There was a young lady named Leigh
Who said, “is it really me?”.
But the glass it broke,
As the words she spoke,
So Leigh was unable to see!
—
There was a young man named Shane
Who caught the wrong train.
A guard named Pride
Said “enjoy the ride,
And my daughter’s name it is Jane!”
—
There was a young man named Shane
Who boarded the wrong train.
A guard called Pride
Said “enjoy the ride
As this is an express train!”
There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted all of her toes.
She wore thick socks,
Which acted as locks,
So I have never seen her toes!
—
There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted 5 of her toes.
She left the remainder unvarnished.
Her reputation got tarnished,
As to why? Nobody knows!
—
There was a young lady named Rose
Who painted her fingers and toes.
She painted them black
But she did lack
Enough to varnish her nose!
There was a young man named Round
Who owned a lugubrious hound.
Its name was Bill.
They lived on a hill
And this limerick says nothing profound!
Rising at 6 am
I take up my virtual pen.
Then I see
Staring at me
The sandwich wrapper from yesterday.
Ah the romance of a writer’s life.
Had I a wife
She would clear that away,
Or more likely say
In a manner most sweet
“You throw away what you eat
My dearest love
For you are not above
Taking a trip to yonder bin.
Therein
You will discover abandoned schemes
And broken dreams”.
There was a young man named Paul
Who drove his mistress up the wall.
He talked about his dear wife Jane
(Which caused his lover to complain),
So soon he had no mistress at all!
There was a young lady named Holly
Who was extremely plump and jolly.
We met at night
And to my delight
She led me into folly …
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He danced about
And made great shout,
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
He raised it high
Unto the sky
But it failed to rain on Nick!
—
There was a young man named Nick
Who purchased a rain stick.
When it failed to rain
He didn’t complain
But bought another stick!
Shall I write
To delight
My reader’s a stream of consciousness piece?
Or should I cease
My screed?
For there is no need
To take up their valuable time
With my rhyme
Which goes,
As the river flows
Down to the sea.
I am lost in the ocean
My words a mere commotion
Which (as the bard now dead
So rightly said)
Is “a tale told by an idiot signifying nothing”.
“Macbeth”, or should I say
“The Scottish Play”
Is full of words cleverly stitched together,
With witches and stormy weather
Playing their part.
The dagger in Duncan’s heart
Brought Macbeth and his wife to perdition.
Ambition
Brought him low
As those who study Shakespeare know.
Should I go
On with this rhyme
Wasting time
Forever spinning
To keep my mind off sinning,
Which, of course I never do,
For you
Are aware
I dare
Say
That I am honest as the day
Is long. In fact a plaster saint am I
And when I die
I shall to heaven go,
Or perhaps somewhere below
Where all my desire
Shall end in fire …!
There was a young lady named Alice
Who lived in Crystal Palace.
She broke the law
At halfpast four
And ran away to Dallas!
There was a young man from Mauritius
Who thought all things delicious.
He ate some chalk
And a plastic fawk,
The effect was rather pernicious!
K Morris - Poet 