K. Morris's Blog, page 565

Lothario Growing Old

As I grow older, my blood cools.
I shall leave fools
To kick against the rules
And retire
From desire,
For the fire
Has burned me to the core.
The flames roar
On occasions still entices.
But no, I will not haggle over prices!
Fools may pursue their own devices
While I drink
The water that cools
And think
On half-forgotten spices.

Reflections: The Illustrated Version

To avoid any confusion, the “Kev” refered to here, is not me, but Kev “Kevin) Cooper.

BOOKS & MUSIC

My name is Patricia. I’m not a writer/author or anything like that, but I do love a good read. I especially love poetry and illustrations. This is why I’m so excited to be here on Book Talk to tell you about Kev’s latest publication: Reflections: The Illustrated Version.

Kev’s newly revised and edited publication of poetry will soon be available, and Kev’s really good friend, Sharmishtha Basu,...

Writing Prompt, “Excuse me, have you got the time please?”

“Excuse me, have you got the time please?”
“No, sorry”.

In the early hours of this morning (Saturday 26 August), I became conscious of my dog wandering around my home. This is, generally a sign that he needs to go out so (with some reluctance given the ungodly hour), I threw on some clothes and took my restless friend outside. I am not at my best of an early morning. Consequently I received quite a shock when a young woman enquired about the time.

On returning home and checking the time, I...

Plates

Once he would wait
In a state
Of needing,
To begin his feeding.
The plate
Would arrive.
Man felt alive
As he ate.
But no,
It was not always so,
For on occasions he would feed
And reluctant to retire,
His greed
Did more desire
Breed.

A wise man did once remark
On this truth stark,
“There is enough for every man’s need,
But not his greed”.
With indifference or hate
Man comes to regard the plate.
But what of the wish
Of the dish?
For do not plates
Have states
Of being?
A dish, itself seeing
Ref...

There Was A Computer Program Named Spot

There was a computer program named Spot
Who knew an awful lot.
He wrote a book
Which the critics mistook,
As a work by a man called Mott!

Struggle

After a while
The smile
Becomes set
In stone,
And yet
Were we not always alone
Waiting for the telephone to ring?
Or, indeed
Anything
To prevent
The descent
Into looking inside
(for woe betide
That we
Should be faced with me).

Or perhaps we call
For the writing on the wall
Says there is no choice,
But conscience’s voice
Whispers “No
You should not go
There”.
The devil in his lair
Replies “you may be gone tomorrow,
Drown your sorrow
And forget
Regret
In desire’s
Never ending fire”.

We awake
An...

There Was A Young Man Named Moat

There was a young man named Moat
Who said “no woman should vote”.
His girlfriend Jill
Replied “You will
Go and collect your coat”!

We Dance In A Ring

We dance in a ring
In spring
When the roses bloom
And little think on winter’s tomb.

We cavort
In the summer sun
With unstaid maid
And give but little thought
To how the deer does run
Towards the setting sun.

In autumn, when leaves fall
We recall
Life’s joys and gall
Ere winter makes a bed
For lover’s head.

The Future of Humans

An interesting post on the possible impacts of technological development on humanity, which is worth reading. For anyone interested in the impact of genetics on humans, the following book may be of interest, https://www.harpercollins.com/9780061235191/remaking-eden.

CORNISH GIRL

Evolution is a funny thing- it means to develop, grow, rise, progress. But what if in a hundred years we find that evolution becomes a circle? What if it is a cycle with a limit of progression which then decreases an...

There Was A Young Lady Named Lou

There was a young lady named Lou
Who wrote a poem about you.
It was extremely salacious
And very vexacious,
But there was nothing I could do!