K. Morris's Blog, page 739
June 28, 2015
Can One Place A Value On Artistic Creations?
“Cecil Graham: What is a cynic?
Lord Darlington: A man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.
Cecil Graham: And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man who sees an absurd value in everything and doesn’t know the market price of any single
thing.”
(Oscar Wilde. Lady Windermere’s Fan).
According to the above, I am a sentimentalist for I had no idea what price to attach to my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”. Indeed I must confess to finding the a...
June 27, 2015
The Guest – A Guest Post By Victo Dolore
Many thanks to Victo Dolore for the below guest post. If you haven’t already checked out Victo’s blog please do so. She writes with humanity and humour about the medical world and so much more, (https://doctorly.wordpress.com/).
—
The Guest
The headmaster was standing at the back of the room in his brown suit and brown tie, his arms crossed somberly across his chest. He was a serious man who
never joked, never smiled.
I was nervous just looking at him.
It was my second grade class and it...
A Walk to Destiny – A short story from 2013
Originally posted on Jane Risdon:
I do hope you enjoy this story
whichI originally wrote for inclusion in an anthology benefitting aCharity for Domestic Abuse.
Sadly the anthology never materialised.
It was later published by Morgen Bailey on her Writing Blog.
There isn’t a murder or a crime – as such…
Here it is again.
I thought I’d add some photos (taken by me) to add some colour.
This stile features in My short story; A Walk To Destiny. (c) Jane Risdon 2012 – links on my blog-roll
A Walk...
To A Mail Order Bride And Her Husband
Passion fragile as glass
Bliss empty as the passing of cash.
Love that endures while money lasts.
Lonleness yawns, it’s mouth vast
Castles
Originally posted on newauthoronline:
She smiled, awhile I tarried there, fashioned castles out of air. She laughed, set my heart aflame, tis love, or my overactive brain.
I think of her but who is she? A bird encaged longing to be free? Is she content in her cage? Or does she beat the bars with rage? Do I put my thoughts on her? Building castles in the air? Who am I? who is she? Both are struggling to be free.
The Cynic
There is no love, only lust.
There is no flesh, tis but dust.
There is no joy, only moan.
Friendship tis fleeting, man dies alone.
“Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” Is Available To Purchase From Bookseller Crow In Crystal Palace
I am pleased to announce that my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” is available to purchase from Bookseller Crow in Crystal Palace, (http://booksellercrow.co.uk/). Print copies can also be obtained by contacting me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, (please put “Dalliance” in the subject line). “Dalliance is also available as an ebook from Amazon, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dalliance-collection-poetry-prose-Morris-ebook/dp/B00QQVJC7E). Below are examples of the poetry to b...
June 25, 2015
Authors! Your Free Book Is Worthless
Tara makes some good points. However I think the picture is rather more complex than portrayed in her post. For the author just starting out with few (if any) followers on social media programmes such as Amazon’s KDP Select can help to bring their work to the attention of people who, otherwise would have been unaware of it. For authors with a bigger following on their blogs or via other social media the use of giveaways may be less effective. My book, “Dalliance; A Coll...
June 24, 2015
K Morris Featured Poet On Laura A Lord’s Website
Many thanks to Laura A Lord for featuring me on her website, (http://lauraalord.com/2015/06/24/kevin-morris-featured-poet/).
Kevin
June 23, 2015
The Solitary Reaper By William Wordsworth
I must confess to not being a lover of all Wordsworth’s poetry. I do, however derive considerable pleasure from the poet’s “The Solitary Reaper”:
“Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,...
