K. Morris's Blog, page 129
July 19, 2022
I Awoke to a Very Loud Knocking
I awoke to a very loud knocking
In bed with the beautiful Miss Hocking.
She said, “I can not pretend
That I don’t have a boyfriend!”.
I said, “is that him knocking Hocking?”
Children Make Waves
Children make waves
In paddling pools.
The present heatwave
Will not stay.
And sceptic fools
Continue their play
While home burns.
July 18, 2022
Is a Poem a Nothing?
Is a poem a nothing?
We end in a coffin.
No pleasure is found
In the cold ground.
We see what is true
So pursue Lou and Sue.
For no pleasure is found
When we enter cold ground.
We lust to forget
Our pain and regret.
For only dust is found
When we enter cold ground.
July 17, 2022
My Favourite Room
My favourite room
Is my bedroom.
A quiet place
With a bookcase
Full of books.
And a glass
Where girls look
As they pass
By. And I
Return to books.
July 16, 2022
10 of the Best Robert Frost Quotations
Robert Frost is one of my favourite poets, so I was pleased to see this post on the site Interesting Literature, https://interestingliterature.com/2022/07/best-robert-frost-quotes/
July 15, 2022
When I Found that Gorgeous Miss Rose
When I found that gorgeous Miss Rose
Tangled up in all of my bedclothes,
I said to my dear wife,
“you’re the love of my life,
But please let go of my nose!”.
There Was a Young Man Named Bert
There was a young man named Bert
Who liked to dress in a skirt.
A girl called Lou
Lent him 1 shoe
So he hopped along in that skirt!
There was a young man named Cambell
There was a young man named Cambell
Who got caught on a sharp bramble.
When he loudly swore
They said, “we implore
You not to abuse that defenceless bramble!”.
July 12, 2022
Heather Who Would Never Take off Her Leather
There was a young lady named Heather
Who would never take off her leather.
When her lover Ted Said,
“You are hot in bed!”,
Heather said, “its because I’m wearing leather!”.
We Met in the Wood
We met in the wood
Where the wild flowers bud
And the ageing poet rhymes
Of his long lost springtime.
Buds turn to flowers
On the woodland path.
Our hours are finite
And pass into night.