When a naughty young lady Known as Lou
Decided to star in a movie most blue,
Me and Fred
Painted her red.
As for Lou, she painted us 2 blue!
Lou and Her Movie
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Tag Archives: poetry blogs
Maiden
Stripping the maiden bare
I leave her.
In my living room.
No sweet scent
For me to repent
Just a frame
Of steel
And plastic,
A bachelor maintains
For drying clothes.
Burning the Candle at Both Ends
When I said to my dear friends,
“I’ve burned the candle at both ends,
By drinking and sinning
With beautiful young women!”.
They said, “that Kevin! He always pretends!”.
Cat
“I’m a cat girl” she said.
Cats enter bed
Where they purr
And sometimes they scratch and bite.
I wonder, on this summer night
Does she delight
With purrs
And bites.
On the Closure of the Railway Bell, 14 Cawnpore Street, Gipsy Hill
I sit at the bar
In the old familiar pub
And touch the wood
Tinged with beers
From bygone years.
Landlords have come and gone
But the pub has continued on.
I recall
With delight
The fire’s warm light.
But it’s a summer evening
And there is no firelight.
To brighten this leaving.
I say goodbye
To the final table
I am unable
To show my eyes
For men don’t cry
Goodtime
“Have you ever been in love”, I said,
After we had been to bed.
“Yes, and he broke my heart”.
I am not rude like some other guy
She saw, she said. And before she left
She offered me more bedtime.
Then, I was left behind
With my art
And the thought
That there ought
To be no more goodtime
There Was a Young Lady of Cameroon
There was a young lady of Cameroon
Who went by the name of Moon.
By the star’s bright light
She would squeal with delight,
But it was over all too soon!
A Tough Young Man Known as Lee
A tough young man known as Lee
Says he wants a word with me,
About a girl called Bland
And our one night stand,
But she only came round for tea!
When I Met a Young Lady Online
When I met a young lady online
Who invited me round for some wine,
I said to her, “Coral,
There will be nothing immoral!”.
She said, “no, but after the wine …”.
I Am Trapped in Time
I am trapped
In time.
My passing rhyme
Must end
When he taps
Me on the shoulder
And says, “its over
My friend”.
And will aliens find
Fragments of poetry
And ponder on rhyme
And fleeting time?
Or will they see
An unintelligible line?
Or perhaps not care
When and where
We humans wrote,
Then cut our throat?
K Morris - Poet 