Autumn has come to me.
I see
The fallen tree
As I walk through the wood.
Though many a tree
Remains good,
I think on the fallen one
(Not long gone),
On Brexit,
An exit
And parliamentary democracy.
Autumn has Come To Me
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Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
A Young Lady Named White
A young lady named white
Came round to mine last night.
There she stood in my bedroom
Scented with the sweetest perfume,
As she deftly changed my light!
When A Young Lady Named Lou
When a young lady named Lou
Married an elderly vicar called Drew,
All the bridesmaids got very drunk,
And a rather disreputable old monk,
Waltzed with a girl called Sue!
Rooms at Different Times Produce Diverse Rhymes
Rooms at different times
Produce
Diverse rhymes.
A girl’s perfume
In a darkened room
May seduce
A man into penning a rhyme
About lust.
Do not condemn
Such men
For there will be time
Enough for dust.
When a young lady named Joan
When a young lady named Joan
Said, “please, just leave me alone!”,
And I replied, “whatever you say”,
She wept, “oh, do please stay!”,
She’s a strange young lady is Joan!
The Poets Rest
A publican whose name is Best
Runs a pub called the Poets Rest.
It is full of great débauche
And I think that perhaps I ought,
To stop drinking in the Poets Rest!
A barmaid whose name is Best
Works in the Poets Rest.
It is full of great débauche
So I think that I ought
Not to tell the rest!
All Heels, and Hair
All heels, and hair
And legs.
No beds
For him,
Just dreams of sin
With her
Who does care
Not for him.
When A Young Man Named Gus
When a young man named Gus
Quoted Thomas Malthus on the bus,
A few passengers fell sound asleep
Whilst others did most bitterly weep,
But the driver he didn’t fuss!
When A Young Lady Named Gale
When a young lady named Gale
Said, “my dog has no tail”,
And I replied, “are you having an affair?”
She said, “I think I now remember where,
My dog he left his tail!”.
The Wheel
Some play roulette
And regret
Nought until they choose
To lose
All on the wheel,
That can not feel
Others choose
To lose
All and fall
For a good time girl.
The wheel
Will whirl
And they feel
The thrill of sin.
Some poets spin
A rhyme
About a good time
Girl and the roulette
Wheel that goes round
In circles of regret.
But ’tis nothing profound.
