A man who is a terrible sinner
Came round to mine for his dinner.
His name being Paul
He ate it all.
As for me? I grew much thinner!
A Man Who is a Terrible Sinner
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
In Early December
In early December
November’s leaves still adorn
The woodland lawn.
Man’s pattern is made
In light and shade.
But the gardener’s rake
Rakes all leaves.
A Fallen Tree
On 3 December, I published this poem, https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/12/03/i-passed-a-log/. Below is a slightly reworked version of my composition entitled A Fallen Tree:
A fallen tree
Spoke to me
On a
December day.
Once it stood
In ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder
And I ever older.
I Would Rather Delve
I would rather delve
Into dusty bookshelves.
There are other pleasures,
But the treasures
Of literature stay
While a girl’s smile
Soon fades away.
Yet, literature has no arms
And, on a December day
Young women’s charms
May tempt me away
From my dust covered books
To girl’s who’s looks
Must fade to dust,
Though today they may play.
I Met a Young Lady Named Marge
I met a young lady named Marge
Who posts lots of ads for massage.
And when I got there
A police constable called Claire
Charged me and Marge on a barge!
I Passed a Log
I passed a log
With my dog
On a December day.
Once it stood
In this ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder,
And I ever older.
As I Strolled Home One Dark December Night
As I strolled home one dark December night
I met a young lady dressed in white.
Her skirt being real short
I thought that I ought
To lend her my coat that cold night …!
On Observing a Traffic Jam
Observing a traffic jam
I am amazed
And give due praise
To this idol
From the bible
That we call progress.
For progress
Does redress
All our ills.
The traffic stills
And I
Walk by …
Whats in a Name
When a young lady named Miss Grace
Said, “I work hard on the coalface”.
And I said, “you’re a miner?”,
She said, “No! my name is Jemima!
And my cousin’s name it is Grace!”.
When I Met a Young Lady Online
When I met a young lady online
Who goes by the name of Divine,
And she called me her honey,
And she asked me for money,
I didn’t swallow that young lady’s line …!
K Morris - Poet 