K. Morris's Blog, page 48

Just Another Lover

She knocks on another lover’s door

Although she’s never seen him before.

After a drunken carouse

She loses her blouse

As with other lovers before.

 

His mirror has reflected back

The white and black.

Another lover passing through his door

He’s never seen before.

 

 

He gives her a token.

His love is spoken,

As so many times before

In cold hard gold

Which opens more than doors.

Dover Beach, a Parody

A couple of days ago, I joined a poetry session on Zoom. The theme of the readings was “the sea”. I read 2 poems, one of my own, and Matthew Arnold’s fine poem, Dover Beach, which has long been one of my favourites Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold | Poetry Foundation.

 

Looking out to sea in the company of an unnamed woman, Arnold is reminded of “the turbid ebb and flow of human misery”. “The sea of faith” was once a powerful force holding society together,

“… But now I only hear

Its melancholy, lo...

The Dangers of Catching a Cold

When Rose took all her clothes off

The dear old vicar began to cough.

The weather being cold

Rose was most bold!

And the vicar he developed a cough …!

 

Dog Days

A blog on dogs by my friend Jeff, which also includes a reference to my guide dog Apollo and I, Dog Days | besonian (wordpress.com)

Dave Who Shaved on a Grave

When a young man named Dave

Decided to shave on a grave,

And a ghastly ghoul

Called him a fool,

He gave that knave a shave!

Cardiff Castle Library

In the past, the leisured class

Would have time to feed their minds

In this place of tall bookshelves,

Whilst servants, unseen, would cook and clean.

And the workmen who built this place of stone?

Their names are unknown,

But  perhaps a thoughtful member of the upper class

Thought on those who toiled

And oiled the machine

As he sat at his books.

And knew the whole would collapse

Where not each man to play his part

In maintaining the machine.

 

—

 

This poem was sparked by a recent visit to Cardi...

Post Modern Poetry

The vast majority of my poetry is written in traditional forms (mainly using rhyme). I was therefore interested to come across this blog post on Post Modern poetry https://katyrachelmartin.wordpress.com/2024/07/25/587/

The Scent of Coconut Oil on a Girl’s Hair

Her hair, smelling of Coconut Oil

Takes me back to you.

She too is black.

Once my passion boiled for you

In coconut scented sheets.

I wonder, does her skin

Leave coconut on bedclothes

And does her man’s nose

Linger where bodies meet?

Do I sin

When I yearn for coconuts

Firm to the touch

And  soft skin

I can not touch?

Sugar Babes

When young women with pretty eyes

And loose thighs flirt

With older guys,

And the onlookers tut in disgust,

Sometimes I think, why the fuss,

For girls with pretty eyes,

The wealthy guys,

And those who now criticise,

All will be dust.

Plans for a National Writing Centre

New Writing North is leading a coalition, which includes Hachette UK, Faber and Simon & Schuster UK, to create a state-of-the-art Centre for Writing in Newcastle worth £14m through government funding and so “reposition the southern and London bias of the writing industries”.

 

New Writing North is leading a coalition, which includes Hachette UK, Faber and Simon & Schuster UK, to create a state-of-the-art Centre for Writing in Newcastle worth £14m through government funding and so “reposition the...