Tag Archives: poems

Ought

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Ought
I to consort
With the hot
Thought?
Perhaps not
But there is no harm
In a thought …

The charm
Of her
Bare
Arm …
A mere thought.
Ought I?
Ought I not?
On this hot
Day.

The way
Is full of roses, and who will roses spurn
But roses to weeds may turn
And the heart is ofte times torn
By many a lethal thorn.

Lucifer Came

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Lucifer came for a potentate bold.

He said “you have had power and wealth untold,

Now you must render me your immortal soul”.

The potentate sighed,

And made reply,

“My soul it died,

you will find nothing inside.

It perished long ago,

And vanished like the summer snow.

Once I had ideals,

and yearned to build utopia in green fields.

I have waded in much blood,

And sacrificed the weak for the common good.

My soul you had long ago.

I take your hand,

Now let us go”.

—

When writing the above poem, I had in mind the famous quote of Lord Acton:
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.”

“The Potentate” can be found in my collection entitled “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”, http://moyhill.com/lost/. “Lost” can also be found in the Amazon Kindle store, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AF5EPVY/

There Was A Young Man Called Mick

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There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
At dead of night
We had a fight
And Mick he lost his stick!

There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
A policewoman named Jane
Said “It gives me great pain
To confiscate that stick!”.

There Was A Young Lady Called Ling

4 Replies

There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Joined our date
In the midst of the budding spring.

There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Whacked me with a plate.
Oh love, tis a painful thing!

The Lost Soul

4 Replies

A wiff
Of cheap scent
On bedclothes
For him to sniff
When she goes.

How easy it is to repent
Of the money spent
But, he knows
That when the wine flows
The weak
Will seek
For a she of a certain profession.

Had he belief
He would make his confession
To the priest who knows
Where the lost soul goes
To find a temporary relief
On the Siren’s reef.