When a scantily clad Miss Lyme
Said, “is this your first time?”,
A great poet I know
Said, “me and Miss flow,
We spend much time in rhyme”.
When a Scantily Clad Miss Lyme
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Tag Archives: poets
My Collection of Short Stories, The Suspect and Other Talles is Free in the Kindle Store for the Next 5 Days
I am pleased to announce that my collection of short stories, The Suspect and Other Tales is free in the Kindle store for the next 5 days. To download your free copy please visit this link, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Suspect-other-tales-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00PKPTQ0U.
If you do read The Suspect and Other Tales do please consider leaving a review.
Many thanks. Kevin
Pam
A young lady who is truly divine
Came round to mine for some wine.
Her name it is Pam.
Now she’s pushing a pram.
I wonder, will the baby like wine?
Another Kind of Dust
When young women play
With rakes who pay
Them in bright dust,
A few must
Find another kind
Of dust
Occupies their mind.
A Most Enterprising Young Lady Named Maddy
A most enterprising young lady named Maddy
Is looking for a rich sugar daddy.
When I had money
I was her honey.
But now I’ve been dumped by Maddy …
Nesting Boxes
I recall the nesting box
On my grandfather’s shed.
Blue Tits laid their eggs.
Some grew, and flew
Away.
January seems dead.
Yet, in the churchyard birds
Sing.
And, come the spring
Birds will lay in boxes
To the delight
Of young children.
And foxes bark
In the depths of night.
A Most Forgetful Young Lady Named Lou
A most forgetful young lady named Lou
Has a habit of losing a shoe.
My dear old wife
Is waving a knife,
And my dog he’s found Lou’s shoe …
There Once Was a Short Sighted Hairdresser
There once was a short sighted hairdresser
Who confessed to the great Father Confessor.
He said to her, “Bess,
It is right to confess.
But you are addressing my Welsh dresser!
Miss Heart and My Art
I know a young lady named Heart
Who poses nude for all my art.
She is petite and pretty
And lives in the city,
And the vicar he loves my art …
When Young Men Find Delight
When young men find delight
Under a red bedspread
With girls who pass through
How many of them
Consider how cold
Is the hold of gold?
Time runs on
And youth turns to age.
Some still engage
With girls who pass through,
But all age,
And in time, are gone.
K Morris - Poet 