K. Morris's Blog, page 338

Her Sweet Laughter

Your witty
Word, heard
By a pretty
Girl, produces laughter.
And after
Her sweet laughter,
You dream
Of dinner and wine,
For ’tis a fine
Thing to dream

Decay

I smell the decay
On an autumn day.
I shall rhyme
For a time,
For fallen leaves
Do not deceive.

I Met A Young Lady Named Nell

I met a young lady named Nell
In the bar of a certain hotel.
As it was growing late
A pretty waitress called Kate
Said, “I’ve a bedtime story to tell”.

General Election Humour

The Labour Manifesto says this,
Whilst the Conservatives says that,
And the Downing Street cat
Thinks it such great bliss,
When it smells a rat.

When An Angry Young Gentleman Named Dave

When an angry young gentleman named Dave
Called me a very wicked knave,
I said, “as for your sister,
Really, its impossible to resist her,
And your housemaid is far from staid!”.

Show Not Tell

A young woman, of 20 or so
And a man, old enough to be her father,
Booked into a cheap, backstreet hotel.
You know
Very well, that the writer should show,
But would you rather
I tell?

Coffer

She wants what he has to offer,
A coffer,
Although, she would not understand the word.
Poor bird
You feed
On meagre
seed
From one who is reluctant, eager,
And does not, really, see, thee.

The Bliss of Solitude

I do enjoy the company of friends and, on average meet up for drinks and/or a meal, once or twice a week. I am especially fond of sitting near an open log fire, whilst enjoying a couple of pints with close friends in a traditional pub. I do, however also have the reputation of being fond of my own company which is, I think a trait shared by most (I suspect all) writers.

I well remember, on my 18th birthday, going to bed whilst the party was still in full swing. It was, after all my party and...

There Once Was An Elderly Gentleman Named Bill

There once was an elderly gentleman named Bill
Who died leaving a very brief will,
In which he left all of his money
To a pretty young lady called Honey,
And cyanide, to his beloved wife Jill

#Poetryreadathon – meet blogger and poet, Lorraine Lewis

I am an admirer of Lorraine’s work, hence the reblog. Kevin

Robbie's inspiration

Today, I am delighted to welcome poet and blogger, Lorraine Lewis to Robbie’s inspiration. Lorraine blogs at https://blindwilderness.wordpress.com/ and shares some lovely and moving poetry.

A poem for my father

Through the mullioned windows I saw the sheep,

Illuminated by the sun,

As I gazed at them my spirit danced,

Then they disappeared behind the hill,

Now, again, all seemed dark,

I waited, hoping that they would come back.

To my delight they soon came back,

Huge was this flock of sheep,

When they r...