“I am sex positive”, she said”,
As she lay upon the bed.
She teased
And pleased.
And made his day.
This was all okay,
As she
Was truly
“Sex positive. While he,
Paid a little fee
Sex Positive
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Hot Buttered Toast
As I strolled home at a little after midnight
I met with a young lady dressed in white.
She sat on a post
Eating delicious hot buttered toast.
And she offered me some at just after midnight …
I Think Of You
I think of you
In your low shoe,
And short dress.
A girl’s caress.
Some moments of delight
And then, good night.
The Past
Perhaps one ought
Not to look back.
Yet I walk
That old, familiar track.
I pass the flats,
(Once a bustling, hustling pub).
And remember idle talk
Over Sunday grub.
Having passed the flats
I retrace my tracks.
For one can not go back,
To what is long since gone.
A Bird On The Wing
Below are 2 slightly different versions of a poem I composed earlier today.
—
A bird on the wing
Is such a temporary thing.
Though, when it dies,
In poetry, it survives.
—
A bird on the wing
Is such a temporary thing.
Though, when it dies,
It’s poem may survive.
When A Young Lady Named Shand
When a young lady named Shand
Said, “your wish is my command!”.
And I said, “iron my shirt”.
She said, “you are no flirt!”.
And whacked me with her hand!
Ordinary Tea
Conversation over ordinary tea.
She, young and slim
Sits next to him
On his ageing settee.
For money has been spent.
And she has her rent.
The Fox
Both, by his fire.
She tall and slim.
His desire
To sin.
A fox’s bark
Pierces the dark.
And says, “my friend,
All ends in dust”.
When A Young Lady Swimming In A Lake
When a young lady swimming in a lake
Said, “I wonder, would you care to partake?”.
It was so very cold
But I, being most bold,
Jumped straight into that cold lake to partake!
December Snow
A typical, December day.
The sun has stopped
Away,
And the temperature has dropped.
The forecasters say
There may
Be snow.
I well remember the December
Snow.
And playing on frozen pond.
But oh, so long Ago!
And I shall grow
Old. and remember December
Snow.
We count the cost
Once things are lost.
And the foolish, wishing to sunbathe,
Pray for the coming heatwave.
K Morris - Poet 