K. Morris's Blog, page 393

My Old Clock I wind and Other Poems, by K Morris

[image error]

Shall I sit out this dance
As the dancers prance
Heedlessly by.
Why
On occasions Can I not join in
With my companions and grin?

The song
Of the throng
Helps me forget
And yet
I am not as other men,
For when
I smile
There is, all the while
Within
The knowledge of this temporary din.

Others see it too
But construe
Me speaking of such a thing
As bad form and bring
The conversation around
To matters less profound.
But, when they are alone
Do they not think on skin and bone?

I can reduce my compa...

We are a nation of scrollers not readers, and tech billionaires are to blame

An article in The Guardian’s opinion section argues that we (in the UK) are a nation of scrollers rather than readers, and that the blame for this lies at the door of the tech billionaires, (see https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/may/08/nation-scrollers-readers-read-netflix-twitter-books-mark-zuckerberg).

Its very easy to blame others for one’s own shortcomings methinks . . .

Roses I May Not Pick, Tempt

Roses I may not pick, tempt
With their sweet
Scent.
The peach,
Out of reach
I may not eat
For mine
Wine
Has passed its best.
But, in time
All things must rest.
The hour
Of the flower
And peach, is brief,
And all must, one day cease

“Check your Privilege”

“Check your privilege”, can not be said
To the dead,
But if it could, Kipling would
Remain the same,
A man of his time,
Who some would like to arraign
For the heinous crime
Of writing rhyme

I put my nose out the window and smell the rain

I put my nose out the window
And smell the rain,
But quickly close it again
Why should I
shut out the rain
And sky?
For I
Know not when I shall die.

Death and Taxes

Property makes us free
And to me
And thee
The only thing certain
In life, is death’s final curtain
And taxation,
Which sustains the nation.

Walking Home from the Supermarket

Walking home from the supermarket
I heard
A bird
And thought
I could not have bought
That in store.

Overheard

He spoke about a guy
Who tried to woo
A lady of 22.
And I,
Overheard every word
And wondered what it had to do
With him.
I don’t know,
Is it a sin
For a guy of 52
Or so,
To woo
A girl of 22?

I think
That if a guy
Of 52,
Wishes to buy
A drink
For a lady of 22
That it is nothing to do
With me or you.
“A fool and his money are soon parted”
The moralist will say. But, if that be true
And a man is brokenhearted,
I come back to
my original question, what has that to do
With me or you?

Tuesday Morning Humour

There once was a poet named Kim
Who was both petite and slim.
Her verse it was mediocre
But a critic called Coker,
Loved that young lady Kim!

—

When a pretty young lady named Mable
Said, “I am both willing and able”.
I gave her a smile
And said, “wait a while,
First we must lay this table”.

—

There once was a horologist named Sue
Who said, “any clock will do”.
So she bought an ancient timepiece
From a disreputable old thief,
But that clock it just wouldn’t do!

Sunlight on Gravestones

Sunlight on gravestones
Reminds me
That we
Are but bones.
But, with my soul on the line
I should, perhaps back the communion wine . . .