Tag Archives: Rhyme

The Mad, Sad Dance

The below is dedicated to the poet Ernest Christopher Dowson, who sought solace in the arms of the world’s oldest profession, and died young, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_Dowson.

Can the kiss, paid for
From a whore
Be sweet?
Can the feet
Of a girl
That whirl
In a sad
Mad dance
Of pseudo romance
Forever seeking the main chance,
Bring real joy
To the man who refuses to leave
The boy
Behind?

I grieve
For the man who refuses to leave
The boy behind.
Yet, if he where strong
In his mind
He would abandon the long
Hours
Spent
In gathering flowers
He will never possess,
Repent,
And seek the caress
Of a true lover,
Or the consolation of poetry.

Last Night I Met A Pretty Young Witch

Last night I met a pretty young witch
Who said, “I know how to get rich”.
I took her to bed
But, by morning she’d fled,
With my wallet, which made that witch rich!

Early Wednesday Morning Humour

When a young lady named Ann
Called me a very bad man,
I said, “I haven’t done anything yet!”,
She said, “that I very much regret!”.
She’s a naughty young lady is Ann!

When a young lady named Leigh
Said that she enjoys reading poetry,
I suggested a hot date
With Leigh and Miss Kate,
As my favourite number is 3!

When a young lady named Joan
Hid behind an ancient gravestone,
A corpse passing by
Said, with a sigh,
“Joan, I wish to be alone!”.

When a teenager eating icecream
Knocked at my door on Halloween
And said, “trick or treat?”,
I revealed my clawed feet,
And I screamed an unearthly scream!

Last Night I Found In My Double Bed

Last night I found in my double bed
A young woman who was lacking a head.
When I said, “its not yet Halloween”,
She gave a most terrible, piercing scream,
Which was strange, as she had no head!

There Once Was A Young Man Named Niels

There once was a young man named Niels
Who was fond of girls in high heels,
But the parish priest called Paul
Knew that wouldn’t do at all,
So he confiscated those girls and their heels!

On Hearing The Clatter of Stilettos Late At Night

On hearing the clatter
Of sstilletos late at night,
I think on girls who flatter
And bring delight.
And the price
Of vice
To those who grow old
In sin.