K. Morris's Blog, page 519

There Was An Elderly Man Named Spink

There was an elderly man named Spink
Who drove his poor wife to drink.
He returned home very late
With his young mistress Kate
In a taxi the colour of pink!

We All Fall

We all
Fall
From time to time
And a few
(Not me and you!)
Hide our crime
From view
In rhyme.

She Was Japanese

She was Japanese
And while not a tease
Her performance was satisfactory.

The light was dim, and he
Did not understand
She
– Broken
– Spoken,
Far from her native land

My Dark Mistress

Below is a Youtube clip of me reading my poem “Dark Angel””:

Should only black teachers teach black children about slavery?

Some time ago, I came across this post, https://solifegoeson.com/2017/12/20/white-teachers-who-teach-black-kids-about-slavery-piss-me-off/. I commented, however as my comment was not published I feel compelled to state my opinion here.

In the above post the author argues (essentially) that white teachers should not teach black children about slavery because they (the teachers) do not understand the experience of non-white people (the prejudice faced by those who’s skin is black). At the end o...

Valentine

Ah the joy of Valentine!
The loving words said
And the quaffing of wine,
Then waking up in bed
Beside your love divine.

Gazing on her
(She’s so young and fair)
You think “upon my life
She is not my wife!”.

I can not capture this sense of dissociation

I can not capture this sense of dissociation
Reflected in campfires
Of shop windows that blaze.

Walking home
I remember Rome
And see wolves waiting
For the camp’s lights to go out

Advice from poet Wendy Cope on poetry writing

A Guardian article in which poet Wendy Cope offers some excellent advice on writing poetry, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2008/sep/21/poetry.writing.wendycope.

Wendy stresses the importance of the poet being well read (in the sense of having read a wide variety of poetry, in different styles, by a diversity of poets). She also says that poets should practice writing all variaties of poetry in order to hone their craft. For example a poet who feels most comfortable using free verse, should...

ASH

I looked round today and
all I saw was ash,
The ash of my life, spent,
The flame gone out, dead dreams on the ground in rubble.

The scene was bleak, my eyes
Beheld no beauty,
All was ugly, spent now,
I stood there stripped, knowing I could not pick up ash.

Dreams disintegrated,
Hope gone for ever,
Nothing to re-ignite,
Barrenness was my empty companion today.

But suddenly I heard
A voice, saying “Sing,”
What song could I sing now,
Here in this strangest of strange lands, alien now?

The voic...

A Pretty Young Lady Named Ria

A pretty young lady named Ria
Said “all men’s delights are here”.
I looked really hard
And there in her yard
I discovered a barrel of beer!