When the squire
Sitting by his fire,
Rang the bell,
Who can tell
Whether the servant, summoned by his call
Had any desire
For the great hall to fall.
How easy ’tis to condemn
Past men.
But tell me
would you reject
The established imperfect
For a future that can never be?
A good article on “How to Start Writing Poetry”, https://www.writingforward.com/poetry-writing/how-to-start-writing-poetry.
On my way back home last night
I saw a young woman in white.
She stood under a street lamp
And her stilettoed feet she did stamp,
For it was cold last night!
I keep
The key
For a time
In a tray.
Will people seek
For the key
When I go away
And, perchance, finding this rhyme
Think on old Father Time
And me?
Flirts in skirts
And stiletto heels.
As eels
We slip
Hip against hip.
Shall I confide
Or hide
In verse?
Oh how terse
Are flirts in Skirts
And heels.
And time, I recall
Steals all.
Awaking as the clock struck midnight
I saw a young woman in white.
When I said, “are you a vampire?”
She replied, “no, I’m the squire.
And this dress is far too tight!
when a young lady whose name is Rose
Composed a poem about crows,
A priest called Paul
Said, “how angels do fall!”,
Which puzzled that young lady Rose.
When a young lady whose name is Skinner
Invites me round for dinner,
We drink lots of wine
But we never dine,
So I’m growing ever thinner!
—
A young lady whose name is White
Says one day she might.
I’m waiting still
And wonder will …
Do you think she might?
—
On my way through the churchyard at midnight
I met a young woman in white.
When I said, “who are you?”
She replied, “believe me, its true,
I’m a girl who dresses in white!
When a poet whose name is Rose
Composed a poem about Toes,
A critic called Paul
Said, “that is no poem at all!”,
So she bopped him right on his nose!
In springtime
Lovers lose themselves amongst wild roses,
While the poet composes
A rhyme
About lovers who, in springtime
Lose themselves amongst roses wild
K Morris - Poet 