K. Morris's Blog, page 494

Short Skirts

“G and I
Are wearing a short
Skirt”.
She said as I
Passed by.
An attempt to flirt?
Caught off guard
I didn’t know what to say,
Mumbled some words
And went on my way.

Both young enough
To be my daughter.
Why dwell on such stuff?
For we where all the worse for drink.
Yet I still think
On that night
And thus write
It down
Though the prude
Will consider me crude
And frown.

There Was A Young Lady Called Kate

There was a young lady called Kate
Who invariably came home late.
When her father, Lord Moor
Banged on my door
I hid with his young daughter Kate …

Haircut

A myriad leaves fall down
Tis many a long day
Since the gray
Hair were brown

There Was A Young Lady From Bristol

There was a young lady from Bristol
Who shot me with her pistol.
I said with disdain
“I feel no pain.
Throw down that water pistol!”.

There Was A Young Lady Called Rose

There was a young lady called Rose
Who had a remarkably long nose.
When the tide covered all
I do recall
That a poem she did compose.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tide/

PorterGirl – The Vanishing Lord only 99p !

Lucy’s writing is invariably brings a smile to my face.

Secret Diary Of PorterGirl

The second book in the PorterGirl series on offer for a limited time…

There’s nothing quite so annoying as having the police arrive just as you are trying to work out how to cover up a crime that may or may not have happened…

Having barely drawn breath from clearing out the bodies that resulted from the unpleasantness of last term, our heroine Deputy Head Porter once again finds herself facing another crisis a...

“Magna Est Veritas”, by Coventry Patmore

Here, in this little Bay,

Full of tumultuous life and great repose,

Where, twice a day,

The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes,

Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,

I sit me down.

For want of me the world’s course will not fail:

When all its work is done, the lie shall rot;

The truth is great, and shall prevail,

When none cares whether it prevail or not.

An Observation

The moralist judgement passes
On men in glasses
Who make passes
At pretty lasses.
While the wise observe that those who criticise,
Will never find favour in a girl’s bright eyes.

(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/observe/).

Shall I Write A Poem Risque

Shall I write a poem risqué
About a girl called Fay?
As you know
I am not that way
At all,
Being pure as the snow
That does fall
On an inner city street
Where Fay’s feet
Clip clop
In heels high,
Causing a passing guy
To stop
And give Fay the eye …

There Was A Young Lady From France

There was a young lady from France
Who liked to sing and dance
Her looks were exotic
And she was very erotic
So I didn’t stand a chance …