K. Morris's Blog, page 640
October 29, 2016
A Bird in My Garden Sang
A bird in my garden sang.
A pang
(I no not why)
Into my heart sprang.
Perhaps it is the knowledge that I will die,
Though birds will still sing
Be it winter or spring,
And bring
A melancholy joy
To girl and boy.
The tears start
When nature’s beauty overpowers.
Countless hours
Has many a poet spent,
His efforts bent
On personifying mother nature,
The creator,
Who has no heart
Yet lives and breathes
Through his art.
October 28, 2016
A Review of my collection of poetry, “Refractions”
I was delighted to receive the below review for my collection of poetry, “Refractions”:
“I was touched with the wisdom and the heart behind the words. To know that the beauty of the world and all its glory is not lost on anyone makes me humbled.
I read and enjoyed all of these works and each one touched me on a different level. I look forward to reading more from Kevin Morris”.
Thank you to the reviewer for taking the time to read and review “Refractions”, which is available, as an ebook in t...
Life
Walking through the tube on my way home.
Alone
In this crowd.
Would
That I could
Be a cloud
Up above.
Yet we are all clouds
Blown hither and thither by crowds,
Trying to keep our identity in the throng
Whose song
Is “Work then home
Alone.
Perhaps a few drinks with the boys or girls
(the social whirl)
Or collapse in front of mindless television
(watching overpaid hosts
On reality TV interviewing ghosts
Who inspire derision, Not fear).
Sometimes we see it clear
But rather than confront the trut...
October 27, 2016
A Short Analysis of T. S. Eliot’s ‘The Fire Sermon’
A reading of the third part of The Waste Land
‘The Fire Sermon’ is the third section of T. S. Eliot’s ground-breaking 1922 poem The Waste Land. Its title is chiefly a reference to the Buddhist Fire Sermon, which encourages the individual to liberate himself (or herself) from suffering through detachment from the five senses and the conscious mind. You can read ‘The Fire Sermon’ here; below we offer a short summary of this section of Eliot’s poem, along with an analysis...
Dogs Dream About Their Owners
A recently published study indicates that it is likely that dogs dream about their owners and that large dogs dream for longer than smaller canines.
The results of this study do not surprise me. I am now working with my fourth guide dog and have, from a young age grown up around dogs. Dogs wag their tails and perform other activities, such as running, growling or yelping while asleep. It is therefore logical (to my mind at least) to assume that our four-legged friends can (and do) dream. Anyo...
October 26, 2016
Alley Cat Meets Wild Dog
An alley cat prowls.
A wild dog growls,
In answer and howls,
Longing for tasty meat
To eat.
Feline
And canine.
Meet
And greet.
Her pointy feet,
Their mutual deceit.
I see a line
Of feline
And Canine,
Never ending,
Wending
It’s weary way
To the place where all must pay.
Can You Guess These Books From Their Emoticons?
A series of emoticons showing various books, including “Peter Rabbit” and “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, some of which are more difficult to guess than others, (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3871186/Can-guess-books-emoticons-Titles-classic-children-s-novels-turned-emoji-tales-quiz-s-bound-leave-baffled.html).
10 of the Best Gothic Poems for Halloween
Some great reading for Halloween.
The best Halloween poems
What are the best poems about Halloween, the best poems for Halloween? In this post, we’ve gathered up a mixture of the two: some of the following ten poems are specifically about Halloween, while others are suitably Gothic poems to enjoy on or around Halloween. So, if you have your pumpkin at the ready, get ready to click on the title of each poem to take you through to a treat rather than a trick…
Robert Ferg...
There Was A Young Lady Called Mary
There was a young lady called Mary
Who worked in a haunted dairy.
On seeing a ghoul
She said, “I am no fool.
You are not in the least bit scary …”!
—
There was a young lady called Mary
Who worked in a haunted dairy.
On seeing a ghoul
And being a fool,
She mistook it for a fairy!
October 25, 2016
Flies
I
Wish that the fly
In the ointment would die,
But worry it will turn into a bee
And sting me.
I
Conjured up the fly.
It grows in size
Which is no surprise
For those who feed
Flies, find they breed.
Man sews
A poisoned seed
Called want, not need
And goes
In search of flies to feed.
