K. Morris's Blog, page 533

Past And Present

It is a truism that we can not live in the past
But when the present seems barren as plastic
It is tempting to believe that we can stretch the elastic
Of this fact
And act
In denial
Of the vast supermarket aisle,
Where meaning’s lack
Is concretized in musak.

Hibernation

It is cold.
Should I be bold
And go outside?
Or like a tortoise, hibernate?
I can not decide.

It is late
In the year.
A thought most drear
Does take
Hold .
Not all tortoises awake
From the cold.
I pray
For a spring day.

There Was A Young Lady Named Hocking

There was a young lady named Hocking
Who lost a silk stocking.
She searched high and low
But I happen to know
That the vicar has her stocking …

Butterfly

A butterfly flits from flower to flower.
It’s hour
‘Tis brief,
But man knows grief

The Hall

The cold rain does fall.
I recall
We stood in the shelter
Of the old hall.

Helter skelter
The years whirl by.
Now I
Sit alone
In my home
Thinking on the cold rain
And the old hall that will remain
When I also make my way
Into those woods where we were wont to play.

—

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speke_Hall

Charades

How do you imagine me?
Do you see
Danger smouldering behind dark glasses?
A young man, superficially charming,
My good looks disarming
Girls who dance
To my tune of false romance?

Do you see me
In a sports car
With a false number plate
Where girls go too far
And learn too late
The meaning of hate?

You don’t see a young
Woman, my compassion flung
Aside.
I shall decide
Which girl shall work tonight,
To bring delight
To you good sir.

I swear
That you wouldn’t guess
That beneath my demure dres...

Sometimes My Heart Is Still

Sometimes my heart is still
Up here on this hill,
High above sea level.
There is no devil
Calling to me
And I hear,
Loud and clear
The bird so wild and free
Singing,
His song for a moment bringing
An end
To all I pretend
To be …

There Was A Young Man From Hull

There was a young man from Hull
Who owned a large prize bull.
They lived in a glass house
Along with a mouse named Clouse
And their lives where never dull!

Some Thoughts On My Writing And On Poetry More Generally

I am linking to a post on “Rhyme”, in which I answer questions regarding my poetry and those writers who have exerted an influence on my work. I appreciate that some of my readers are already familiar with this article. However, for those who are not, I hope my interview on Rhyme will be of interest to you, https://rhymepoetry.wordpress.com/2017/06/01/interview-with-kevin-morris/

Impostor

Nearly 2 am.
I am Awake when
I have no desire
For fire
(only sleep).
Yet I must keep
Alert
To avert disaster.

Though in truth
It is my bad luck
That it has already struck,
But the roof
Will not fall
And I shall recall
This impostor of a disaster
With laughter.