K. Morris's Blog, page 710
November 21, 2015
…and Emily Dickinson spoke!
I recently purchased Dickinson’s poetry. An interesting poet who lived a solitary life writing about nature, love and death. Kevin
Originally posted on Purplerays:
Photo credit: https://www.facebook.com/SimpleStepsRealChange
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.”
― Emily Dickinson
Source: http://www.goodreads.com/auth...
The Things Men Do
The things men do,
The words they say,
Little thinking that they must pay.
The secret trist.
Man can not resist.
perfume on a girl’s wrist.
A stray hair
upon the stair.
You swear
she wasn’t there.
The crumpled bed.
The dread
of neighbours who tell
How they heard the bell
ring late
and reveal
the click of heel
On stair.
You swear
She wasn’t there!
The End Of The Line
You have reached the end
of the line my friend.
You must descend
and fight your way through the crush.
Good luck as you rush
to your goal.
But mind the hole
between the train and the platform.
For the gap doth yawn!
—
Several days ago, I was travelling on the train from Gipsy Hill to London Victoria. On arrival at Victoria a fellow passenger asked whether the train had arrived at it’s destination. This inspired the above poem.
Kevin
November 19, 2015
Look Back On Time With Kindly Eyes By Emily Dickinson
I came across the below poem while browsing through a recently acquired collection of the poems of Emily Dickinson.
—
Look back on time with kindly eyes,
He doubtless did his best;
How softly sinks his trembling sun
In human nature’s west!
My Muse
I will not play tonight she said
shaking her flirtacious head.
But tomorrow who knows
for that is the way writing goes
The Garden
Warm summer days.
The haze
of belief.
Time is a thief
that steals
our ideals.
The secluded garden.
Ideas that harden.
The truth
youth
doth know
Oft ends in woe.
A book.
The path forsook.
The backward look
to a place
lost in mist
he can not resist.
November 18, 2015
White Nightdress
Originally posted on Just Another Impurity:
Hanging from the floor
with nowhere to go.
White nightdress limp
on broken frame.
Memories singing sweet nightmares
of reality.
Images of white rooms
with white walls
and white doctors
flood the white mind.
They took her in,
the girl –
the rag doll.
They filled her with pills
till giddy delight
was forced upon
an exhausted body.
White
she remembers.
White.
She was the blackboard
and now she is the chalk.
Hurricane
I want to come in.
The din
I make.
The trees I shake.
I awake
the old fear
Of nature wild and near.
People quale indoors.
There is no applause
when the gale doth come.
Animals run
for shelter
helter skelter
seeking release
from the hurricane’s teeth.
The morning brings peace
And trees
Lying amongst fallen leaves.
November 16, 2015
The Bad Poet (Humour)
He tried to make his verse rhyme
But it became worser and worser.
‘Twas perverse
To see
Dog rhyme with tree.
He cudgelled his brains to produce poetry fine
And was convinced beer rhymes with wine.
Inspiration from the great poets he took
And was certain Emily Dickinson
Was Brontae’s sister
And Heathcliff could not resist her.
Finally from the top of Wuthering Heights
He jumped
Hitting the moors with a plop
But his bad poems
Just would not halt.
It was his very great fault
He did not decease
A...
November 15, 2015
Kevin Morris reading a further selection of his poetry
A selection of poems by Kevin Morris, read by yours truly :)
https://www.youtube.com/user/101drewdog
