K. Morris's Blog, page 554

Shadows

On such a day, when the winter sun
Casts my shadow upon yonder wall,
It is difficult to recall
That all
This will, one day, be done.

In future, will some other one, sitting here and seeing their shadow fall
Upon this self-same wall,
Know that they may not forestall
The night
Where dancing shadows are forever lost from sight.

—
(Written on 3 December 2016, while sitting in my study).

—

(Note: “Shadows” can be found in my latest collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, which is available...

There was a young man named Meek

There was a young man named Meek
Who’s view of the world was bleak.
When I bought him a beer
He said “the world is so drear,
I shall drink for the rest of the week!”

There was a young authoress named Leigh

There was a young authoress named Leigh
Who said “my writing shall survive me”.
She died one midnight drear
(Twas the middle of the year),
And was buried by critics three!

Myth Dispelled: Youngsters Do Read!

Nicholas C. Rossis

New York Public Library

I have written before about the reality behind the myth that youngsters no longer read. Now, a Pew Research Center survey has the surprising answer to the question, which adult generation is more likely to have visited a public library in the past year: it’s the Millennials. Yes, the same Millennials widely accused of not reading!

A new analysis of Pew Research Center survey data from fall 2016 finds that 53% of Millennials (those ages 18 to 35 at...

Heels and Fingers

The heels are gone
Yet her scent lingers on.
Delicate fingers
Strummed a tune
That was over all too soon.

There were 2 heads
Laid upon my bed,
Now there is but one
Yet her scent lingers on.

Perfume fades over time
Until all scent is gone
But recollection of heels and fingers
Lingers
On in rhyme.

Venus

I found Venus in my bed.
Well that was her name she said
And I
Can not believe that a goddess would lie …

An Autumn Girl

An autumn girl.
Falling leaves whirl.
Trees naked stand
Their branches reaching for the great sky
And I.

No More

Once I desired the fecund fruit.
Passion’s flute
Sounded loud and clear.
Now I hear
The great tide withdraw.
Venus shall tread no more
On this barren shore.

Set a fly to catch a spider

Diving deep I hold my breath.
Who knows what will creep
Out from this rock
(I am beyond shock),
For this is the World Wide Web where spiders wait
And find too late
That the juicy fly
They hoped to entangle is … I

The Shame Game

Shall we play
The game
Of shame
Where you pass
Moral judgement on me
But fail to see,
In the glass
The slightest trace
Of disgrace
In your own sweet face?

Shall I say
By way
Of defence
That you did such and such?
Tis all too much
And a pretence
Of defence
As 2 wrongs do not make a right.
So we fight
And the bed is cold at night.