K. Morris's Blog, page 10

Walking Home in the Pouring Rain

Walking home in the pouring rain

I pondered on AI

And those who continue to maintain

The inevitability of progress.

 

The rain continued to fall.

Although I heard

No human word

Nature seemed to laugh

As I passed

Along the familiar churchyard path.

 

Kevin Morris Poet’s New Show on World Poetry Cafe

I am pleased to let you know that my new show on the World Poetry Café is now live and can be found here https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-july-24-2025-kevin-morris/

As many of you will be aware, I am a regular guest on the World Poetry Café. However, I now have a dedicated monthly show, during which I read and discuss not only my own work but that of others. In this podcast, I read A. E. Housman’s wonderful poem, “On Wenlock Edge” and talked about the life of the poe...

Wet Mops

When young ladies waving very wet mops

Jumped and danced on the table tops,

All the old gentlemen cheered.

While I shaved my beard.

And the waiters they called the cops!

Only 9

When a young lady who is 9

Said, “all boys are far from divine!”,

And with her water pistol

Blasted them all to Bristol!

They forgave her as she’s only 9!

Is English Literature Dying

Is English literature dying? The conclusion of a discussion on the New Statesman’s Youtube channel is that English literature is indeed dying and will be largely replaced by short form videos on Tik Tok, Youtube and other similar channels. You can watch the video here https://www.bing.com/videos/riverview/relatedvideo?q=decline+of+english+literature+new+statesman+youtube&mid=5B236ED81B4763A297425B236ED81B4763A29742&FORM=VIRE

 

The author Mark Twain is said to have remarked that, “reports of my d...

Draughts or Chess

I know an extremely pretty young barmaid

And many a game we have played.

When I say to her, “Bess,

Shall we play draughts or chess?”,

She winks at me does that barmaid …!

When it Rains

When it rains

I try not to complain

For in the drought

Flowers die out

And we all need

To feed on the rain.

Fleeting

Traffic goes by

It’s sound amplified by rain.

A plane flies

In the summer sky

And birds sing.

While I compose my poetry

Touching on eternity

And the fleeting spring.

Heaven

When a beautiful young lady said, “Kevin,

At seven I’ll send you to heaven!”.

I said to her, “darling Heather,

I look forward to the pleasure!”,

Then she produced a pistol at seven!

Perfunctory

After their perfunctory hug

She leaves his flat.

She knows the street is cold.

Though she has never experienced that –

Just his snug flat

Where time passes

In wine glasses.

And 2 bodies meet

Under the unjudging sheet.