There was a young man named Zeff
Who picked a quarrel with death.
He refused to die
(I can’t think why),
Which led to a row with death!
There Was A Young Man Named Zeff
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Tag Archives: poets
If A Cat Desires Cream
If a cat desires cream
And to attain her dream
Puts her paw
In the candle’s flame,
Who is to blame?
If, desiring more
(But not the flame)
She does the same
Over and over again
Who then is to blame?
The mouse offers cream
To attain his dream
Of a sleek black queen.
Is he then to blame
When she puts her paw
In the Candle’s flame?
In this rhyme bleak
You may your own answer seek
There Was A Young Lady Named Rose
There was a young lady named Rose
Who went walking without any clothes.
A policeman named Michael
Said “it is vital
That you cover your fingers and toes!”.
Shall I Make Something Profound
Shall I make
Something profound
Of an orange on the ground
And a girl who did take
The time to assist
Me when my rucksack spilled?
I shall resist
The temptation to embroider the fact
Of a kind act.
After all, it was nothing profound.
Just an orange on the ground
And a wiff of scent
That did with me stay
When a girl and her man
Went their way.
Birthday
Tomorrow I shall be forty-nine.
There will be wine
No doubt
And I shall go about
With a smile, for I am not fifty yet.
But you can safely bet
That when I reach that half-century stage
I shall conveniently forget
(For memory fails with age),
And on 6 January twenty-nineteen say
“I am 49 today!”.
There Was A Young Lady Named Spink
There was a young lady named Spink
Who composed a letter using invisible ink.
Her correspondent (who was named Black)
Wrote “I regret that I lack
The means to know what you think!”.
A Bird Sang
A bird sang
In the churchyard as I
Passed by.
A thought unbidden sprang
Into my heart.
For all my art
I know that I shall die.
2 Limericks
There was a young man named Dave
Who lived in a draughty old cave.
When his girlfriend Kim
Moved in with him
Her mother did rant and rave!
—
There was a young man named Hyde
Who said “history is on Marx’s side”.
The wheel of history moved on
And Karl Marx is long gone.
As for Hyde, he long ago died.
What Is Guilt?
What is guilt?
‘Tis Macbeth’s hands incarnadine
Turning the green seas red.
‘Tis wine
By lovers spilt
At night’s dead
Hour on quilt.
‘Tis a man’s flushed face
And a girl’s disgrace.
‘Tis a whispering voice
Which says “you had a choice
And chose
To taint the barely opened rose”.
‘Tis a cigarette
Smoked by a kind of lover
To cover
The silence of regret.
There Was A Young Man Named Sun
There was a young man named Sun
Who carried a large shotgun.
He saw a bird
Which, without a word
Shot him, just for fun!
K Morris - Poet 