Under spring sky
I touched blossom
Temporary as I.
Under Spring Sky
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: Rhyme
I Met a Young Nun in December
I met a young nun in December
Who gave me a night to remember.
A very old monk
Snored in his bunk,
While that nun sang hymns in December
Floral Clock
A clock without hands
Encircled by flowers
Holds command
Over poets and flowers.
We know not
The hour
But our clock
Will stop.
(The above poem was inspired by the floral clock in the Walled Garden of Woolton Woods, https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/6911662).
Grass
Sweet scent
Of new-mown grass.
Youth spent
In thoughtless play.
Many pass
That self-same way,
Savouring grass
While it lasts.
A Fan of Edgar Alan Poe
An old lady I happen to know
Is a fan of Edgar Alan Poe.
She owns a black cat,
But that’s enough about that,
As Usher just fell on my toe!
Relaxing in Bed
As I lay on a brand new bed
With a most beautiful young lady in red,
A girl named Claire
Said, “excuse me sir,
But do you intend to buy that bed?”.
The Key to My Clock
The key to my clock
Is cold to my hand.
I can command
My old clock
To cease it’s chime.
But no rhyme stops
The sickle’s chop.
My Guest Post on Beetleypete
I am grateful to Pete Johnson, (beetleypete), for kindly publishing this guest post by me, https://beetleypete.com/2023/04/01/guest-post-kevin-morris-2/. Please do pop over to read and comment.
There Once Was a Man with an Easel
There once was a man with an easel
Who made friends with a wise old weasel.
He painted great lakes
And big juicy steaks,
While the man he would hold that easel.
Moat and His Stoat
There once was an actor named Moat
Who kept a stoat in a boat.
When it ran up the dress
Of a waspish critic called Bess,
The audience clapped Moat and his stoat!
K Morris - Poet 