Whilst walking through some very nice parks
I met with the ghost of Marx.
He said, “be my pal
And read my Das Kapital”.
But I preferred to enjoy those parks!
The Ghost of Marx
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Tag Archives: blogging
Working Girl
She expertly fits
A balloon.
Sits. Wriggles hips.
And soon
His fun
Is done.
She is his confessional
And as a professional
Listens for a while.
Then, with a smile,
“Darling that was fun.
Now I must run”.
Old Time
On hearing my clock chime
I think on Father Time.
I touch my grey hair
And wish for a woman ere
My ageing clock does finally stop
Ending time and my passing rhyme
Pure Miss Moore
I know a young lady named Moore
Who has a reputation for being pure.
She came round at midnight
With her friend Miss White,
Who’s reputation is as pure as Moore …
Hairclip
A lost hairclip,
It’s owner unknown
Records a slip
Of hip
Against hip.
Lou Who Fell into a Pot of Stew
When a young lady named Lou
Fell into a pot of stew,
A chef called Doyle
Said, “you will spoil
That stew you fell into Lou!”.
A Rake’s Life
After the women go
I so often know
The meaning of zero.
Sometimes there is pleasure
But, when they go
Often I feel zero.
Sometimes I wonder whether
They also know zero.
I avoid
The void
In nights
Of bought delights.
But, when they go
Often I know
The emptiness of zero.
A Wicked Rumour
I know a pretty young perfumer
Who is spreading a wicked rumour,
About me and her,
And gorgeous Miss Claire.
How sad its just a rumour …!
The Rain Came Fast
The rain came fast,
But failed to last.
Our great civilisation came.
And rain will remain.
The Tick Tock of the Clock
The tick tock
Of the clock
Says we must
Turn to dust.
And girl’s heels clip clop
In time with the clock.
And Time’s hands measure
Our pain and pleasure.
K Morris - Poet 