K. Morris's Blog, page 501

April 12, 2018

Tis Fun To Sail Away On A Boat

Tis fun to sail away on a boat
With friends and your wife’s best coat.
But if you and the craft should sink
Your dear wife will think
On the loss of her favourite coat.

Tis fun to sail away on a boat
With friends and your wife’s best coat.
But if the boat goes down
And you should drown,
What of your wife’s best coat?

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 12, 2018 22:53

I Challenge You To…

Ester Chilton has been kind enough to reproduce several of my limericks in the below post.
I particularly enjoyed Keith Channing’s limerick on the subject of lies (which can be found below).

estherchiltonblog

This week’s challenge is to write a story, limerick or poem on the subject of:

Lies

Last week’s challenge was to write about cake. You sent in some great pieces. Here are a few:

First up is the brilliant Keith Channing:

When my daughter came home with her beau
He asked, “Have you any gâte...

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 12, 2018 22:17

Remains of Poet Sameul Taylor Coleridge Rediscovered In 17-Century Wine Cellar

[image error]

The remains of the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge have been rediscovered in a 17th-century wine cellar, which is now part of the crypt of a church, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/apr/12/samuel-taylor-coleridge-poet-remains-rediscovered-wine-cellar.

My favourite Coleridge poem is “Kubla Khan” which is reproduced below:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles o...

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 12, 2018 12:28

April 11, 2018

Light

When the lights burn
Evil spirits turn
Away
Or so they
Say.

But what of the inner dark
Where there exists no spark
Of healing light
To fright
The night
Away?

No light of day
Can get inside
The heart
Where the dark
Does hide.
And who can trace
Behind the bright
Face
The night?

(Written in response to https://sarainlalaland.com/2018/04/11/i-challenge-you/).

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 11, 2018 22:43

How to Create Your Own Personal ‘Writing Bubble’

Much of my writing takes place in my spare room, which I dignify with the name of study. I have also written in my mum’s garden, in Liverpool and in my lunch hour while in the office. My favourite “bubble” is my study, in my home in Upper Norwood, high up on a hill.

Novelty Revisions

What comes to mind when someone asks your go-to writing spot? How about your ideal writing environment? Do you thrive beneath the flow of conversation, or alone in a noiseless room? Do you have a designated table...

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 11, 2018 05:29

Learning Poetry By Rote

An amusing article concerning the merits of learning poetry by rote, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2260419/Ill-vote-learning-poetry-rote.html. (The author is not in favour of said practice). As one of the commenters states, in the comments following on from the piece, much of the poetry I can recall is that from which I derived pleasure, for example Dowson’s “They Are Not Long The Weeping And The Laughter” and Beloc’s “On An Election”.

As someone or other once wrote:
There was a y...

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 11, 2018 05:10

April 10, 2018

There Was A Young Man Called James

There was a young man called James
Who went by numerous names.
When he met a girl named Kim
His name was Jim
Or maybe it was Aimes …

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 10, 2018 22:53

There Was A Young Lady Called Jane

There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Yelling “I have had enough
And I can’t stand the rain!”.

There was a young lady called Jane
Who boarded the wrong train.
She jumped off in a huff
Which was really quite tough
On account of the moving train!

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 10, 2018 22:25

The Cane

“Wait here!” he said, his hands clenching and unclenching as he strode towards the door. There was a crash and he was out in the open air.
He rushed down the garden path and, wrenching open the tool shed door, grabbed several thick bamboo canes and, not bothering to close it behind him, hurried back to the building where the objects of his ire awaited his return.
He found that thin canes had no lasting effect. What was needed was real discipline and he was determined that, come hell or high w...

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 10, 2018 04:47

April 9, 2018

Why This Disdain For The Rain?

Why this disdain
For the rain?
Tis the sense
That all our expense
Is vain
While the rain
Will remain.

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on April 09, 2018 22:24