K. Morris's Blog, page 712
November 9, 2015
Quote Of The Day
“If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies
on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity”.
(Middlemarch Chapter XX, http://www.victorianlondon.org/etexts/eliot/middlemarch-0020.shtml).
November 8, 2015
Can I touch Your Face?
Being blind
I sometimes find
myself wondering what women look like.
With little sight
it is impossible to tell
so why do I on this subject dwell?
I do perceive
that a voice may deceive.
Girlish tones
Can belong to old crones.
A scent draws me in
thoughts of skin
and sin.
“Would you like to touch my face?”
“This is not the place
my dear.
People are near.
Besides we have only just met.
I don’t even know your name yet”!
She lingers.
Thinking of sensitive fingers
Loss of sight
does not equal no d...
The Dark
Closing my curtain
I shut out the night
And the fireworks
Celebrating something
but precisely what
I am uncertain.
While beyond my drapes
The dark
patiently waits …
Poem by an Unknown Soldier Written During WWII
In honour of those who fought and died for freedom I am re-blogging this. Kevin
Originally posted on Sarah's Bookshelf:
Today’s post is a little different. As Rememberance Sunday, I thought I should post something topical, something that will allow us to remember those who died, and what they fought for.
_________________________
Stay with me God, the night is dark!
The night is cold; my little spark
Of courage dims, the night is long.
Be with me God and make me strong....
Penelope’s Complaint
Don’t give me all this stuff about sacking Troy.
You have been shacked up with some girl or boy!
You spin me a line
About men turned into swine.
I am sick of hearing of Circe
And your struggle to be free
Of her.
I’m fed up with affair after affair!
As for that painted nymph
On a plinth
Calypso
No doubt she let you go
When she saw how you guzzle your food
In a manner most rude.
Or was she a prude
And was it your language so crude
That caused her to shout
And throw you out?!
Be off once more to...
Lotus
I have wandered long
battling strong
waves
that have dragged comrades to their graves.
Now on this island I could stay
for lotus takes the pain away.
Those who eat of the flower
lose many an hour
in sweet dream.
Penelope is far.
The star
shines above.
I see love
and peace.
My journeying could cease
here.
Yet I fear
the gods
who rob
men of peace.
No, my wanderings may not cease.
I must to my deck.
The island now a mere speck
on the skyline.
I must trust to the divine
who rule
we mortal fools.
...
“La Belle Dame sans Merci” by John Keats
I have long been intrigued by John Keat’s poem “La Belle Dame sans Merci” (“The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy”).
“O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the mea...
VR
Is man’s destiny to slowly fade away?
to be lost in perpetual play?
The gosimer thin thread
in his head
breaks
and he takes
a step over the abyss
to wallow in bliss
where machines dream
and Alice is not who she seems.
The sun rises.
There are prizes
For the movers and shakers.
To be caught in a movie maker’s
dream,
a scene
from which there can be no escape.
As we roll with the never ending tape.
(The above was prompted by an article in yesterday’s Guardian, http://www.theguardian.com/busines...
November 7, 2015
Fruit
The fruit grows within easy reach.
How simple to take a peach
Or plum.
How delightfully does temptation come.
The juice turns to gall.
Better to let the fruit fall
or be gathered by other hands.
But desire commands
us to pick
and sip.
The devil’s tune seems sweet
and once our feet
begin to dance
We have no chance
To stop
but must waltz until we drop.
My lover, Lord Alfred Douglas.
Wilde’s “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” is moving and well worth reading. Kevin
Originally posted on e-Tinkerbell:
Lord AlfredDouglas, nicknamed Bosie, was ayoung aristocratandpoet, the youngest son of the Marquess ofQueensberry. He looked like an angel: fragile, with averypalecomplexion,blonde hair and blue eyes, but often appearances can be deceptive and this case was no exception. The story of his relationship with Wilde began in 1892. Bosies’s cousin, Lionel Johnson,...
