K. Morris's Blog, page 390

I Know A Newspaper Hack

I know a newspaper hack
Who goes by the name of Jack.
He wrote a story about me
And an erotic dancer called Leigh,
I swear I’ll pay him back!

When A Man Whose Name is Grub

When a man whose name is Grub
Recited his poems in my local pub,
And he fell drunk on the floor
I called out for more,
Although his verse I never understood!

A podcast of poet Kevin Morris’s appearance on Vancouver Co-op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series

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On the evening of Thursday 16 May, I was honoured to appear on Vancouver Co-op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series.

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I am pleased to announce that a podcast of my interview (which includes me reading my poems) is now available and can be found here, http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=14391.

My interview starts approximately 3-4 minutes into the podcast and runs for around 25 minutes. I listened back to my interview using the Chrome Browser so know that Chrome works. I can not vouch for other brows...

Barbed

Like the sun’s rays
On rain filled days
The critic damned
With faint praise

Karl Marx Discussed Factors of Production with His Maid

Karl Marx discussed factors of production
With his maid
Who, no longer staid
Learned about equality,
The seduction
Of maid
By master
And what it is
To be free.

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helene_Demuth).

Her Surrender ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

She stands there quietly
Watching as I walk to her
My hands caress her fingers
Letting my fingertips
Slide softly up her arms
Her eyes never leave mine
As she waits
Wondering what will come next
I let my fingers linger on her arms
Knowing her anticipation is building
Letting my fingers caress her neck
Feeling her heartbeat increasing
Her breathing is faster now
As my fingers caress her cheeks
I can feel her tremble
My finger slowly traces the outline
Of her full lips
And I can...

Throw A Stone Into A Brook

Throw a stone into a brook
And look
As the water ripples.
Then, when the ripples are gone
You may
Ponder, on yonder
Setting sun, or turn away
For to think on
Days end
Can be painful, my friend.

As Permanent As The Grass I Pass

As permanent as the grass
I pass
Or the birds that sing,
Is this thing
I am,
Merely man.

Vampiress

A vampiress,

Far from dead

Slips

Out of her dress

So red,

Bringing delight

With nips

At night

The Rhyme Of Time

A poem from my archives. Time catches up with young lovers in the end, although they may pretend that the clock will stop, at some frozen place, in time and space.

K Morris - Poet

The clock
Does mock
His shoes
Her discarded sock.
“Those who in boudoirs stay
Will lose
Time
For they
Being at play
Do not hear
My chime,
Or perhaps out of fear
Turn a deaf ear
To the rhyme
Of time”.

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