She wants her nails done
And he, having a desire
To play with fire
Will pay for fun.
She will shop
Until she drops
And he will
Foot her bill.
Or, if he should drop,
Some other will pay
For her to shop.
That’s just the world’s way.
When a most obliging young lady named Ria
Said, “I’ll do anything you like my dear!”,
And I said to Rose,
“Please, take off your clothes”,
She said, “my dear, my name isn’t Ria!”.
I dreamed of sinning
With beautiful young women,
And choice, and variety.
Now, in morning time
I rhyme
Of sobriety.
I have been giving some considerable thought as to how I can best promote my poetry and have come up with the novel and innovative idea of painting my poems on my chest and torso. This will, of course necessitate me walking around half dressed. However it will, I am sure prove to be an effective means of publicising my work.
My more serious verses will be painted on in dark colours, whilst my humorous poems will appear in brightly coloured paints complete with appropriate humorous drawings.
I can assure my readers that all paints will be eco friendly and will not, in any way harm me or the environment.
So watch out for me in and around London!
Winter’s last blast
Sighs and dies
In a rhyme
Of passing springtime.
In flowering May
We little think
On Autumn grey
But our spring
Does not stay.
Birds heard at eventide.
Tears in human eyes.
How we anthropomorphise!
There was a young lady named Moriah
Who desired to burn the old squire.
The helpful vicar Hatch
Passed her a match,
And the squire he divorced young Moriah!
“Jig jig”,
She said,
Caring not a fig
For another stranger’s bed.
Her name forgot,
The circumstance not.
When I met a man at his mowing
And said to him, “how is it going?”,
He said to me, “oh no!
I’ve just cut off my toe!”,
I said, “but how is your mowing going?”
K Morris - Poet 