As I strolled by a crystal clear stream
A young lady offered me strawberries and cream.
When I said, “why are you nude?”.
She said, “surely you are no prude!
Besides, you know this is only a dream!”.
He sees the mind behind
Those stilettos,
And her so short clothes.
There is bliss
In her kiss
For him.
Seeing her heart
He ponders on art.
And what is sin.
When a young lady drunk on strong gin
Said, “young women are all full of sin!”.
I said, “I’ve often seen you fall”.
But that girl simply could not recall.
Which was down, I think to the gin!
A girl’s innocence so oft attracts.
Her guilelessness
Does distract.
But, if she does, finally, undress.
Oft, ‘tis over, More or less.
When I met a rather pretty little miss
And I said, “please, give me a kiss!”.
Her boyfriend called Ted
Said, “you are dead!”.
So I didn’t stick around for that kiss!
As I go
I make footprints in the snow.
The red postbox continues to stand,
A symbol of a vanishing land.
Footprints will go,
Covered by snow
And this dear England of mine,
Is it all in my mind?
I know a pretty young lady named Tracy
Who has a reputation for being quite racey.
Dear readers, I must confess
I’ve oft seen her dress.
But rarely when being worn by Miss Tracy …
When a young lady named Miss White
Said, “your poetry it is terribly trite”.
I said, “let me compose
A poem to my rose”.
And I went home alone that night …
On a chilly winter’s night
The song of a bird
I heard
As he sang to me
From a churchyard tree.
Such delight,
And poignancy.
But that was in me.
My clock has stopped.
It’s chime
Has ceased.
One day, eternal peace
Shal be forever, mine
And thine.
K Morris - Poet 