When a foolish young man known as Mark
Went for a walk in a haunted park,
A kindly old ghoul
Said, “you’re a fool!
But I’ll let you off this once Mark!”
Foolish Mark
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: crystal palace poetry
There Once Was a Lady of Settle
There once was a lady of Settle
Who went and stood on a nettle.
She said such bad words
That it frightened the birds,
And shocked the good people of Settle!
The Church and the Tree
Touching this tall old tree
I wonder what feels real to me:
This church of cold stone
Where people go to show their religiosity,
Or this rough bark
Warm from the spring sun.
It is the bark
That calls to my heart
And this gentle sun.
On Hearing the Wind Sing
On hearing the wind sing
And the wild rain
Battering at my window pane,
I know I am
But mortal man.
A temporary thing.
They Say there’s a Wicked Old Rake
They say there’s a wicked old rake
Who goes by the name of Lake.
But he’s also known as Kevin
And he’ll never get to heaven –
I think there must be some mistake!
Some Thoughts on Ernest Dowson
Often I think
On a fine poet who rhymed
Of women and wine
And who died of excess drink
At just 32.
All his party time
And his lust
Hid fear of dust.
Now I find in his rhyme
A great pleasure
In my leisure time.
But I have more than rhyme
To fill time.
Wild Flowers Bloomed Nearby
Wild flowers bloomed nearby
As I pondered on why
Shoes for petite feet,
And t-shirt where left
Bereft, behind,
In the wood.
For love
Of my rhyme?
Naughty Miss Harris
When I went with that naughty Miss Harris
For a dirty weekend to that beautiful Paris,
Her and Miss Honey
Stole all my money.
Dear reader, please send some money to Paris!
When the Mirror Fell
When the mirror fell
I thought not
Of the Lady of Shalott,
Although I know
The rhyme quite well.
Noone got cut.
You mentioned bad luck.
And I have not forgot
The unfortunate Shalott.
But believe it not.
I have Heard Nymphs are Sometimes Found
I have heard nymphs are sometimes found
In the fragrant wood.
It would be good to lie down
On the leafy ground
And take delight in Aphrodite.
But no, the wood
Is full of deep mud
And poor Miss Aphrodite
Would spoil yet another nightie!
K Morris - Poet 