As I go
I make footprints in the snow.
The red postbox continues to stand,
A symbol of a vanishing land.
Footprints will go,
Covered by snow
And this dear England of mine,
Is it all in my mind?
Footprints in the Snow
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Tag Archives: poets
Racey Tracy
I know a pretty young lady named Tracy
Who has a reputation for being quite racey.
Dear readers, I must confess
I’ve oft seen her dress.
But rarely when being worn by Miss Tracy …
Polly
When an attractive young lady called Polly
Invited me to indulge in something jolly.
I went round to her house
Where we enjoyed wine and grouse.
And her friend whose name is Holly.
Trite
When a young lady named Miss White
Said, “your poetry it is terribly trite”.
I said, “let me compose
A poem to my rose”.
And I went home alone that night …
On A Chilly Winter’s Evening
On a chilly winter’s night
The song of a bird
I heard
As he sang to me
From a churchyard tree.
Such delight,
And poignancy.
But that was in me.
Stopped
My clock has stopped.
It’s chime
Has ceased.
One day, eternal peace
Shal be forever, mine
And thine.
I Once Knew A Drover From Dover
I once knew a drover from Dover
Who Knitted all his livestock a pullover.
A young lady walking by
Said, with a great sigh,
“Your livestock look daft in that pullover!”.
Sketching
When a young lady watching me at sketching
Said, “sir, I strongly condemn all your letching!”.
I said, “my dear Rose
Please put on your clothes!
As your nakedness it distracts me from sketching!”.
Whilst Lunching At My Gentleman’s Club
Whilst lunching at my gentleman’s club
Which is called the Good Rub.
I met a girl called Spink.
But its not what you think!
As she also cooks good grub!
Red Lights
Day and night
The red light
Does seductively glow,
And men go
In search of love, And lust.
One may find, for a while,
Solace in a girl’s painted smile.
Though some see dust
Behind their lover’s eyes.
But few are wise.
K Morris - Poet 