There once was a poet named Heart
Whose verse was so bleak and dark,
That a demon called Lee
Said, “I weep for thee”,
But his tears they just wouldn’t start!
There Once was A Poet Named Heart
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She was, Perhaps Japanese
The curtains where drawn.
The forlorn
Fact of an act,
Remembered, when alone
At home.
She was, perhaps Japanese,
And tried to please,
In english, broken, so softly spoken.
Something was said about a condom.
He did, then was gone.
Maybe, God sees.
There Was A Young Lady Named Beth
There was a young lady named Beth
Who said, “I don’t believe in death”.
But, as she grew older
The world became ever colder,
And she started to believe in death.
When A Young Lady Named Leigh
When a young lady named Leigh
Said, “don’t you mess with me!”,
I said “its not my intention
To do the thing you mention,
Now shall we descend this tree?”.
In The Garden of Delight
In the garden of delight
Both day and night
The flower’s perfume
Enters the lover’s room.
Blouses are lost.
The mushroom
Rises. The frost
Will chill
The flower and mushroom,
Oh, so soon.
Girls Shoes
I find
That girls shoes
Prey on my mind
From time to time.
Did they choose
To wear those shoes?
(I speak here
Of women of a particular kind).
I fear
That stilettos,
Worn by girls from ghettos
Prey on my mind,
Although you will find
That there are a few
Young middle class women too.
When A Young Lady Named Gwen
When a young lady named Gwen
Said, “I am god’s gift to men”,
I said, “my dear sweet girl
You set my head in a whirl,
But could you return my pen?”.
When A Religious Young Lady Named White
When a religious young lady named White
Entered my bedchamber at midnight,
And I said, “please stay,
She said, “we should pray”,
And then she turned out the light.
To and Fro
The razor does go
To and fro
As he shaves me.
We speak of women,
And his hands go
To and fro.
“Would you like anything else?”, he asks,
His task
Maybe, complete.
I think of young women’s feet
But say,
“Not today”.
There Was A Young Lady Named Dora
There was a young lady named Dora
And many holy men did adore her.
By her winking red light
I watched good bishop White,
Trying to save that young lady Dora.
K Morris - Poet 