The charm
Of a girl’s bare arm
Says far more
Than the hardest hardcore.
The Charm Of A Girl’s Bare Arm
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Tag Archives: poets
When We Die
When we die
I wonder where all our lust
Love and hate Goes?
Who knows?
But methinks
That he who drinks
From Hades stream
Is lost in a dreamless dream
With other dust.
3
There was no tea
Just those 2 and me
Making 3.
We 3
did play
A game.
One name
I remember, though the day
And date
Is long forgot.
The evening was not hot,
and they left late.
And I remember the game
But not her name.
When A Pretty Young Miss
When a pretty young miss
Went in search of a kiss
Her sister Ling
Said, “men want only one thing,
So stay at home young miss …”.
—
When a pretty young miss
Went in search of a kiss
Her sister Ling
Said, “love does sting
So be careful who you kiss …”.
When A Young Lady Who’s Name Is Lin
When a young lady who’s name is Lin
Went in search of sin
A man most dissolute
Played on his flute
Which pleased that young lady Lin.
When We Undress
When we undress
We must
Perforce lose
Skin. But who will confess
That he does choose
To indulge in lust
And sin?
There Was A Young Lady Called Heather
There was a young lady called Heather
Who, wishing to live forever
Received a brain transplant
From a maiden aunt
Which made her terribly clever!
—
There was a young lady called Heather
Who, wishing to live forever
Received a brain transplant
From a biker aunt,
So now she dresses in leather!
Birthday Balloons
Birthday balloons are here still
Though the cards are no longer on display.
How long will
Balloons stay
Held up by gas
Until, at last
They deflate, and sink to rest?
‘Tis best
To put them away.
Yet they
Remain on display
But the pretend
Will descend
One fine day.
The Wakeful Pleasure Seeker
Lying awake
I take
Stock, as the tick tock
Of the bedside clock
Does measure
all pleasure
And pain.
The joy I gain
From Sue or Lou
Passing through
Pausing only too …
A girl’s discarded shoe
Thrust, carelessly under the bed
Speaks of lust
Long since dead.
The dust
Will have its way
Tomorrow or today.
There Was A Young Lady Called Pearl
There was a young lady called Pearl
Who’s hair refused to curl.
So, in frustration
She emailed the nation,
And set the press in a whirl!
K Morris - Poet 