She ends each text with an x,
While he, with a world weary smile
Does the same.
It’s the oldest game
Around they say.
Some Feminists may frown
But the men still pay.
The women pay to,
But in a different way.
Some girls play a part
And retain their heart.
But each party pays,
And all loves and lusts
Are but endless dust.
A young lady composing a poetic line
Said, “I’ll have another glass of wine
As the more I drink
The more I do think
That my poetic line is truly divine …!.
How soon the scent
Of blossom is spent
In the rain.
These little flowers
No not hours,
While I pass by
In unending rain.
When an elderly gentleman named Matt
Said, “have you seen my cat?”,
A man called Hogg
Spoke of his dog,
And me? I ate my hat!
A bishop riding on a goose
Said, “modern morals are too loose!”.
The creature said, “honk!”,
Which rhymes with bonk,
As it’s morals where somewhat loose!
When I met a young lady named Lou
Who said, “I’ll explore my fetish with you!”,
I began to dream
Of strawberries and cream.
But Lou’s shoe left me black and blue!
Birds on a March evening.
Such beauty and grieving
For we all must sleep,.
Sometimes I almost weep
For birds in the evening
Will sing on
When I am gone.
Yet this night
I shall take delight
In evening birds.
For the graveyard plot
Has no song.
The ageing poet deals
In rhymes of passing time.
As girls in heels
Laugh as they pass by.
Their minds are not
On the ticking clock,
Nor on poets who sigh
As they heedlessly pass by.
February is slipping away.
It is easy to say
I will act tomorrow,
But why not act today?
For each moment I borrow
And Time’s unyielding knife
Ends all joy and strife.
And none can say
When his scythe may fall.
But it must fall
And bring all to dust.
I know a most pretty young maid
And many a game we have played.
Her hair has a kink
And she dresses in pink
And I hear she’s the vicars maid!
K Morris - Poet 