When a respectable lady from the Forest of Dean
Said, “sir, your poetry is really obscene,
As its all about newly opened flowers,
And sinful young women’s great erotic powers,
I said, “dear madam, I pay you to clean!”.
A young lady named Lou
Said “I’ve lots to teach you,
Of history, english, and maths,
Of women and of bubble baths.
Well, at least of the latter 2!”.
When a young man of Harrow
Escaped to a place called Jarrow,
And my friend Claire
Followed him to there,
He disguised himself as a marrow!
You may see
Beauty in poetry,
And smile
While
The thing being described,
Is otherwise …
“He liked to rhyme
And was fond
Of women
And wine,
And sinning.
Now he has gone beyond
Women,
And wine,
And sinning.
And he is out of time
For rhyme”.
There once was a poet named Lou
Who said, “one day I’ll break through
With my very quirky verse”.
But it grew steadily worse,
So she turned to making strong glue!
I have sat round the open pub fire
And discussed the rights and wrongs of empire,
And the ends
Of men
With friends.
But when
I walk through fallen leaves,
The ends
Of men
I truly perceive.
Thinking of a girl he’s never met,
And perhaps he,
Will never see.
Memories of heels and skirts.
And flirts
(Who where not).
Momentary joy, close followed by regret
And pain,
Maybe he
Will do it all again.
But, If so, for what?
A brief hot
Rush,
A flush
Of pleasure.
Recollections of girl’s scent,
Then repent
At leisure.
When a religious young lady named Fay
Said, “sir, let us both now pray”.
I said, “we are full of sin,
So let us now both begin,
Then, afterwards, we ought to pray!”.
I love
The dark heart
Of the wood.
But the black
Has been cut back
Allowing me
To see
Where the mystery
Should be.
Yet the dark
And the light
Fight
Within me,
Still, and will
Do so
Until I go
Into the night,
And become forever part
Of the dark,
And the light.
K Morris - Poet 