I know a young lady called Suzette
Who works on the internet.
When you click on her link
She’s a girl called Spink
And sometimes she’s Yvette …
I Know A Young Lady Called Suzette
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A Girl By The Name of Spink
A girl by the name of Spink
Is possessed of a particular kink.
But take great care
For I speak of her hair
And one should never insult Miss Spink!
When A Naughty Young Lady Called Lou
When a naughty young lady called Lou
Was caught stealing a single shoe
A store detective named Ted
Scratched his head
And said, “why did you not steal 2?”
Crows at Dusk
Dusk is falling.
I hear
In the autumn of my year
Crows calling
And the chatter of the magpie
As I
Ponder on days of yore.
The caw
Of this dark bird
Was no
Doubt heard
Long ago
By those who walked this self-same track.
The evening is chill
But I will
Not turn back
For melancholy is a precious part
Of the human heart,
And those who forever laugh
Do not comprehend
That every path
Must reach its end.
—
I hear children playing in a garden close to the park.
‘Tis a happy sound after the cawing of the crows.
Who knows
Perhaps matters
Are not so stark
For not all dreams shatter
And something of what is precious may survive.
‘The Way through the Woods’: A Poem by Rudyard Kipling
Following yesterday’s tree-themed poem, today we share ‘The Way through the Woods’, one of the best-loved poems by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936). Although he is not known for writing obscure poetry (some of his short stories are true head-scratchers, mind!), Kipling leaves the meaning of ‘The Way through the Woods’ somewhat ambiguous.
‘The Way through the Woods’ by Rudyard Kipling
They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
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“Attack” by Siegfried Sassoon, as read by Dame Helen Mirren
A powerful reading by Dame Hellen Mirren of Siegfried Sassoon’s poem “Attack”,
We authors/poets are often exhorted to “show not tell”. Sassoon’s poem does a lot of “telling” and does it extremely effectively. Indeed I am of the firm conviction that many of those who exhort we writers to “show not tell” can not hold a candle to Sassoon.
Kevin
The Rose
The rose, not yet opened, carries within
The seeds of it’s own destruction. For you see
The bee
Must sin
In the flower’s crimson heart
And the poet will call that art?
When A Talented Young Authoress Called Sue
When a talented young authoress called Sue
Got stuck in a public loo
She wrote a novel about a skyscraper
On the cheapest toilet paper
And published it at 2!
We Ourselves Lose
We ourselves lose
To flirts
In skirts
And high-heeled shoes.
Scent carried on a summer’s breeze.
Girls who tease
And perchance
Please.
‘Tis the dance
That will never end
My friend
Or so we pretend.
They Say that When Policemen Look Young
They say
That when policemen look young, you are getting old.
I was told
By a lady yesterday,
In a conversational way
That she was born
In the year
I came to old London town
To work.
A jerk
Of recognition within.
Hopes abandoned
There will be no sin …
K Morris - Poet 