The below poem, “On Hearing the Tick Tock of the Clock”, can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”:
On hearing the tick tock
Of the clock
On the wall,
I know not
What to write,
For the clock
Says it all.
A poet by the name of Heather
Said, “my poetry it will live forever!”.
I regret her verse
It grows steadily worse.
And she’s just turned 300, has Heather!
Whilst walking through a place known as Soho
I met a girl who you may know.
She wore but one spectacle
And is not that respectable.
And I often like to visit old Soho …
Its quiet
In the early morning,
‘Ere the riot
Of traffic noise, destroys
The peace.
Our joys
Are brief.
Life’s toys
Distract from grief.
Yet, underneath
All these toys, and empty noise,
We know, all this, must cease.
When a young lady skating on thin ice
Said, “sir, I am really not into vice!”.
I tried to believe her,
But she was a deceiver.
As her skates broke through that thin ice!
A man in need of company.
A girl who is free,
For a fee.
So many things can be bought.
I know one can buy
The finest art.
But the heart
Of an escort
Is never bought.
A musical young lady named White
Likes to visit me at midnight.
I’ve often seen
Her fine tambourine,
As we play together at midnight.
When a young lady with a bushy beard
Said, “sir, your conduct is really quite weird!”.
I said, “my dear Lou
That may well be true.
But why is that shoe in your beard?”.
When an innocent young lady named Miss May
Met with a most wicked old roue,
Her mother said to her, “beware,
Lest you end up like Claire!”.
And the roue said, “we meet again May!”.
Last night, whilst out on the town
I met a young lady named Brown.
Awaking in the early morning,
With much stretching and yawning,
I found neither my wallet or Brown!
K Morris - Poet 