There was a young priest named Locke
Who did the devil mock.
This caused Satan to howl
In a manner most foul,
Which gave the angels a shock!
There Was A Young Priest Named Locke
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Tag Archives: poets
Too Much Reading
Too much reading
My imagination feeding.
It’s a little after 1 am
When
I hear you hoot,
The night’s flute
So cold and so clear
Instilling a dull fear.
Somewhere a TV or radio burbles on,
Then owl and noise are gone.
I drink in the silence
Then sleep sets me free.
But no
It is not so
For I dream
A dream in early December,
Of what
I don’t remember,
For the individual man
And his dreams are soon forgot.
There Was A Young Lady Named Clare
There was a young lady named Clare
Who bought a juicy pear.
Some say that she bought two
But that can not be true
For I sold her my final pear
Shoppers
I pass the lights
And think on the delights
Inside
Where shoppers hide
From the cold outside
Where people hurry by
And do not catch another’s eye.
What man will glorify the ethereal
When there is a material
Girl with perfect skin
Who beckons him in
To her store?
Those who are discreet
Do not ask for a receipt.
They know the power
Of the shower
And how scent lingers
On fingers.
But one can not forever hide
From the cold outside
There Was A Young Lady Named Kate
There was a young lady named Kate
Who always came home very late.
Her mother looked grave
While her father did rave
At his daughter for coming home late!
There Was A Young Lady Named Louise
There was a young lady named Louise
Who’s pleasure it was to please.
I asked her for honey
(which she found extremely funny),
So she gave me a hive of bees!
Maiden Cough
The hay
Was soft.
In the loft
They lay.
She coughed
Her final maiden cough
That day
There Was A Young Man Named Howl
There was a young man named Howl
Who owned a tawny owl.
Each night it would hoot
As he played the flute,
Which made his neighbours scowl!
Bent Magnets And Bad Pennies
Bent magnets attract the attention
Of bad pennies,
Although I know
Not which came first,
Nor which is worst
Did You Hear The Owl?
“Did you hear the owl?” I said, as we sat in my living room.
(It will be over soon.
The prey caught
I thought).
“No” you replied.
Twice more the bird cried
But you heard
Not a word
He said.
The bed
Was hot
And the owl you did not see
Forgot by me.
K Morris - Poet 