I’m dating a pretty vampire named Wood
Who is rather fond of men’s blood.
But she also likes wine,
Which suits me real fine.
As I’m rather fond of my blood!
Vampire Humour
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
Wong’s Gong
There was a young lady named Wong
Who liked to bong on her gong.
When the vicar comes for tea
She invariably sits on my knee.
But now lets return to Wong’s gong!
—
I know a young lady named Wong
Who likes to bong on her gong.
When the vicar comes for tea
She invariably sits on my knee,
And Wong she bongs on her gong!
As An Old Clock Chimes
As an old clock chimes
An ageing poet rhymes
Of girls in summer frocks
Who think not of clocks.
But old Father Time
He ends all rhyme.
There Was a Young Lady of Hull
There was a young lady of Hull
Who, on being chased by a bull
Leapt into a great lake,
Where she encountered a rake.
So she returned forthwith to that bull!
My Local Gallery
I met a young lady named Malorie
Whose paintings hang in my local gallery.
Whilst admiring her nude
She called me rude,
So I returned to my local gallery …
The Dead Duck
Yesterday I emailed a friend asking whether he fancied a drink on Friday evening. He replied in the affirmative, and went on to say that “Asha has decapitated the duck!”.
I had visions of my friend’s Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy having run amok in Crystal Palace park and attacked a duck, which was now as dead as Monty Python’s Parrot! “Oh god!”, I thought. Then I remembered having bought Asha a squeaky duck from my local Sainsburys …
The Bachelor
If 2 depart
In skirts and heels
At break of day
What will the neighbours say
Of the bachelor man,
And Claire and Miss Anne …?
Mayfair
A beautiful young lady from London’s Mayfair
Has indulged in many a steamy affair.
Priggish Miss Coral
Calls her immoral,
Which is strange as she’s called Claire!
—
A beautiful young lady of London’s Mayfair
Is known by the name of Flair.
Priggish Miss Coral
Calls her immoral.
And I like to visit London’s Mayfair …
Doubtless We Will Discuss
Doubtless we will discuss
Poetry and lust
Over so-so Wine.
Then, in the morning
We will yawn.
You will depart.
And I will smile
For a while.
No forlorn
Heart of mine
Or thine.
Merely a rhyme
And maybe,
A next time.
In the Dark
In the dark
An urban
Fox’s bark
Pierces my heart.
I maintain
The urbane.
Amongst friends.
But, in the end,
The glass is thin
Betwixt me and him.
K Morris - Poet 