There once was a bishop known as Ted
Who, being found with his mistress in bed
Said, “if I had time
I would most certainly resign!
But its so very comfortable in this bed!”
There Once Was a Bishop Known as Ted
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Tag Archives: rhyming poetry
Temptation
Sometimes when loneliness or aching lust
Becomes too much
I crave a woman’s touch,
For in her arms I forget
All my regret,
And that I am dust.
At other times
I take refuge in rhymes
From poets long gone.
Books have charms
But a girl’s soft arms
And her scent often tempts
Me – sometimes into poetry …
Gwen Who Works in a Dodgy Gambling Den
I know a young lady named Gwen
Who works in a dodgy gambling den.
When she spins the wheel
All the money she steals,
So she’s loaded is my girlfriend Gwen …!
So I’m dating that young lady Gwen!
Lost Youth
On a spring day
Girls in short dresses
Progress by.
Old men sigh
Finding their mind
Turn to past progress
And the truth
That youth
Is fleeting as flowers.
Daisy Chains
I saw daisies in spring grass
And thought of the past
When I first made my chains
Unaware of coming care.
Our acts forge a chain
For good or bad.
When I was a lad
I took daisies freely
Innocent of what would come to be.
I have picked so many spring flowers.
And I have learned
That youthful hours
Can never return
And the chain I made
May grow heavier with age.
The Beauty of Dawn
There was a young lady named Dawn
Who danced nude on the vicarage lawn.
The vicar’s wife Hocking
Found it most shocking
And the vicar he studied Dawn’s form.
In Our Youth
In our youth
We search for fairies.
Then when we reach maturity
We see the truth.
There are no fairies
Or white knights
To ride to our rescue.
There is love and lust
And the Reaper
Who sweeps.
An Old Tree in Whitehall
An old tree, so stately and tall
Stands in Whitehall.
Officials have talked as they walked by
Of the law
And, gazing at the sky forecast rain
And coming war.
Bombs have fallen from the sky.
And empire’s fire has died.
But this fine old tree survives.
And now I pass by
My heart humbled by this tree.
The Kindly Postman
When a young lady wearing just socks
Jumped out of a red pillar box
A postie named Dan
Being a kindly man
Bought her frocks from the local shops.
The Rain Had Come and Gone
The rain had come and gone.
Yet still raindrops fell
From branches laden down with rain.
Then, the mower came
To cut grass as I passed
Along the churchyard path
Where the old trees grow
And the dead sleep below.
Neither these trees nor the dead
Will know that I passed
Along this well worn churchyard path
As the mower cut grass
Heedless of rain.
K Morris - Poet 