We met in the wood
Where the wild flowers bud
And the ageing poet rhymes
Of his long lost springtime.
Buds turn to flowers
On the woodland path.
Our hours are finite
And pass into night.
We Met in the Wood
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Tag Archives: kevin morris author
There Was a Young Lady Named Bell
There was a young lady named Bell
Who built a place down in Hell.
A demon called Moore
Fitted her front door
And the devil he rang Bell’s bell!
When I Visited a Discreet Little Sauna
When I visited a discreet little Sauna
I was entertained by pretty Miss Lorna.
We enjoyed tea and cake
With a girl called Lake,
And a vicar who calls himself Warner …
I Met a Young Lady Named Steed
I met a young lady named Steed
Who said, “I have a great need!”,
Dear reader, I must confess
She was wearing no dress
Which distracted my steed from his feed!
A Rose Tight Closed
A rose
Tight closed.
All petals fall
But not all
Roses open
And unspoken
Lust is dust
Miss Mar’s Memoir
My friend whose name is Miss Mar
Wrote a memoir just wearing her bra.
When I attended her book signing
All the men they where lining
Up to see her memoir and bra …
A Summer Butterfly
A butterfly
On a
Sunny day
Flew by
My Labrador.
A snap of jaw.
And our summer chat
Of this and that.
All things must die
As the summer butterfly.
Death’s jaws will close
On man and rose.
You and I
Are but butterflies
Who love and laugh
And then must pass.
The Ghost of Marx
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!
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 …
K Morris - Poet 