When a young lady whose name was Claire
Got eaten by a rather large brown bear,
Her poor boyfriend Guy
Said, with a sigh,
“I guess that’s the end of our affair …”.
Claire Who Was Eaten by a Rather Large Brown Bear
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
The Ageing Rake (Working Title)
When I was young
I flung
Myself at fleeting pleasure.
I thought
Love could be bought
And heeded not
The ticking clock.
Now, at leisure
I pen rhyme
To passing time,
To lust,
And dust,
And clocks
That stop.
There Was a Young Lady Named Mairead
There was a young lady named Mairead
Who was employed by the fire brigade.
A fireman called Rose
Lent her his hose.
He was generous like that to Mairead …!
I Enter the Graveyard
I enter the graveyard
Where men forget regret
While the living
Forget their eternal
Bed is made
In waiting grave
And choose to lose
Their day
In play
With technology,
Which makes none free
Of the eternal grave.
Murry’s Hot Curry
There was a young man named Murry
Who fell into a very hot curry.
When they said, “are you okay!”.
He said, “it’s a cold day!
But I’m hot here in this curry!”.
Commuter Train
I sat alone
On a train
In early morning.
When a young woman on her phone
Said, “are you still with your friend?”
The memory remains.
A couple yawning
In early morning.
And 2 strangers on a commuter train.
After Death
I pass by graves
On a rain soaked day.
I know those below
Do not regret the wet.
I relish the fresh
Scents of this passing day
For after my death
I will know
No rain below.
Wednesday Morning Humour
There was a young lady named Michelle
Who fell down a very deep well.
When they said, “are you okay!”,
She said, “here I will stay,
As I like this well very well!”.
—
I know a young lady named Mar
Who is known for losing her bra.
Her friend miss Lou
Often loses a shoe.
As for me? its my favourite bar …!
As the Season of Halloween Rapidly Approaches
As the season of Halloween rapidly approaches
I meet many young women wearing cockroaches.
When I ask, “are you a witch?”,
They say, “no, we are very rich!
Don’t you know its expensive wearing cockroaches!”.
Progress
Leaves turn brown
‘Ere they fall
To waiting ground.
I heard
A bird’s
Alarm call.
Autumn will become
Winter. The sun
Will burn out.
Some still shout
Of human progress
While leaves fall.
K Morris - Poet 