K. Morris's Blog, page 719
October 10, 2015
My bookshelves
I thought it would be interesting to share a view of the bookcase in my bedroom. The books in question are all in braille. I have four book cases in total; the one in the bedroom, another in my living room and two in my study/spare room.
K Morris reading an anonymous poem entitled ‘The Bridal Morn’
A selection of books from my bookcase
My bookcase
K Morris reading an anonymous poem entitled ‘The Bridal Morn’
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/oct/08/poem-of-the-week-bridal-morn
An ar...
Ice
The ice in my heart
causes tears to start.
Sometimes the lark doth sing
bringing thoughts of spring.
Flashes of light
In the darkeness of night.
The candle flickers
As Lucifer snickers.
The fire is piled high with coal
But can not unfreeze my soul.
Volcano
She watches the mountain.
Granite spurts as a fountain
out of control
encompassing the whole.
Lava fills her garden.
The rock it will harden
once more.
Another eruption is in store.
October 9, 2015
Belatedly, for National Poetry Day
This made me smile. There is no doubt a grain of truth in this poem
Originally posted on Tallis Steelyard:
The bottles sprawl unheeded
The discarded valiant dead
Their sacrifice accepted
Sobriety has fled
The truth it surfaced briefly
But shrugged and went to bed.
Will you walk again beside me?
Will you tread the path I tread?
The wine it made me wordy
The truth when poured was red
I didn’t mean to speak them
But I meant the words I said.
Why I Started Bibliomad By Olivia Emily
Many thanks to Olivia Emily of Bibliomad for the below guest post. Do please visit Olivia’s blog which can be found here (https://bibliomad.wordpress.com/).
—
Little, fair-haired Olivia flicked through the pages of Narnia, wishing ever-so deeply that she could escape through the back of her wardrobe, just like Lucy did.
But, she couldn’t do that.
Narnia is a fantasy novel, after all, and though it exists in a truthful era, the essence of fantastical concepts is entriely fictitious, much t...
The Poet On The Hill
The poet on the hill
Sits still
And ponders why
Man must die.
The weather is fine
nature or the divine
causes the sun to shine.
Every living thing
Will have it’s spring.
The newly opened flower
time will devour.
The blossom’s heady scent,
is quickly spent.
Men soon disperse
We are lent this earth.
All must enter the dark wood
The bad along with the good.
The poet continues to ponder
While yonder
The light begins to fade.
Man’s destiny is the grave.
Girl About Town
A glamorous bra
To show who you are.
Sharp pointy heels
to seal your deals.
A short red dress
your legs impress.
Your shapely bust
ingenders lust.
While your long blonde hair
Does men ensnare.
“Girl do you possess the art
To reveal your heart?”
October 8, 2015
Peak of Loneliness
Originally posted on arwenaragornstar:
After years
of dedication
a hell of a lot
of stress
a smidgenof luck
a bucketful of pure selfishness
and mighty hard work –
money, success
and power
are now yours to hold
you’ve got what you’ve always wanted
pushed everyone away for
you’ve finally found the fucking match
and set the world on fire
it’s blazing
dazzling
flames
as high as mountains
blue-oranges, reds, yellow-gold
not seen since days of old
Alas,you’re watching that intense glow
completely and...
Pandora
Pandora’s box is deep.
Her mother would weep
Where she to spy
The secrets that within it lie.
Curiosity killed the cat:
His hat
that room.
The moon
still shonne
And the night continued on
October 7, 2015
Saloon Bar
You wow them in the saloon bar
Surely my friend you will go far.
You link
with those who drink
and refuse to think.
The pub goers applaud.
There can be no discord,
We must be protected from the unwashed horde.
A few wise old owls dissent
It’s a big tent
There must be room for dissent.
But the customers hear what they want to hear.
The regulars cheer
Never fear
Your friends are here.
