K. Morris's Blog, page 2

Poet Kevin Morris Reading Keats on the World Poetry Cafe

I recently appeared on the World Poetry Café, which is hosted by Ariadne Sawyer. During my interview, I read several of my own poems. In addition I recited “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn by John Keats.

 

My segment begins approximately 19 minutes into the podcast. To listen to the show please visit World Poetry Cafe Sept 18 2025 Kevin Morris by VictorSchwartzman | Mixcloud

 

In addition to listening online, users of Apple products can download the Mixcloud app, which is available in the A...

A Review of My Poetry Collection, Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death

My thanks to Robbie Cheadle for interviewing me and reviewing my poetry collection, “Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death”. To read my interview and Robbie’s review of “Passing Through”, please visit https://writingtoberead.com/2025/09/17/treasuring-poetry-kevin-morris-shares-about-his-book-passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-and-a-review-poetry-poetrycommunity-treasuringpoetry/

Invisible

The wind is an invisible thing.

We see the waving trees

And leaves blown in the breeze.

I hear the wild wind

But him I do not see.

 

Finding the Quiet in Me

In the early morning

When all is still and quiet

My thoughts run riot.

 

 

Then, the silence takes me

To a place

Where no thought exists in me. ,

And I am free

To simply be

Walking Though the Graveyard in the Pouring Rain

Walking through the graveyard in the pouring rain

I do not feel alone

Nor do I regret the wet

For I can feel the heavy rain

While those who sleep beneath the gravestones

Are company for me.

And these old churchyard trees

Thrive in the rain.

Too Much Latin

There once was a great lover of Latin

Who had a job as a professional assassin.

Whilst reading great Virgil

He became very ill.

That’s what comes of reading too much Latin!

 

 

On a September Day

On a September day

I kicked a stick away.

That branch once danced

In the soft spring air.

 

 

Now I, with no care

Kick it along the forest floor

For it will dance no more

And eventually decay

 

 

I smile today

But in time will find decay.

Childhood

The sound of the ice cream van

Reminds me of my childhood.

I could rhyme of an innocent time

Before I became a man

When all was good.

 

 

But a monster got inside my head.

He is long dead.

Yet still I find in my mind

Him lurking somewhere there.

And I feel that childhood pain again.

 

 

Sometimes I am free

In my poetry.

Autumn Has Come

Autumn has not yet come.

Yet the sun shines

On dry leaves.

 

 

I find in my mind

That Autumn has come

And my leaves

Have Turned to grey.

 

 

But I am still here

In this fading year

Though my May

Has long since run away.

 

We go through birth.

Then, like leaves

We feed the earth.

 

 

But before we fall

We enjoy the bird’s call.

Though none can outrun

The setting sun.

 

 

 

 

Dawn who Like to Eat Acorns

When a young lady known as Dawn

Went and swallowed acorns on the lawn,

And they said to her, “dear!

Trees will sprout from your ear!”,

She said, “pardon!”, and swallowed another acorn