I met a young lady named Malorie
Whose paintings hang in my local gallery.
Whilst admiring her nude
She called me rude,
So I returned to my local gallery …
My Local Gallery
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Tag Archives: poetry blogs
The Dead Duck
Yesterday I emailed a friend asking whether he fancied a drink on Friday evening. He replied in the affirmative, and went on to say that “Asha has decapitated the duck!”.
I had visions of my friend’s Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy having run amok in Crystal Palace park and attacked a duck, which was now as dead as Monty Python’s Parrot! “Oh god!”, I thought. Then I remembered having bought Asha a squeaky duck from my local Sainsburys …
The Bachelor
If 2 depart
In skirts and heels
At break of day
What will the neighbours say
Of the bachelor man,
And Claire and Miss Anne …?
Mayfair
A beautiful young lady from London’s Mayfair
Has indulged in many a steamy affair.
Priggish Miss Coral
Calls her immoral,
Which is strange as she’s called Claire!
—
A beautiful young lady of London’s Mayfair
Is known by the name of Flair.
Priggish Miss Coral
Calls her immoral.
And I like to visit London’s Mayfair …
Doubtless We Will Discuss
Doubtless we will discuss
Poetry and lust
Over so-so Wine.
Then, in the morning
We will yawn.
You will depart.
And I will smile
For a while.
No forlorn
Heart of mine
Or thine.
Merely a rhyme
And maybe,
A next time.
In the Dark
In the dark
An urban
Fox’s bark
Pierces my heart.
I maintain
The urbane.
Amongst friends.
But, in the end,
The glass is thin
Betwixt me and him.
Acrostic
Provider of pleasure.
Romance isn’t free.
Oldest profession
Some say.
Time has a price
In your brief arms.
The clock jingles.
Under the sheet
They meet.
Eagerness of him.
Some say sin.
Dalliance By Moonlight
As the moon shone bright last night
I spied 2 young women by moonlight.
I said, “this here bed
Has seen many a head.
But this rope is a little tight …”.
Parks and Karl Marx
There was a young man named Parks
Who quoted the works of Karl Marx
To pretty young women,
Who thought of sinning,
Whilst Parks he thought of Karl Marx!
Shadows of the Past
My shadow in front of me.
Leaves fall from a nearby tree.
I think of an old England
I never knew.
Is all I understand
Or maybe half-see
The reality of me?
What is true
When the many/few
Call for Britain’s statues to fall,
And label me merely a reactionary?
K Morris - Poet 