A young lady who is extremely clean
Likes to wash in a washing machine.
She dries in a dryer
With a girl named Moriah
And they wash in my washing machine!
A Young Lady Who is Extremely Clean
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Category Archives: poems
As I Drink My Hot Curry Soup
As I drink my hot curry soup
Melancholy love songs loop.
The same thoughts go round and round
Of waitresses who have come and gone.
Sometimes my thoughts are profound.
At other times I tempt with rhymes
A waitress who likes poetry.
But I have found
My verse can not undress a waitress
For my brief rhyme
Is out of time
And I am growing old.
So I drink my hot curry soup
As the music loops around.
And then go home alone.
Lou Who Fell into a Vat of Glue
I know a young lady named Lou
Who fell into a vat of glue.
Her boyfriend called Rob
Is a terrible snob,
But he’s not as stuck up as Lou!
The Haunted Castle
There was a young lady named Suki
Who said, “this castle is very spooky!”.
A ghost called Fred
Shook his gray head –
Which reassured that young lady named Suki!
Recalling Paula
There was a young lady named Paula,
And very few people can recall her.
She worked in a bar
With a man called Mar –
I think her name it was Paula?
The Joys of Swinging
When a young lady in a short frock
Decided to swing from a very old clock,
The clock’s owner, known as Dan,
Said, “I’m a red blooded man,
But I’m worried you will break that clock!”.
Passing Through
Last night the wind blew.
Today I remember you
In your heels and skirt
You wore for me.
There was no need for me to flirt
As I knew you would be with me
For an hour or so
And then you would go.
The wind is passionate and free.
You wore those clothes for me
Because you knew that I like heels and skirts.
But there was no need to flirt with you.
You flew to Turkey.
We can both agree
That there was some delight,
And a flight to Turkey
For you.
The Joys of Sinning
When we met a group of young women
Who spoke of the great joys of sinning,
The good vicar Paul
Talked of the fall,
And the bishop he just couldn’t stop grinning!
In Morning Time
In morning time
I write a rhyme
Before the riot
Of the coming day
Takes my muse away.
I am clay
And hot lust.
But ere I am dust
I have words to say.
Perhaps a brief rhyme of mine
Of women and wine
And fleeting time may live on
When I am gone.
We all go from the gloom
Of the womb
To the gloom of the tomb.
But take delight
In sunlight, ere we go.
The Churchyard Yew
I stood with you
By the churchyard Yew
On Palm Sunday
As children and donkey
Made their way
Past the Yew
And into the church.
It was wonderful to see
The children happy.
But, just on the periphery
Of joy I often see
The Yew, which has survived
So many lives
Waiting for me.
K Morris - Poet 