I once had a lover named Glover
Who said she would have no other.
But I caught her with Moriah
And the entire male voice choir,
And a vicar who knows my mother!
I Once Had a Lover Named Glover
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Lou Who Composed a Poem About Her Shoe
There once was a girl named Lou
Who composed a poem about her shoe.
But as it didn’t quite fit
They said, “change it a bit”.
So Lou changed her poem and shoe!
Girls Splash Cheap Perfume
Girls splash cheap perfume
In a strange bathroom.
Their conversation so low
That he doesn’t know.
What they say.
And soon
Cheap perfume
Scents lonely sheets
Where strangers meet.
Whips and Chains
A young lady with whips and chains
Is well known for her superior brains.
We indulge in conversation
About this great nation,
As I admire that young lady’s brains …!
The Poet
I confess
I undress
Women in my mind.
Some are true lovers
While others
I find
Are the temporary kind.
And my love and lust
Are dust.
Poets die
And leave behind
A part
Of their heart
And mind.
And readers discuss
The loves and lusts
We leave behind,
Be they real
Or the imagined kind.
When a Careless Young Person Named Mole
When a careless young person named Mole
Slipped and fell into an open manhole,
A rat called Matt
Ate his new hat,
And the Devil he swallowed Mole’s soul!
Miss Laugher
When a pretty young lady named Laugher
Asked me to go and bath her,
My wife Kate
Just couldn’t wait
To drown me and pretty Miss Laugher …!
Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed on the World Poetry Reading Series for 28 July 2022
On 28 July, I appeared On Vancouver Co-op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-july-28/.
During my interview, I discussed the recent heatwave in the United Kingdom and read my poem Melting Ice. In addition, I discussed the responsibilities of a poet.
My segment begins approximately 8 minutes into the podcast and runs for about 10 minutes.
I listened back to the show using Google Chrome, but other browsers should also work.
It Rained Last Night
It rained last night.
The wet trees brushed
Against my thirsting flesh.
The delight
Of parched park refreshed
By rain.
Nature
We may try to deny
That Mother Nature is there.
But the bur
On our clothes.
The prick of the rose.
And twigs in our hair.
Show what we know,
That nature is there.
K Morris - Poet 