There was a young lady named Lia
Who worked as a social engineer.
She designed a towerblock so high
That it almost touched the sky.
But she wouldn’t live in it, no fear!
There Was A Young Lady Named Lia
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Tag Archives: poetry
There Was A Young Lady Named Hocking
There was a young lady named Hocking
Who hung up her Christmas stocking.
I regret that Santa Claus forgot her
(He left not even a pear).
And someone stole her stocking!
—
There was a young lady named Hocking
Who hung up her Christmas stocking.
I regret that Santa Claus forgot her
(He left not even a pear).
Her language was truly shocking!
This Ticking Clock
This ticking clock calms.
No alarms
Just the steady tick tock
Of this battery driven clock.
It is growing dark outside.
I shall put aside
My pride
And think on the tick tock
Of the ever present clock
That does for now measure
My work and leisure.
An Elderly Writer Named Perks
An elderly writer named Perks
Published his collected works.
They where beautifully bound
And contained wisdom profound.
But in bookshelves the woodworm lurks
Words Caper
Words caper
On virtual paper,
As my thoughts one another chase,
Only to be lost in cyberspace.
‘Else my words on pages
Moulder for ages.
But it is not the case
That cyberspace
Does forget,
And dusty tomes, may be read yet.
There Was A Young Lady Named Leigh
There was a young lady named Leigh
Who got stung by a rather large bee.
When they said “does it hurt bad?”
She turned quite mad
And climbed a fine old oak tree!
The Train Passenger
So shy
I thought.
But I
Had bought
A ticket to a destination
And the ride
To the station
Was (I think you will agree)
Trouble free.
At any rate, you took it in your stride
There Was A Young Lady Named Nell
There was a young lady named Nell
Who lived in a prison cell.
She crossed a line
While drunk on cheap wine
And was sentenced by a judge called Snell.
—
There was a young lady named Nell
Who lived in a prison cell.
She wrote many a rhyme
To pass the time
But her poems they didn’t sell.
—
There was a young lady named Nell
Who lived in a prison cell.
When I asked her “why?”
She winked her eye
And said “I like it very well!”.
Short Story
Most of you will know me as a poet. I have, however also published a number of short stories, one of which, “Run For Your Life” is reproduced below. Please note that “Run For Your Life” contains strong language. If you are offended by such language you may wish to skip the below.
“Run For Your Life” can be found in “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00QQVJC7E.
—
Wanker flirting with that barmaid like that. He says that he was just having a laugh but I’m sick of it. Everytime we go out it’s the same
“Oh its just a laugh Lucy. Just chill out, get a life”.
“I’ll get a life without you” I told him as I threw my vodka and coke in his face. He was furious but give him his due he didn’t retaliate. He’s a womanising arsehole but he has never been violent.
Its dark walking home. Still its only 20 minutes from the pub to my flat. He’d better not think of coming back there, tosser! Shit its raining. I’ll be drenched. I new that I should have called a cab but I was so het up, not thinking straight.
That blokes been following me for the past few minutes. Don’t panic Lucy it’s a coincidence. He just happens to be going in the same direction as you.
I can’t see his face. That hat pulled down almost hiding his eyes, I don’t like it. Christ he’s walking fast, almost running. Keep calm he just wants to get home out of the rain the same as you. But he’s running straight at you. Fuck the alley’s empty just this weirdo and me. Scream, call for help. But he hasn’t done anything, he’s only running. Shout anyway it will scare him away.
“Help, help someone please help”.
There are no houses around here. No one can hear me. I shouldn’t have gone down this short cut, It saves 5 minutes but its taken me away from the main street. Oh Christ why didn’t I call a cab. Please, please god help me. He’s running now. I can here him calling for me to stop. You must be fucking joking mate I’m not stopping for you! I can’t run in these heels. Off they come. I haven’t been to the gym for ages. God I’m so out of condition I’m wheezing like an old man. My chest’s killing me and I’ve a stitch in my right side. Must rest. Can’t rest he’ll catch you. Must stop for a moment. I can’t. Oh fuck he’s still gaining on me I wish I’d kept going to the gym with the girls. Please, please no he’s almost on top of me. Run, Run Lucy, must get away. I can see the street lights up ahead. Just one more spurt and your back in civilisation.
He’s waving. What the hell does he expect me to do, I’m not stopping! Oh Christ he’s caught up with me. He’s got something in his hand and he’s pointing it at me. God is it a gun? Why me?
“You left this on the bar. God lady you where in a hurry. I thought I’d never catch up with you. This is your mobile isn’t it?”
If Each Glass Told A Tale
If each glass told a tale
We would turn pale
And take
Care
To avoid their
Impassive stare.
Many a glass would break.
Such an easy mistake
To make
To catch a mirror, with an elbow
And watch it go
A-spinning,
And see our sinning
In fragments on the floor,
To be spoken of no more
By the all-seeing eye …
K Morris - Poet 