K. Morris's Blog, page 605

Competition to win 2 free copies of my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” (we have one winner but the competition remains open)!

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On Monday 6 March, I offered readers the opportunity to win 2 (free) signed copies of my collection of poetry “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” .

I am delighted to announce that George Agak answered correctly and will receive a signed print copy of “Lost in the Labyrinth”.

For George’s blog please visit HERE.

One copy of “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” remains to be won.

To enter the competition and be in with a chance of winning the one remaining book, please visit HERE.

There Was A Young Man Called Guy

There was a young man called Guy
Who worked in a pig sty.
He was rather posh
And would say “golly and gosh”
To the pigs who lived in that sty!

Competition to win 2 free copies of my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”

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I am giving away 2 free print copies of my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”.

The first 2 people to answer the following question correctly will receive a signed print copy

What is the name of Scrooge’s nephew in Dicken’s novel “A Christmas Carol”?

Please send your answers to me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, (the address is given in this way to defeat spammers).

Please put “Competition” in the subject line of your email.

The best of luck!

Kevin

Graveyard

Often do I have cause
For thought, yet seldom pause
Here for long.
Perhaps it is a strong
Desire to forget my fate
Which leads me, (be it early or late),
Without a backward glance
Lest by some mischance
I see my own ghost,
To post-haste, exit the graveyard gate
And enter again
This temporary realm of men.

Rainbow

The rain does come and go,
Interspersed by the sun’s cheerful light.
I think there might
Be a rainbow
And, at it’s end
A pot of gold,
For the bold
Such as you and I, to find, my friend!
In any event, let us pretend.

(Note: I am not sure about the last line. However it can stand for now).

There Was A Young Libertine Called Mike

There was a young libertine called Mike
Who said “I can do as I like”.
He met an innocent girl named Dawn
Who’s father did warn
“I will end your life with this spike!”

Sterile

The birds
Say more than my words
About this sterile
World which the virile
Rain is making wet.
We forget
That we are part of the whole
And lose our soul
In the daily grind.

Sometimes we find
Rain drops falling,
Calling
To a mind
Which can perhaps reach beyond the pap
Of the photogenic TV personality, who has nothing to say.
But she does our will to live sap
In such a pretty way

Running

As a poet, there is no doubt in my mind that I have a tendency to over intellectualise. This often entails looking on the dark side of life. The beauty of existence is, for me tempered by the knowledge that our time here is brief. As I put it in my poem, “Passing”:

“The sun comes and goes on a cold Autumn day
And I think on fun and how quickly it passeth away.
The flower that bloomed
Is soon entombed,
Or if it blooms still
A rill
Of tears
Marks it’s all too tender years”.

None the less life i...

What Writers Really Do When They Write

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/mar/04/what-writers-really-do-when-they-write

Have I Heard Of You?

“Have I heard of you?” she said.
I shook my head
And made reply
With an audible sigh,
“No for I am not yet dead.
But perhaps a paragraph or two
When I am through,
You will peruse
Before passing on to other news
About some celebrity or other, who has fallen from grace
And after whom our moral guardians chase.

Heaven forbid that I should make page three
For better models than me
Have appeared there,
And I would hate to upstage busty Claire
For we are both art
Of a kind.
Beauty resides in the mi...