K. Morris's Blog, page 820
July 7, 2013
Me reading my poem ‘A Suburban Liverpool Street’
Me reading my poem, ‘A Suburban Liverpool Street’.
‘Boxes’ by Kevin Morris
Me reading my poem entitled ‘Boxes’, hope you enjoy!
‘The Pub’.
Me reading my poem, entitled ‘The Pub’. Hope you enjoy!
July 4, 2013
Writing Time
I have decided to concentrate on my writing for a while. Consequently I won’t be blogging for a while but, rest assured I will be back, you don’t get rid of me that easily! Kevin
July 3, 2013
'I thought of you' by Sara Teasdale
Reblogged from A poem for every day:
I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
And walking up the long beach all alone
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone.
Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me
The cold and sparkling silver of the sea --
We two will pass through death and ages lengthen…
Teasdale is one of my favourite poets and this poem is beautiful.
I DO NOT COMPREHEND
One of my regrets is my inability to speak any language other than my native tongue, English. I don’t know why I should have a mental block so far as learning languages is concerned. I received good marks in both English language and literature a-levels and went on to read history and politics at university which entailed having a good grasp of English. Despite my ability to make foreigners roll about holding their sides with laughter when attempting to converse with them in their native tongue I was pleased to see that my collection of short stories, “Sting In The Tail And Other Stories” is available in German, French and a number of languages which I am unable to speak! Thank goodness for Amazon’s translators whether human or software based! To learn more about Sting In The Tail please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54
Me reading my poem ‘The Snake’.
Me reading my poem, ‘The Snake’. Please bear with any pauses.
Me reading my blank verse poem ‘Stiletto’.
Me reading the poem which appeared on my blog earlier today.
July 2, 2013
Stiletto (fiction)
A black stiletto lost in the throws of passion, kicked to lie far under the bed. Poor shoe forgotten in the heat of love making, forever separated from the perfect smoothness of your slim left leg.
The soft kisses, your arms holding me tight, a simple shoe left bereft at the end of the night.
Come morning the stiletto eluded us.
“It doesn’t matter” you said your soft lips finding mine. Full of the joy of our love making you left your face radiant a single shoe clutched in your hand.
—
You stand perplexity giving way to anger, A slim black stiletto points straight at my heart.
“What is this? It isn’t my size. No lies. Who is she? You bastard”.
