There once was a young lady named Kipper
Who owned a rather fine old slipper.
A person named Dan
Was a generous man
And liked to spend time with Miss Kipper …
Miss Kipper’s Slipper
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Miss Meek
When a young lady named Meek
Said, “your poetry is very bleak!”,
I said, with a sigh,
“You and I will die”,
Which made poor Miss Meek weep!
Safe in My Place
Safe in my place
I hear foxes bark
In the autumn dark.
In this semi-urban space
The foxes laugh and say
All this will pass away.
We Take Delight
We take delight
In friendship
And love.
Then comes the night.
There Once Was a Very Wise Old Rooster
There once was a very wise old rooster
Who decided to go for his Covid booster.
, But when he got there
A young nurse named Claire
Said, “this booster is not meant for you rooster!”
(I went for my Covid booster yesterday and, strange to say, not a rooster was in sight.
To be serious for a moment, if you are eligible for a booster, and have not yet had it, I would urge you to do so. The vaccine is helping to keep us all safe. Yes it doesn’t offer absolute protection, but we are now in a much better position than we where prior to the introduction of Covid vaccines).
When I Went to a Swingers Party
When I went to a swingers party
With my friend who is rather arty,
She stood in a corner
With an artist named Warner.
As for me, I’m not that arty …!
Ere I Wrote a Word
Ere I wrote a word
I heard the morning bird
Who knows not of plot,
Yet he
Inspires poetry.
Keats had his Nightingale.
But All hearts fail.
Though poetry lives on
When poets are gone
K Morris Poet on TikTok
i have been experimenting with TikTok. If you would like to check out me reading a number of my poems on TikTok please follow this link.
As I Walked in a Beautiful Hollow
As I walked in a beautiful hollow
A young lady asked me to follow.
She was pretty and witty
And came from the city.
But alas, she was so very hollow!
The Lighted Department Store
The lighted department store.
The welcoming pub door
All attract and distract
Us from the fact
That lights go out
And the merry shout
Of the drinker passes
As the final glasses
Of our day
Are cleared away.
K Morris - Poet 