rhyme
Did capture
A rapture
That is no more,
Though the rhyme
Is as before?
When a young lady of France
Said, “you men have no romance!”,
And I said, “come over here
And we’ll drink lots of beer!”,
She returned with speed to France!
When a young man of France
Asked to see a lap dance
And they offered him overpriced, lukewarm champagne,
He said, “if its all the same,
I’d rather just see a lap dance!”.
A young man named Hopp
Beats me with his mop.
I’ve begged him to desist,
But he continues to persist.
He’ll surely break that mop!
It is no rumour
That all are humour
Palls, in the end,
My friend
When the vicar’s daughter lost her frock
The whole parish received a great shock,
But ’twas found in my house
By the good vicar’s noble spouse,
Whilst drunk on the bishop’s fine hock!
I know a young lady named Beth
Who refuses to pause for breath.
On meeting The dreaded Grim Reaper
On the London to Glasgow sleeper,
She bored the poor Reaper to death
In the chaos
Of our dreams
We experience a loss
Of the control
That we, in waking hours maintain
And the oh so fragile pane,
Shatters, revealing our soul.
‘Tis good that none but we
Can see
How our consciousness streams,
Out of control, in dreams.
K Morris - Poet 