K. Morris's Blog, page 77

I Check My Feet

I check my feet.

The skin underneath

Has begun to crease

And my toes

Are sometimes stiff.

I am growing old.

 

I can not deny

My middle age.

But when girl’s feet

Pass me by

I know only dust

Will defeat my lust.

Love in the Wood

In the sunlit wood

I heard

The sound of love.

No word

Did I hear.

Simply the bliss

Of young lover’s lips

Came softly to me

As a bird

In a tree

Mimicked kisses for me.

Obsession

Why do I

Obsess over fallen leaves?

Should I lie

And try to pretend

There is no end?

 

Trees do not  grieve

For fallen leaves.

Nor will I,

For all must die.

 

Yet I see

A poignant beauty

In these bare trees

And Autumn leaves.

Poet Kevin Morris’s Interview on the World Poetry Reading Series

On Monday 2 October, I was interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series. During my interview, I read several of my poems and talked about what inspires me to compose poetry. In addition, I answered several questions, including 1 from a listener who asked how to start writing poetry and how to deal with criticism.

 

To listen to the podcast please visit https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-for-october-5-with-kevin-morris-and-vani-pradeep/?utm_source=not...

A Girl’s Lost Socks

She looked

For her lost socks

In my flat.

 

 

On looking

I have found that

A lost earring

Or similar such thing

Is easily discovered

In bedcovers.

 

 

She found her socks

And I pleasure.

But, I wonder whether

I have lost

The capacity to love.

 

Now I’ve Passed the Half Century Mark

Now I’ve passed the half century mark

And the dark

Of night no longer hides from sight,

A girl’s hand

Laid on my arm

And the charm

Of her dark hair

Can still command

My poet’s heart and art.

 

All you said,

Was “take care”,

But your long black hair

And open heart

Brought the thought of bed

Where no lover does grace

The vacant space.

Aeolus

In this temple, open to the air,

I feel you everywhere.

These Doric Columns speak of our yesterday.

But you will stay

When I and they

Are but clay.

 

 

These ancient Yew

And Redwood trees

Have heard wind sing

Over long centuries.

But your cold blast

Will outlast the Yew.

 

—

 

This poem stems from a visit to the temple of Aeolus in Kew Gardens with my friend Brian on 29 September 2023. You can find out a little about the temple here, https://www.kew.org/kew-gardens/whats-in-the-gardens/woodland-...

Kidnapped

I awoke on an island with seals

And spied a young lady in heels.

When I said, “my dear,

How did we get here!”,

She said, “we got kidnapped by seals!”.

I Am Not Indifferent to the Charms

I am not indifferent to the charms

Of a young woman’s arms.

So when your arm wound around me

Of course I was flattered

For you are much younger than me.

 

 

I have had dreams shattered

So will believe that it was merely

Out of friendly regard

That your youthful arm

Wound around me.

 

In the churchyard

On my way home alone

I passed by cold stones

And contrasted their charms

With your warm arms.

My Dear Friend the Beautiful Miss Lee

My dear friend the beautiful Miss Lee

Has won prizes for her erotic poetry.

She came round last night

With a girl called white

And we played at cards till 3.