I open my window
And listen to bird calls
As rain falls
To the garden below.
This is the timeless time
Of nature’s passing rhyme.
But work calls
And I must go.
Yet the fall
Of the rain
And the bird’s call
Remain
Open Window
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Marr’s Scandolous Memoir
I know a young lady named Marr
Who is writing a most scandalous memoir.
She has just turned 22
And has already been through
Countless ripped dresses and tonight’s torn bra …
Breath
The cold takes my breath.
I kick a branch away
And think of death.
Winter will not stay.
The wind through branches sighs
Then dies away.
And I will lie
As that bough
Lies now
While birds sing
In spring.
The Vicar’s Daughter
When the vicar’s daughter named Miss Lee
Said, “life is merely a tragic comedy!”
And she danced quite nude,
Which the congregation found rude!
I made her a nice cup of tea!
Time’s Halter
Tired.
Not inspired
To write tonight.
Light
Grows dim.
Seconds pass.
Pub and friends beckon.
The cheerful lights
Shut out the night.
But all dims
And the dark descends
In the end
Yet I laugh
And pass my time
In rhyme and friends
No-one can stop
The ever present clock
For Time’s halter
Holds us all
In thrall
Yet still we pretend …
The Lost Hat
When a young lady who visited my flat
Said, “I think I have lost my hat!”
And I said, “after that booze
You lost more than your shoes!”
She said, “just give me back my hat …!”
Dash
Sometimes I dash
Along the churchyard path.
But those who sleep
Have no appointments to keep.
And I pass by
The graveyard plot
Until I do not.
Yet I must
My final appointment keep
With worms and dust.
And the earth
Will continue to turn
Without heed or need
Of me
London Encounter
Walking along the familiar street
I meet
A lady who asks me
For £1
So that she
Can get to bank.
I give her the pound
And laugh at her story.
I receive no thanks
But get asked for £5
(Which I deny I have).
I go home
Thinking on philosophy,
Lies,
And the fickleness of charity.
But who
Exploited who
I wonder
As I sit alone
At home
Writing poetry …
(Note: “Bank” refers to bank station on the London underground).
Dodgy Geezer
I met a young lady Named Louisa
Who said, “you are a dodgy geezer!”
I said, “I’m not dodgy,
But perhaps a little podgy!”,
Which tickled that young lady named Louisa!
Aphrodite’s Nightie
My girlfriend whose name is Aphrodite
Went and bought a see-through nightie.
Her friend Miss Echo
Is fond of Prosecco –
And the vicar has her nightie …
K Morris - Poet 