When a young lady whose name is Fliss
Said, “tis bliss to Kiss”,
Her friend Moriah
Said, “the squire’s looks are dire,
But his wealth, it gives me bliss!”.
—
When the wife of a man named Ted
Found a young woman asleep in their bed,
Her face turned dark
And she made a remark,
But I dare not repeat what she said!
When a young man named Coker
Remarked, “your verse ’tis mediocre”,
And I said, “come hither”,
He began to quiver,
As I raised a very large poker!
When a young lady named Leigh
Dated a debauchee,
Her good friend Kate,
Being a reprobate,
Joined those 2 for tea.
When that old reprobate death
Fell in love with Beth,
She hid away
And I heard her say,
“I value my sweet breath!”.
On Wednesday 13 March, I shall be giving a private poetry reading, along with several other poets. I have a slot of 15 minutes to fill, and I am in the process of determining which of my poems to read. Thus far I have decided to recite the below poems:
I shall be spending part of my weekend in deciding which of my other poems to read.
Sorting through my work kindles in me a desire to publish a “selected Poems”. This is, I think a longer-term project requiring considerable thought and much burning of the midnight oil. It is, nonetheless something on which my heart is set.
Kevin
Would you like to share one of your poems? If so, please feel free to either leave a link to it below, or ccut and paste your work into the comment field.
Please only share poems to which you hold the copyright. Do not share other poets copyrighted work (as to do so is a breech of their copyright and may lead to legal action being taken against you).
I look forward to reading your poems.
Kevin
I keep
The key
For a time
In a tray.
Will people seek
For the key
When I go away
And, perchance, finding this rhyme
Think on old Father Time
And me?
“Why I hate and love poetry – Is it the goat in me?”, is a long but rewarding read, https://sevencircumstances.com/poetry-and-lyrics/why-i-hate-poetry/
When we undress
We must
Perforce lose
Skin. But who will confess
That he does choose
To indulge in lust
And sin?
A confusion over socks.
She laughs.
Their paths
Did Converge for a time
His memory unlocks
And she, and her socks
Are bound in a rhyme.
K Morris - Poet 