K. Morris's Blog, page 47

Mowing

I passed by men mowing the churchyard grass.

When I came that way again

The men had passed, to go and mow

Some other grass perhaps.

 

I have walked the churchyard path

So oft , and passing by graves have coughed

Due to the hay.

 

 

One day the mower will pass,

And I will lie under the churchyard grass.

Sunset

Being blind

Should I regret

The lack of a sunset?

I find

In my heart

The sunset speak to me.

And hear church bells tell

Of man’s mortality.

So I make art

Through my poetry.

Passing Time

I have heard the tick tock

Of my old clock

And listened to young women’s feet

Beating out a rhyme

Of passing time

On the indifferent street

Where loneliness meets,

For a little while,

With a smile

Cold as gold.

Poetry Reading at the Royal Albert Pub in Upper Norwood, London SE19, at 7 pm on Tuesday 13 August

A poetry reading will be taking place at the Royal Albert pub, Upper Norwood, London  SE19, at 7 pm on Tuesday 13 August. There are 10 minute slots available.

 

For information on the Royal Albert pub please follow this link https://www1.camra.org.uk/pubs/royal-albert-upper-norwood-141485. Please feel free to turn up on the evening. However, should you have any queries regarding the event please contact Kevin at kmorrispoet (at) gmail .com. The email address is rendered thus in order to prevent ...

A Young Lady of Kampala

When I met a young lady of Kampala

Who said, “I worked in a massage parlour”.

And I said, “but Coral!

You are so very moral!”.

She said, “they sacked me from that parlour …!”

In the Doctors Surgery

Through the open door of the surgery

Comes the summer breeze.

Often the wind sings in the tree

Or plays with leaves

Fallen on the path. And in these leaves

And the windswept tree

I know we are bound for the ground.

Bad Poetry

When a rude and unfeeling young lad

Said, “your poems are so very bad!”.

I wept full sore

And said, “tell me more!”,

As I soundly thrashed that lad!

Whilst Singing a Very Old Hymn

Whilst singing a very old hymn

I spied that sinful Miss Lin.

She spoke of pleasure

In the sweet heather,

And I stopped singing that hymn …

Just Another Lover

She knocks on another lover’s door

Although she’s never seen him before.

After a drunken carouse

She loses her blouse

As with other lovers before.

 

His mirror has reflected back

The white and black.

Another lover passing through his door

He’s never seen before.

 

 

He gives her a token.

His love is spoken,

As so many times before

In cold hard gold

Which opens more than doors.

Dover Beach, a Parody

A couple of days ago, I joined a poetry session on Zoom. The theme of the readings was “the sea”. I read 2 poems, one of my own, and Matthew Arnold’s fine poem, Dover Beach, which has long been one of my favourites Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold | Poetry Foundation.

 

Looking out to sea in the company of an unnamed woman, Arnold is reminded of “the turbid ebb and flow of human misery”. “The sea of faith” was once a powerful force holding society together,

“… But now I only hear

Its melancholy, lo...