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!
The Vicar’s Daughter
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
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 …
When Dracula Went to a Pub
When Count Dracula went to a pub
In search of some good wholesome grub,
A barmaid named Kelly
Offered him fruit jelly.
But he wanted another kind of grub …
All to Dust
The tree
By the graveyard plot
Has stood, impassively
For years.
Many tears
Have been shed
Over the dead.
This old tree
Will outlast me.
Yet, it to must fall
For the churchyard plot
Calls us all
To dust
Dom
Have you heard of a dominatrix named Nicks
Who is known for her love of sticks?
If you ask how I know,
I heard it from Vicar Joe;
Who is known for his love of sticks …
K Morris - Poet 