When a naughty young lady named Miss Lina
Decided to steal my battered old Ford Cortina,
A policeman called Guy
Said, “I’d rather die,
Than be seen driving that battered old Cortina!”.
Lina the Car Thief
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Whilst Drinking the Finest Wine Over Dinner
Whilst drinking the finest wine over dinner
I was approached by a beautiful sinner.
She said, “will you join me
For delicious hot crumpet and tea?”.
I said, “I’ve not yet finished dinner!”.
Valentine’s Day
Valentine’s day.
He would propose
With a rose,
But the government does say,
“Stay away
From your lover.
On Valentine’s day!
Its true that you
May infect one another.
And if you do,
Not your romance cease
The police
Will issue a fine
for breech of lockdown!
You may your sorrows drown
Alone, at home
In beer or fine wine.
But do not go online
For there you will find
Young women who will, if the price be right,
Keep you snug and warm, on this Valentine’s night …”.
If You Hear A Wicked Rumour
If you hear a wicked rumour
About an extremely beautiful young perfumer,
By the name of Miss White,
And what we did last night.
Remember, its just a wicked rumour!
—
If you hear a wicked rumour
About an extremely beautiful young perfumer,
By the name of Miss White
And what we did last night.
Remember, she’s a beautiful young perfumer …
The Wind in the Tree
As I
Pass by
A tree
I hear the wind,
And ponder
On my mortality.
And wonder,
How many see
In wind and tree,
Their own mortality.
Naked Poetry
When a young lady said to me,
Kevin, are you fond of naked poetry?”.
I said, “my dear Heather
It is such cold weather.
So please provide lots of hot tea!”.
Miss Spink’s Kink
When a young lady named Miss Spink
Said, “sir, have you seen my kink?”.
That terrible old killjoy Clair
Said, “its in her hair”.
But Spink, she gave me a wink!
February Snow
Walking through the churchyard snow
I think
On those below.
Footprints in the February snow
Soon will go.
But ink
On a page
May still engage
Though the poet is gone.
His words live on.
Else they go,
As does the February snow.
As I Sat Busily at My Writing
As I sat busily at my writing
With my beautiful young friend Miss Whiting,
She gave me a smile
And said, “in a while,
Let us do something far more exciting …”.
Winter Bird
I heard a bird
Flap, in winter’s air.
He will fly,
I know not where.
While I
Shall go
In Winter’s snow.
Does he know
His journey’s end?
And what of thee
And me
My friend?
K Morris - Poet 