I met a young lady named May
Who said, “I regret I can not stay”.
I said, with tears of great sorrow,
“Young woman, each precious moment we borrow.
But, ’tis still April, my dear young May!”.
I Met A Young Lady Named May
2 Replies
Category Archives: poetry
In Mid April
In mid April
The birds sing
And start
A rill
Of hope in my heart.
Surely this Covid thing
Will pass?
But, for now lad
And lass
Are glad
That birds still sing
In spring.
Meets
Back seat
Car meets.
Or a certain hotel,
That she knows well.
Birds sing
In spring.
At 19,
What does she dream?
When A Young Lady Named Michelle
When a young lady named Michelle
Said, “you should sell, sell sell!”.
And I said, “are you a stockbroker?”,
And she said, “no, I’m a joker”.
I said, “I prefer miss Nell!”.
Share Your Poems
I recently blogged regarding an opportunity for poets to have their poems aired, https://kmorrispoet.com/2020/04/08/an-opportunity-for-poets-to-have-their-work-aired/.
The organiser, David Vickery, has created a Facebook page to promote the sharing of poems concerning COVID-19, which can be found here, https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100049345031282.
You can find David’s Youtube where he reads poems on Corona/Covid-19 which have been submitted to him here, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCERRl7-EinGfUMCKePVlD3A.
As of today (17 April), David has uploaded 1 poem, which can be found here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8S6YZQjCzw.
If you are interested in contacting David and having your poem read, please follow the above links
Kevin
The Kiss
A young lady whose name is Kate
Said, “the evening it grows very late”.
So I gave her a kiss,
And she cried out in bliss.
Then her father he opened the gate!
Time
On a beautiful spring night
I heard, with some delight
The gentle tick tock
Of a long deceased clock.
Time is always there.
Yet I care
For the tick tock
Of an individual clock.
Each, separate timepiece
Must,
One day
Cease.
And I shall go away,
And all the philosophy discussed,
Shall turn to dust.
Whilst Walking In The Forest Green
Whilst walking in the forest green
I met with the fairy queen,
Who said,”la belle dame sans merci”.
I said, “do, please excuse me,
But is this a Keatsian dream?”.
Heat
Walking through the wood
In this weather hot
I think on should,
And should not.
I shall be good.
But, I have heard tell
That nymphs herein
Dwell.
Some say, that they
Are shy.
I shall stare at the sky
For, therein,
Sin
Is not.
Above, the hot
Sky,
Whilst below
Nymphs go
By.
I Walked The Woodland Path
I
Walked the woodland path
And passed
By
Tall, slender flowers.
Now I
Traverse, in verse
That self-same path,
And grow flowers
In my mind.
The flowers
May be gone tomorrow.
For I find
That we borrow
Time.
True, many a rose
Has been emmortalised in rhyme
But the poet knows,
That he has limited time.
K Morris - Poet 