There once was a poetic old goat
Who went and swallowed a coat.
He said, “that was delicious!”
But the effects were pernicious,
As a button stuck in his throat!
The Poetic Old Goat
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Category Archives: poetry
Identity
I heard my entry phone go.
I said, “hello?”
He said, “Its Tesco”.
I replied, “its not me!”
After, I thought I ought
To have said, “its not for me”.
For I am, of course “I” or “me”.
But, you see
I was not thinking of my identity
At the time,
For my mind
Was caught up in rhyme!
A Gossipy Young Lady Known as Cook
A gossipy young lady known as Cook
Has published a fast selling book.
An erotic dancer called Lou
Says we must sue!
But all Cook says is true …!
My Poetic Muse
The desk is cold to my hand.
I can not command
My poetic muse.
So think of girls who lose their shoes,
And poets who
Say more than they ought to
Of women and wine
And men who may seem
To spend their time
In fleeting dreams.
But it is no crime
For a poetic muse
To lose
Her ethereal shoes.
Yet what can be said
Should she lay her fickle head
Upon the poet’s empty bed
Where love sleeps.
Or is dead.
Being Blind
Being blind I find
I can read and write in the dark.
I have some small sight
So turn on the light at night
To prevent the stubbing of toes
And avoid
The stairs.
For, if I fall
All dreams and nightmares
May end
And eternal dark descend.
But the night
Will shut out the light
For us all
In the end
Whether we have blind eyes
Or otherwise.
My Muse
The desk is cold to my hand.
I can not command
My poetic muse.
So think of girls who lose their shoes,
And poets who
Say more than they ought to
Of women and wine
And men who may seem
To spend their time
In fleeting dreams.
But it is no crime
For a poetic muse
To lose
Her ethereal shoes.
Yet what can be said
Should she lay her fickle head
Upon the poet’s empty bed
Where love sleeps.
Or is dead.
A Young Lady of Peru
There was a young lady of Peru
Who was famous for losing a shoe.
One hot day in May
They found it in Bombay,
Which was strange as she’d never left Peru!
The Rain Fell
The rain fell
In the wood I know well.
I could say it’s sound
Was very profound
And the forest rang with birdsong.
All of this is true.
But I was wet through
And wanted home
And hot tea!
Unreliable Narrator
A young man who works as a waiter
Has a reputation as an unreliable narrator.
He has written a novel
In a rundown old hovel.
But some whisper, he’s only a waiter …!
spectacle
A young lady who wears 1 spectacle
Has a reputation for being very respectable.
I’ve seen her at night
Dancing by the moon’s light,
And she’s only been wearing 1 spectacle …!
K Morris - Poet 