K. Morris's Blog, page 738
July 5, 2015
The Writer’s Curse
The candles shone on the girl’s long black hair, which cascaded over her slim bare shoulders. Angela had chosen the expensive strapless dress with great care, after all it isn’t often that a young woman is invited out to dinner in what is, by many considered to be the capital’s top restaurant and with one of London’s leading celebrities to boot.
“Thank you for the meal”, she said fixing her soft brown eyes on those of her companion, “the food was wonderful”.
Angela’s companion heard not a wor...
July 4, 2015
Answers every Retail worker wants to give
This is a great post and obviously comes from the heart. Many retail workers put up with a great deal from customers. However the interaction between store employee and customer cuts both ways.
Retail worker to me: “Can I help you?”
Me: “No, I have just been standing in this queue for the last 10 minutes purely for the good of my health”.
Particularly stupid store security guard to me: “Is that a guide dog?”
Me: “No, I am pretending to be blind and dress my dog up in hi...
In A House Sitting By An Open Garden Door
Wind chimes.
A clock measuring time.
Summer breeze from open door.
The heart is at peace, who can ask for more?
July 3, 2015
Roses
Oft he sought the perfect rose,
Enjoyed the flower where it grows.
Soon he found the blooms did pall,,
His dalliances they turn to gall.
Still he after pleasure strove,
Clutched noisome blossoms to his nose.
Thorns they speared him through the heart,
Still his desire did not depart.
They found him lying on a bed cold,
In his hand a fading rose.
July 1, 2015
Summer Ball
Summer ball
Scented park at evenfall
Owl’s haunting call
Girl’s teasing words
Perhaps misheard
Oh vanity, how absurd!
June 30, 2015
Take Me Home With You. For A Small Fee, Of Course.
Lucy Brazier, the author of “Secret Diary of Porter girl” has featured on Newauthoronline previously. Lucy’s writing is amusing and her blog (and now the book) are well worth reading. Kevin
Originally posted on Secret Diary Of PorterGirl:
Secret Diary Of PorterGirl is now available!
Available from all good retailers (and some bad ones too, no doubt), but this link hereis as good as any to get your hands on a copy of the book.
June 29, 2015
The Wolf And The Owl
The wise old owl scowled,
At the lone grey wolf who howled,
As she prowled,
Intent on deeds most foul,
Under the rising moon.
Said the owl, “Must you howl,
In a manner quite so foul?
You cause my head to ache,
Go and jump in yonder lake.
Said the wolf, “Make no mistake,
It is getting late,
The lake is freezing cold,
And I am not so bold”.
June 28, 2015
Is Blogging A Waste Of Time?
A post in which L. L. Barkat argues that it is time for writers to stop blogging, (http://janefriedman.com/2013/03/15/its-time-for-many-experienced-writers-to-stop-blogging/). As an author with a blog and someone who blogs often, I don’t agree with Barkat’s perspective. Her views do, however deserve a hearing.
Barkat’s main argument is that most blogs receive comparatively few views so writers would be better spending their time (that not reserved for writing books) composing articles for sit...
Can One Place A Value On Artistic Creations?
“Cecil Graham: What is a cynic?
Lord Darlington: A man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.
Cecil Graham: And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man who sees an absurd value in everything and doesn’t know the market price of any single
thing.”
(Oscar Wilde. Lady Windermere’s Fan).
According to the above, I am a sentimentalist for I had no idea what price to attach to my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”. Indeed I must confess to finding the a...
June 27, 2015
The Guest – A Guest Post By Victo Dolore
Many thanks to Victo Dolore for the below guest post. If you haven’t already checked out Victo’s blog please do so. She writes with humanity and humour about the medical world and so much more, (https://doctorly.wordpress.com/).
—
The Guest
The headmaster was standing at the back of the room in his brown suit and brown tie, his arms crossed somberly across his chest. He was a serious man who
never joked, never smiled.
I was nervous just looking at him.
It was my second grade class and it...
