A young lady whose name is Bess
Is truly a veritable tigress.
When we met last night,
By the moon’s sweet light …
But my readers can guess the rest
A Young Lady Whose Name Is Bess
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Tag Archives: Rhyme
The Coming Gale
Last night the rain
Came,
And the wind
To
Which almost blew
Me off my human feet.
Windblown
I took refuge at home,
From the gale.
Sheep continue to speak
Of progress.
But the wise turn pale
For they know
That the gale
May blow
Humanity off it’s feet.
Discretion
When we did meet
You were indiscreet
And spoke of a good time,
In a foreign clime
With a girl who …
But I shall not repeat,
For I, (unlike you),
Can, sometimes, be discreet!
She Laid Her Head
She laid her head
On his comfortable bed,
And did tell
Of a stairwell
And a man, who never paid.
She stayed
For a while,
And made him smile,
As they drank champagne,
Her head
On his comfortable bed.
There was no pain,
For he was not of that kind.
Though, in her mind
It may have seemed the same.
Maybe he will see her again,
And there will be champagne
Or red, or white wine.
He paid, so its fine.
Of a stairwell she did tell.
He hopes it was not the same.
A Youngish Lady Dressed In High-Heels
A youngish lady dressed in high-heels
Said, “you don’t know how it feels
To walk in these tight stiletto shoes,
Whilst very drunk on cheap booze,
And time, all our youths he steals!”.
I Confess
I confess
That I have sought
For beauty
Under a dress
And thought
That I had found
Beauty
Profound
In sighs
And yielding thighs.
Yet, many a time
I confess
That I did find
Beneath that dress
Her perfect skin
And the figure slim,
But no beauty of mind.
Sweet Shop
Like a bull
In a china shop
I have run amok.
And have been full
Of the sweet,
And found I could
Eat
More, yet
It was not love,
And I can not pretend
That it did not end
In regret.
I have Desired The Fire
I have had a desire
For fire
And striven to obtain
The flame
But when the fire
I did obtain,
I have been left,
Listening to the rain.
A Pretty Young Lady Named Flo
A pretty young lady named Flo
Has a boyfriend whose name is Joe.
He is over 6 foot 3
And doesn’t know anything about me,
Or the arrangement I have with Flo!
Were I To Compose A Poem About A Rose
Were I to compose
A poem about a rose
Some would see young women,
And, maybe, find therein
A reference to sin.
I shall, therefore, suppose
Not a rose
But the fruit
Of Paradise,
Which is, as the reader knows
At the root
Of love, and vice.
K Morris - Poet 