K. Morris's Blog, page 130

There Was a Young Lady Named Bell

There was a young lady named Bell
Who built a place down in Hell.
A demon called Moore
Fitted her front door
And the devil he rang Bell’s bell!

As I Write

As I write
Church bells tell
Of dust
And night.

This sunlit day
Must pass away
And I must write
Whilst there is light.

When I Visited a Discreet Little Sauna

When I visited a discreet little Sauna
I was entertained by pretty Miss Lorna.
We enjoyed tea and cake
With a girl called Lake,
And a vicar who calls himself Warner …

I Met a Young Lady Named Steed

I met a young lady named Steed
Who said, “I have a great need!”,
Dear reader, I must confess
She was wearing no dress
Which distracted my steed from his feed!

A Rose Tight Closed

A rose
Tight closed.
All petals fall
But not all
Roses open
And unspoken
Lust is dust

Fairies

In childhood we play
With fairies. But they
Do not stay
And we engage
On the world’s stage.

Then, in old age
We fancy
We see
A fairy
Ere we enter eternity.

Miss Mar’s Memoir

My friend whose name is Miss Mar
Wrote a memoir just wearing her bra.
When I attended her book signing
All the men they where lining
Up to see her memoir and bra …

The Second Coming by W. B. Yeats

Sometimes, when I consider the state of the world, I am reminded of the Irish poet W. B. Yeats’s poem The Second Coming. I am no millenarian, however the poet’s Second Coming continues to resonate with me

A Summer Butterfly

A butterfly
On a
Sunny day
Flew by
My Labrador.
A snap of jaw.
And our summer chat
Of this and that.

All things must die
As the summer butterfly.
Death’s jaws will close
On man and rose.
You and I
Are but butterflies
Who love and laugh
And then must pass.

The Ghost of Marx

Whilst walking through some very nice parks
I met with the ghost of Marx.
He said, “be my pal
And read my Das Kapital”.
But I preferred to enjoy those parks!