K. Morris's Blog, page 561

Reverend Spooner, Father of the Spoonerism

Interesting Literature

In this week’s Dispatches from the Secret Library, Dr Oliver Tearle delves into the life of the man immortalised by the spoonerism

Archibald Spooner (1844-1930) was a physically striking man. An albino with pink skin and white hair, he became affectionately known as the Child by students at New College, the Oxford college of which Spooner became warden in 1903. (His wife Frances became known as the Madonna, hence their collective nickname.) By all accounts, Spooner was...

There was a young Communist named Neil

There was a young Communist named Neil
Who started the revolution’s wheel.
It whirled round and round
And to the ground
It pinned that revolutionary Neil

A life of Servitude?

As a guide dog owner for some 30 years, I was interested to come across this article, “Service Animals: A ‘Chosen’ Career Path or a Life of Servitude?”, by Joy Thomas, a teacher and guide dog owner, https://www.crixeo.com/service-animals/.

In her article, Thomas examines the views of those who maintain that the use of service animals (such as guide dogs) is cruel, and contrasts them with others (including scientists and those who train service animals).

The latter group are of the opinion tha...

Any Port

“Good morning stranger, I know you well”.
They greet
Under well worn sheet.
“There is no spell
To hold you here
Tis simply the sprinkle,
The familiar tinkle
Of worldly dust
That has thrust
We two together.
In stormy weather
Ships seek any port.
On a wave of need caught
They chance their luck
And sometimes buck”.

Model

Reena Saxena

Carefully designed, constructed, analysed and remodelled – I consider myself lucky to be the recipient of so much attention. I occupy a place of pride in my maker’s office.

Yet, the emptiness gnaws at my existence. I am a ship that has never met the ocean. I have never enjoyed the roller coaster ride on the body of giant waves, never flirted with the wind and never conquered turbulence to reach the shore. I gave way to prototypes, but could never test my own strength.

I was desi...

There was a young man named Hogg

There was a young man named Hogg
Who decided to start a blog.
He soon got bored
And remarked “oh lord,
I shall give this blog to my dog!”

A confusion

A confusion about socks.
A delusion over his and her’s.
“Mine” she said
As she sat upon his bed.

It is an easy mistake
To make,
To take
Something that you should not possess,
Be it an item of dress
Or a smile
Bought for a little while.

There was a man who suffered from introspection

There was a man who suffered from introspection,
Which frequently led to dejection.
A surrealist, called Mark
Said “your future is dark,
As you are a mere computer projection”!

A burned child dreads the fire

A burned child dreads the fire,
They say,
But, as day follows day,
We see that he
Grasps the hot coal
To his soul,
Again and again,
Despite the pain.

The coal burns
And the child turns
Away,
(Perhaps for a day)
Or so.
Yet back he will go,
To that place I know,
Truth to tell,
All too well.

There was a young man named Jones

There was a young man named Jones
Who’s habit it was to throw stones.
He lived in a glass house,
Along with his spouse.
That unfortunate young man named jones!