When a young lady named Jane
Said, “let us explore pleasure and pain”,
And she took out a whip,
Which she held at her hip,
I said, “the commuters are watching, Jane!”.
When a Young Lady Named Jane
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
I Met a Dog Named Joan
I met a dog named Joan
Chewing on a huge bone.
When I said, “is it really your contention
That rats and cats I should not mention?”,
She growled, so I left her well alone!
Mortality
Passing through,
I smile
At the graveyard tree
That will, outlast me.
A Young Lady Whose Name is Kitty
A young lady whose name is Kitty
Is very petite and pretty.
And when I’m all alone
I take out my phone,
And converse with that virtual girl Kitty!
Bought
Bought
Kisses
From fishes
Who can never be caught.
The fisherman wishes
For more,
Yet, catches only regret,
From girls who
Would have nothing to do
With him. Save that they,
Have debts to pay.
Liberty3
The breeze
In these trees
Blows free
And says to me,
“Recognise your mortality
And live free.
For ’tis better to die,
Than give up one’s liberty”.
And I,
Could not but agree.
Liberty2
Liberty is the mind unconfined.
It is the right to decide
Whether to remain at home, alone,
Or go outside
To walk,
Or talk
With friends.
Liberty has no ends
(Other than it’s own).
It is the right to be left alone
(Providing one respects the liberty
Of others to live free
Under law,
Where the state’s claw
Remains sheathed,
Save in case of direst need).
Yet we
Know not
What
It is to be
Free,
Until we are not.
Liberty
Some say
That liberty,
To be
Free,
Is an abstract concept.
But, when it is taken away,
I suspect
That even the stupid may
Know what it is to be,
Free
A Young Lady Who Calls herself Fiona
A young lady who calls herself Fiona
Comes from the beautiful isle of Iona.
In her choice of profession
She showed absolutely no discretion,
So her mother she completely disowned her!
There is Something Poignant About the Sunshine
There is something poignant about the sunshine.
A girl’s soft kiss
Is divine.
The bliss
Of fingers
That linger,
Intertwined in mine.
The light lingers,
A girl’s fingers
Still intertwine.
The night breeze
Will freeze
This heart
And art
Of mine.
K Morris - Poet 