Tag Archives: Rhyme

Out of Time

My clock’s chime

Is out of time,

Yet I care not

For I see

In my clock

A protest, against modernity.

When A Wicked Young Lady Named White

When a wicked young lady named White
Rang my doorbell at just after midnight,
And I said, “that’s really not acceptable!”,
And she said, “but you’re not respectable!”,
I had to agree with Miss White

Much Poetry Has Been Written

Much poetry has been written
About a country called Great Britain,
Full of antique grandfather clocks
And old maids darning socks,
And miss Marple at her knitting!

I Have Dreamed Many A Dream

I have dreamed many a dream
Where fantasy
Did seem
To be reality.
And I have thought, that I ought
To take care
Lest my dream, turn to nightmare.
For in dreams
All is not what it seems,
And who can fathom
The chasm
That may or may not be
Between a dream,
And  reality?

 

When I Met Young Women At Dice

When I met young women at dice
Who said, “sir, are you into vice?”,
And I said, “i’m not into betting”,
They said, “but, surely you’re not forgetting,
That there are many forms of vice!”.

Sometimes I Think We Poets Obsess Too Much On Grim Death

Sometimes I think we poets obsess
Too much on grim death.
We hear the blackbird sing
And say “the flowers that bloom
In spring,
And this bird, so full of joy,
Time will destroy,
All too soon”.

We obsess
Over the maid
In her white
dress,
And say, “she will fade
Into the eternal night”.

Yet there is much delight
In the maid,
And when, into the night
Poet and maid
fade,
They may leave to posterity,
More than poetry.