He did confess,
That a short
Dress.
And African waist beads
Are easily bought
For all needs
Can be traced
In the market place.
African Waist Beads
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Whilst Walking Through Dear Old London Town
Whilst walking through dear old London town
I met a girl wearing a nightgown.
When I said, “aint it funny
How the bees they make honey?”,
She slipped right out of her nightgown!
When A Young Lady Wearing High-Heels
When a young lady wearing high-heels
Said, “you don’t know how it feels
To wear these shoes,
Whilst drunk on booze”.
I said, “give me back my high-heels!”.
My Poem “Dog Bed”, Included in November’s Virtual Dodo
I am pleased to announce that my poem “Dog Bed” has been included in November’s Virtual Dodo, https://dodovidpoets.blogspot.com/2020/11/virtualdodo-4-november-2020.html.
“Dog Bed” has also been included in “Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology, 2019/2020”, https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/croydon-poets/croydon-poetry-hour-anthology-201920/paperback/product-rjpqzd.html
Whilst Climbing Up A Very Steep Hill
Whilst climbing up a very steep hill
I met with a girl named Jill.
When I said, “where is Jack?”,
She gave me such a whack
That I rolled back down that hill!
I Know A Young Lady With A Fetish
I know a young lady with a fetish
Who is famous for her love of lettuce.
She keeps but one sock
On top of her clock.
But now lets discuss that young lady’s fetish!
A Poem from My Collection “Light and Shade; Serious (and Not so Serious) Poems”
The below poem, “On Hearing the Tick Tock of the Clock”, can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”:
On hearing the tick tock
Of the clock
On the wall,
I know not
What to write,
For the clock
Says it all.
Obtaining Immortality Through One’s Verse
A poet by the name of Heather
Said, “my poetry it will live forever!”.
I regret her verse
It grows steadily worse.
And she’s just turned 300, has Heather!
Soho
Whilst walking through a place known as Soho
I met a girl who you may know.
She wore but one spectacle
And is not that respectable.
And I often like to visit old Soho …
Its Quiet
Its quiet
In the early morning,
‘Ere the riot
Of traffic noise, destroys
The peace.
Our joys
Are brief.
Life’s toys
Distract from grief.
Yet, underneath
All these toys, and empty noise,
We know, all this, must cease.
K Morris - Poet 