K. Morris's Blog, page 280

Nightmares

In nightmares

The dark

Stares

Within our heart.

And, when

Good men

Awake

They take

A look inside

Their heart.

And decide

“Is that fantasy

The whole,

Or a mere fractionality

Of me?

‘Tis fortunate none can see

Into my soul.

And the lies

Behind my eyes.

When an Ill-Begotten Young Man Named Cotton

When an ill-begotten young man named Cotton

Said, “many a girl’s name I’ve forgotten.

And now I’m drunk

As the proverbial skunk”.

I said, “sir, you are absolutely rotten!”.

My Swing

A young lady named Ling

Comes round to mine to swing.

The vicar’s pretty wife Lee

Takes tea with Ling and me,

And then we go and swing.

My Forthcoming Poetry Collection

On 21 August 2019, I published my “Selected Poems, (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/). The book encompasses poems composed by me between 2013-2019, and is available in both a Kindle and paperback edition.

I am delighted to announce that I shall be releasing a further collection of my poetry in June/July 2020.

As a taster, I have included below my poem “Dead Stop”, which appears in the forthcoming collection:

“Perhaps some things should not be said

In poetry,

Or maybe

They can not be said

M...

There Once was a Kindly Old Squire

There once was a kindly old squire

Who, on seeing his young housemaid Mariah

Go down on her knees

To shell beans and peas,

Went down to assist young miss Mariah.

There Once Was a Man Named Poe

There once was a man named Poe

Whose work I happen to know.

A naughty young lady named Lee

Swears solemly that she knows me.

But I’ve never met Lee or Poe!

“And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.” ― Virginia Woolf, “The Waves” – a Guest Post by Veronica Sizova

“And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.”

― Virginia Woolf, “The Waves”

I was delighted when Veronica did me the honour of accepting my invitation to appear on my website, as I am a huge fan of Veronica’s writing.

—

Veronica Sizova

It is a pleasure to meet you, lovely readers of K. Morris! I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Kevin. It is a great honour to be featured on the blog of such an excellent poet! His creative writing is an infinite source of inspiration and a bea...

Red Light

When a young lady named White,

Who was standing under a red light

Said to me,

“Love isn’t free!”.

I wished miss White good night!

I Can Not Command the Wind

I can not command

The free

Wind,

For he

Does not understand

This social distance

Thing.

And I have no resistance

To the wind.

Furlow

During the time

Of Corona, girls unseen

May fulfill a lonely man’s dream.

While poets smile

And spend their time

Composing rhyme.

“An Englishman’s home is his castle”

Neighbours say.

And, wishing to avoid hassle

They look the other way

As girls (ineligible for furlow)

Come and go.

And time

Hangs heavy on the poet’s hands.

Therefore, he composes rhyme

About a crossed line,

And resistance

To social distance