K. Morris's Blog, page 396
April 29, 2019
A picture of the postcard which advertises my poetry.
[image error]
The above photograph shows my poem ‘Lost’. The text reads:
LOST
‘My thoughts lost on the damp air
Going who knows where.
The sodden grass
I pass
Where children play
but not today.
No ball
or bird call.
Only the rain’s incessant fall.’
– Kevin Morris
Excerpt from ‘Lost in the Labyrinth of my Mind’
‘Lost’ can be found in ‘Lost in the Labyrinth of my Mind’, available here for the UK and here for the US.
Wild Flowers
I perceive
The flowers as I
Pass by.
Should I
Grieve
That they will die?
I paused and smelt
And felt
Their slim stem that I
Could so easily break.
I chose not to take
And did the blooms forsake
For I
Know that they shall die
This poem and others like it can be found in ‘The Writer’s Pen and other poems’, available here for the UK and here for the US.
The above pictures were taken in Spa Wood, SE19.
[image error]
Bluebells close-up
[image error]Yellow flowers close-up
[image error]Wild garlic close-up
[image error]Blue flowers close-up
[image error]White flowers...
In the woods dark heart
In the wood’s dark
Heart the breeze
Whispers in the trees
Words that I can not comprehend.
May god send
Me peace
And this breeze
Never cease.
‘In the woods dark heart’ can be found on Amazon in ‘The Writer’s Pen and other poems’ by Kevin Morris, available here for the UK and here for the US.
All of these pictures were taken in Spa Woods, SE19.
[image error]
A picture of the path leading into the woods
[image error]A large tree close-up
[image error]A large tree
Five new poems by poet K Morris on Soundcloud
Five new poems by poet Kevin Morris on Soundcloud.
Choreographed
She arrives in Jeans.
Changes into a dress.
Does a little to impress
In carefully choreographed scenes,
And departs in jeans.
April 28, 2019
When My Friend Whose Name Is Ted
When my friend whose name is Ted
Turned to me and said,
“If I had the time I’d use internal rhyme”,
I said, “you just have Ted!”.
There Once Was A Clever Ukrainian
There once was a clever Ukrainian
Who grew a spectacular geranium.
It had many pink flowers
And she spent countless hours
Tending that geranium which grew in her cranium!
Do Nymphs Still Play?
“Do nymphs still play
In woodland glades today
And the sunlight gleam
On pristine stream,
Where Flighty Aphrodite
Goes dancing and romancing?”
I asked Christine.
She made reply,
With a sultry look, in her one good eye,
“I aim to please
But the pollon makes me sneeze
So no rolling in the hay
For me today”.
Christine is such a tease …
What Constitutes the Erotic for you?
What constitutes the erotic for you?
Is it the stiletto shoe
On an ankle slim
That tempts you into sin?
Or is it the red light
Which winks
At kinks
Both day and night
That does it for you?
Some prefer
The bare
While others consider the covered
Erotic, for the exotic
Is a mystery to be discovered.
I find at night
That there are better things to do
Than write
About the stiletto shoe …
There Once Was A Writer Named Sage
There once was a writer named Sage
Who told all his business on the page.
Each affair of the heart
He described in his art,
And his lovers they all sued Sage!
