K. Morris's Blog, page 416
March 9, 2019
The Bedroom Door
The bedroom door is open.
No words are spoken
Passions stir
But noone is there.
Closing the bedroom door,
Memories I recall.
‘Tis all
As it was before.
The Old Way 1
I can relate to this poem.
This is poem number one in a series of six, the rest of which which I’ll post through the coming week.
The Old Way 1
I often think the modern world feels like a party,
In a huge room filled with loud and boorish guests
Monopolising the conversation and jabbing fingers
And shouting each other down.
Me? I’m the one hiding in the kitchen;
I’m the one holding a drink and leaning against the wall,
Looking fed up with the whole wretched thing.
And just to...
There Once Was A Poet Named Lin
There once was a poet named Lin
Who wrote poems on a baked bean tin.
She composed in free verse,
Which grew progressively worse,
But all the Modernists loved Lin!
When A Young Lady Named Leigh
When a young lady named Leigh
Dated a debauchee,
Her good friend Kate,
Being a reprobate,
Joined those 2 for tea.
March 8, 2019
When That Old Reprobate Death
When that old reprobate death
Fell in love with Beth,
She hid away
And I heard her say,
“I value my sweet breath!”.
Forthcoming Poetry Reading and a “Selected Poems”
On Wednesday 13 March, I shall be giving a private poetry reading, along with several other poets. I have a slot of 15 minutes to fill, and I am in the process of determining which of my poems to read. Thus far I have decided to recite the below poems:
https://kmorrispoet.com/2017/05/01/wood-in-the-rain/
https://kmorrispoet.com/2016/07/08/the-poet-and-the-workman/
https://kmorrispoet.com/2017/09/18/from-my-archives-kipling-may-regret/.
I shall be spending part of my weekend in dec...
There Was A Young Lady Of Deal
There was a young lady of Deal
Who broke a cheap high-heel.
She hopped through the town
In her flimsy nightgown
Pursued by a vicar called Neil!
How Pleasant It Is To Dream
How pleasant it is to dream
In the pristine
Groves of academe,
Where the hard
Fact of a messy backyard
Is rarely, or never seen.
There Was A Young Man Named Slattery
There was a young man named Slattery
Who said “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”.
But when they copied his art,
It broke his heart,
So he retired to live in a hattery!
March 7, 2019
A Journalist By The Name Of Lou
A journalist by the name of Lou
Has published a story about us two.
It concerns last night
When, by the star’s bright light
You lost a high-heel shoe …