There once was a girl named Page
Who said, “love is all the rage!”,
At which Miss Hocking
Did something real shocking.
And the vicar fell off the stage
Love is All the Rage
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Tag Archives: kevin morris author
When A Young Lady Gazing At The Moon
When a young lady gazing at the moon
Said, “have you seen the flower in bloom?”.
I said, “my dear Miss Moore
Do please explain your poetic metaphor.
And its so comfortable here in this bedroom”.
Careless Janine
When a careless young lady named Janine
Slipped and fell into a deep ravine,
She got covered in custard
And some rather nice mustard.
It really was a very strange scene!
Roue
Let us pretend,
Over wine,
That you, my friend
Are mine.
But, in an hour
Or so
You will surely go.
A flower
May perfume
Man’s bedroom
For a little while,
Causing him to smile.
‘Ere he does repent
Of the money spent.
A Young Lady Standing On a Stile
A young lady standing on a stile
Said, “surely there can be no denial
Of the wonders of nature.
And, dear handsome passing waiter,
Please help me down from this stile!”.
Rose’s Poem
When a poetic young lady named Rose
Tattooed an erotic poem on her nose,
The good bishop Hocking
Found it most shocking.
And so I gave back Rose’s clothes.
There Once Was a Policeman Named Warner
There once was a policeman named Warner
Who raided a rather famous old sauna.
He found Miss Hocking
Without shoe or stocking.
And a politician discussing politics with Lorna …
The Romance of Candlelight
As I composed poetry by romantic candlelight
There appeared a young lady in white.
Her name was Miss Moriah,
And she had a desire.
But my desire it was to write!
Moral Coral
I know a young lady named Coral
Who is so very stern and moral.
But, if men be rich
She removes every single stitch.
I wonder, is Coral really that moral?
Spa Wood
My friend, Henry took the below photograph in Spa Wood, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spa_Wood on 18 March.
The wood, which is only a few minutes walk from my home, has inspired many of my poems, including this one entitled “Rain”:
“The Rain
Patters amongst these leaves.
I listen again
And ascertain
That it’s the breeze
Midst these trees.
Yet it sounds the same
As rain.”
I was reminded of the above poem as the rain was (actually) falling as Henry and I strolled through Spa Wood.
(“Rain” can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX).
