K. Morris's Blog, page 176

Poet Kevin Morris’s Poem Leaving Included in September 2021’s Virtual Dodo

I am pleased to announce that my poem Leaving has been included in September’s Dodo Modern Vidpoets.

My poem is the next to last poem. To read my poem and those of the other contributors please follow this link https://dodovidpoets.blogspot.com/2021/09/virtual-dodo-7-september-2021.html.

A Poet’s Epitaph

I had the poet Ernest Christopher Dowson (one of the so-called Decadent Poets) in mind when I wrote this.

K Morris - Poet

“He liked to rhyme
And was fond
Of women
And wine,
And sinning.
Now he has gone beyond
Women,
And wine,
And sinning.
And he is out of time
For rhyme”.

View original post

Making Music

A young lady of ill repute
Is fond of playing the flute.
Her friend Lin
Plays my violin.
And me? I play the lute!

In Honour of the Season

In honour of the season, I have reproduced below my poem, Autumn, which can be found in my collection Light and Shade https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX. Autumn is an acrostic. You can find out about acrostics here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrostic.

—

August has long since ceased to be.
Upon the forest floor,
The oak and chestnut has shed its store,
Unceremoniously, of conker and acorn.
Mulch for the lawn,
Now leaves feed the ground.

Claire’s Warning to Gentlemen

When a young lady named Claire
Said, “you gentlemen should take care
As there are many young women
To tempt you all into sinning”,
I remembered last night with her …

The Church Clock

Religious or not
Who, on hearing the church clock
Or solemn bell
Has not had cause to pause,
And think on heaven and hell?

The fool and the wise
Get dust in their eyes.
But the wise
Heed the clock,
Whilst the fool does not

Fishing

Sitting here in my gown
I remember my once brown
Hair, now white.
Fishing is delight
(And often pain).
And frequently we gain
Our wish in fish.
But oh! how quickly our desire
For a particular fish does expire.
And then we fish
For yet more fish.
But time’s great line
Hooks us all
In the end.

Blackbirds

Dusk softly falls
. As blackbirds call
Tis a kind of poetry
As brother calls to brother.
Or, more prosaically,
Its merely territory.
But tis poetry to me.

My Friend Who is High in Society

My friend who is high in society
Said, “Kevin, I am fond of variety.
That pretty Miss Lou
Goes well with Sue!”.
I said, “there’s some merit in sobriety!”.

Miss Moon

As I entered my fine old bedroom
I met a young lady named Moon.
I said, “my dear,
What brings you here?”.
She said, “you’re smoking a magic mushroom!”.