K. Morris's Blog, page 557

Privilege

I stand opposed to all privilege,
To the bitter end.
Yet, if it be mine own
I do, as a dog with a bone
My privilege defend,
Gainst foe and friend

There was an elderly general called Lot

There was an elderly general called Lot
Who remarked “queen and country, wot!”.
Why he did so,
I really don’t know.
I regret that Lot got shot!

How to Begin to Write Poetry

This is a good post. I agree with many of the points made here. I do not, however adhere to the author’s view that one should confine oneself to a single image per line. In poetry based largely upon the utilisation of rhyme this is not always possible. Also, if a poet is writing about inner turmoil or about random thoughts (a stream of consciousness composition), the one image per line rule is not, in my view applicable.

A Writer's Path

by Diana Raab, PhD

Poetry is the voice of the soul an...

Glass

Silent reflector of dreams.
A girl’s make-up seems
To hide
What lies inside.
For no crack must be seen
On your perfect screen.

But girls waking up, in the morning,
Stretching, yawning,
Should they chance
To glance
In the glass, may see
The real she.

There was a young lady called Glass

There was a young lady called Glass
Who hailed from the working class.
She wed an aristocratic old farmer,
Who was far from a charmer,
But were there’s muck there’s brass.

(For the origin and meaning of the phrase “were there’s muck there’s brass”, please see http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/408900.html).

There was an elderly gentleman called Farmer

There was an elderly gentleman called Farmer
Who was a real old charmer.
He proposed to a much younger girl,
Which put her head in a whirl.
They were married by a Tibetan Lama.

Platform

A couple on the platform kiss.
“This
Place isn’t real” he says.
Oh happy days
For lovers. And I
Do not hear what she answers in reply.

Submitting Your Short Fiction and Poetry: 5 FAQs from a Magazine Editor…

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

by Elise Holland  in Writer’s Digest Online:

For writers of short form literature, submitting your work can mean a variety of positive things.

This step is a powerful signal to yourself that you take your craft seriously enough to put your work out into the world.

And having your work published in a genre or literary magazine can serve to build your resume and grow your writing community.

But so many writers, emerging or established, have lingering ques...

(From my archives) – “Kipling May Regret”

This poem first appeared here on 9 April 2017:

In the restaurant its just the waiter and I,
While outside the window Vehicles speed by.
“There are a lot of beautiful women outside today”,
He remarks by way
Of conversation.
I drink
My wine and think
About this nation
On who’s empire the sun would never set.

Kipling may regret,
Yet
The sun continues to shine
And there is curry and wine,
While in the street
Multiracial feet
Hurry
Along,
Beating out a more or less harmonious song.

Autumn Sun

There is sadness in the Autumn sun
For our fun
Is almost done.
The prize could have been won
But we let it slip away
As there is always another day.

So we sit here,
In the fall
And recall
What could
And should
Have been done