Details |
Kenny Moore Poem
Sheila Watters and her two young daughters were out for a stroll one day.
When all of a sudden big Bertie McCrudden jumped out and blocked her way.
"A couple of kisses from the little misses and then I,ll be out of your life".
The ladies resisted but Bertie persisted, until he caught sight of his wife.
She hopped down the road like a huge ugly toad and caught him by the scruff of the neck.
"Get home at once you miserable dunce, and go quickly for heavens sake!"
To Sheila she said, "I wish he was dead, but the brutes in perfect health."
Then Sheila replied, "You know if he died, you,d get your hands on his wealth."
The ladies conspired. A killer was hired to finally settle his hash.
Having sown the seed a price was agreed, so they handed over the cash.
The word of this hood was known to be good. And soon the dark deed was done.
As he lay on his bed our man was shot dead. And no trace as found of the gun.
Seeming demented his widow lamented and cried till her lungs were sore.
But her heart was as black as the clothes on her back when the widows mantle she wore.
But after a while she brightened her style, and found the living was good.
She said "Isnt it funny, I,m spending more money than Old Bertie ever could".
But Sheila, the pest, in remorse had confessed to her part in the evil plot.
The widow and she, the judge did decree, should in prison for evermore rot.
So if you are willing to profit from killing, please take note of this rhyme.
The ladies were jailed, and therefore had failed, to commit the perfect crime.
Copyright © Kenny Moore | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Kenny Moore Poem
So you,re not coming home for Christmas son, of course I understand.
Your mother tells me you are busy, away in that other land.
She says you have exams to sit, and essays still to write.
And that your head is in the books, all day and half the night.
Well, your granny is in a home you know, she swears this year,s her last,
And she would love to see your face again, but her eyesight is failing fast.
She talks about you every day, and then each night in prayer
She lifts you up before the Lord, and leaves you in His care.
Auld Rover misses you the most, for every day at four
He leaves the basket by the fire, and sits behind the door.
Just like he used to do when you came home from school,
But he doesent understand, isnt he the silly fool?
Call your mother at Christmas son, for that would make her day.
Its quiet as the grave round here, ever since you went away.
I have painted the bedroom for you son, and your mother has bought new linen,
We hope to see you at Easter time, if we are still alive and sinning.
Your Da.
Copyright © Kenny Moore | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Kenny Moore Poem
When a poets feeling low, and the lines just will not flow,
and you,re staring out the window at the view.
When you've tried until you've cried and your brain is nearly fried,
yet the page is staring blankly back at you.
And your pencils all a-bitten in despair at whats not written
then you send a silent prayer up to the skies.
And you,re inventing words like dor,inges, cos nothing rhymes with oranges,
and the strain brings on a pain behind your eyes.
Then you curse your education with pure exasperation
and you,re drowning in a reservoir of doubt.
But as you,re going under, the dam it bursts asunder
with a joy that makes you want to scream and shout.
To the subject you are warming, the rhyming couplets forming,
the metaphors are standing in a queue.
The stanzas come at last, the storm of doubt has passed.
The Bard himself could learn a thing or two!
Copyright © Kenny Moore | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Kenny Moore Poem
I,m off down the park for a walk with Rover,
I shouted back to my wife.
Well I dearly hope you both get run over,
For your pets are the bane of my life!
Charming, I thought as I slammed the front door,
Can,t a man have a simple pet.
It,s not as if he pees on the floor,
He,s the best goldfish I,ve had yet!
Copyright © Kenny Moore | Year Posted 2015
|