K. Morris's Blog, page 478

There Was A Young Lady Called Lin

There was a young lady called Lin
Who was wholly free of sin.
I knew her well
And strange to tell
I could never make her sin!

There Was A Young Man Called Mick

There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
At dead of night
We had a fight
And Mick he lost his stick!

There was a young man called Mick
Who carried a very big stick.
A policewoman named Jane
Said “It gives me great pain
To confiscate that stick!”.

As I Grow Older

As I grow older
Father Time
Taps me on my shoulder
With his scythe
And says “this rhyme
May survive,
Or perchance another one
After you are gone”.

A new poetry book and a lovely poem by Balroop Singh

Robbie's inspiration

Michael and I are very excited to have Balroop Singh visiting us today to talk about her lovely new poetry book, Timeless Echoes, and share one of her delightful poems.

The blurb

Certain desires and thoughts remain within our heart, we can’t express them, we wait for the right time, which never comes till they make inroads out of our most guarded fortresses to spill on to the pages of our choice. This collection is an echo of that love, which remained obscure, those yea...

There Was A Young Lady Called Ling

There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Joined our date
In the midst of the budding spring.

There was a young lady called Ling
With whom I had a fling.
My girlfriend Kate
Whacked me with a plate.
Oh love, tis a painful thing!

the 4th of July Is …

4 July is, of course best known for being American Independence Day. But enough of such trivia, for any school child can inform you that today is the day when America broke away from the United Kingdom!

Of far more importance to me than the above, is the fact that, on 4 July 2011, I became the proud owner of my 4th guide dog, Trigger, a beautiful brindle Labrador/retriever cross. Trigger goes everywhere with me, whether that be into restaurants, the office or the pub. I hasten to add that, in...

The Lost Soul

A wiff
Of cheap scent
On bedclothes
For him to sniff
When she goes.

How easy it is to repent
Of the money spent
But, he knows
That when the wine flows
The weak
Will seek
For a she of a certain profession.

Had he belief
He would make his confession
To the priest who knows
Where the lost soul goes
To find a temporary relief
On the Siren’s reef.

When In Drink

When in drink
We say what we really think
Our friends we scandalise.
But who knows
What goes
On behind those sober eyes …?

We pass Before The Glass

We pass
Before the glass,
Slake
And forsake.

To take
But not possess.
Her dress
Or jeans.

Scenes
Are in the mirror caught.
Our time is bought
But the glass will not tell
What we know
Oh too well …!

There Once Was A Werewolf Called Guy

There once was a werewolf called Guy
Who went out when the moon was high.
When the moon disappeared
He became afeared
And would shake and sometimes cry!