A much widowed young lady named Lake
Has baked many men in a cake.
She is extremely pretty
And really quite witty,
But I really don’t fancy Lake’s cake …!
A Much Widowed Young Lady Named Lake
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Tag Archives: poetry blogs
A Man Who is a Terrible Sinner
A man who is a terrible sinner
Came round to mine for his dinner.
His name being Paul
He ate it all.
As for me? I grew much thinner!
In Early December
In early December
November’s leaves still adorn
The woodland lawn.
Man’s pattern is made
In light and shade.
But the gardener’s rake
Rakes all leaves.
A Fallen Tree
On 3 December, I published this poem, https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/12/03/i-passed-a-log/. Below is a slightly reworked version of my composition entitled A Fallen Tree:
A fallen tree
Spoke to me
On a
December day.
Once it stood
In ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder
And I ever older.
I Would Rather Delve
I would rather delve
Into dusty bookshelves.
There are other pleasures,
But the treasures
Of literature stay
While a girl’s smile
Soon fades away.
Yet, literature has no arms
And, on a December day
Young women’s charms
May tempt me away
From my dust covered books
To girl’s who’s looks
Must fade to dust,
Though today they may play.
I Met a Young Lady Named Marge
I met a young lady named Marge
Who posts lots of ads for massage.
And when I got there
A police constable called Claire
Charged me and Marge on a barge!
I Passed a Log
I passed a log
With my dog
On a December day.
Once it stood
In this ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder,
And I ever older.
As I Strolled Home One Dark December Night
As I strolled home one dark December night
I met a young lady dressed in white.
Her skirt being real short
I thought that I ought
To lend her my coat that cold night …!
On Observing a Traffic Jam
Observing a traffic jam
I am amazed
And give due praise
To this idol
From the bible
That we call progress.
For progress
Does redress
All our ills.
The traffic stills
And I
Walk by …
Whats in a Name
When a young lady named Miss Grace
Said, “I work hard on the coalface”.
And I said, “you’re a miner?”,
She said, “No! my name is Jemima!
And my cousin’s name it is Grace!”.
K Morris - Poet 