Lost in a girl’s eyes
A poet dies
In midnight sighs,
Yet in love’s dance,
Perchance, a poem is born
Lost In A Girl’s Eyes
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Monthly Archives: March 2019
Kevin Morris reading his poem ‘To my dog Trigger, who lay on my book’.
A poem written about my four-legged friend, Trigger. As I say in my poem, dogs have such short lives compared to we humans, yet they give so much to us.
While drinking in my favourite local pub, The Railway Bell (http://www.rampubcompany.co.uk/visit-pubs/railway-bell), I left my rucksack, which contained a copy of my book ‘Lost in the Labyrinth of my mind’ (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-labyrinth-my-mind-Morris-ebook/dp/B01AF5EPVY) on the floor. My guide dog Trigger made himself comfortable on both book and rucksack, creasing ‘Lost’s pages, which led to the composition of this poem.
The poem can be found in Refractions: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Refractions-K-MORRIS-ebook/dp/B01L5UC2H2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1488112246&sr=1-1&keywords=refractions+k+morris
While Out Walking In A Maze
While out walking in a maze
A young lady did my poems praise.
She called me “sweet honey”,
And when she asked me for money,
I said, “the cattle they peacefully graze!”.
When A Corpse Being Conveyed In A Hearse
When a corpse being conveyed in a hearse
Composed a poem all in free verse,
An undertaker named Heather
Said, “you are extremely clever,
But I really don’t like free verse!”.
A Young Lady Whose Name is Beth
A young lady whose name is Beth
Went out seeking for Death,
But Death, finding her attentions intrusive,
Became very elusive,
So she’s ancient, and searching for Death.
Rhyme Or Verse Free
I spend much of my time
Composing in rhyme,
But do not therefore curse
Free verse,
For sometimes that shoe
Will do
Very well,
While to force a rhyme
(where no rhyme should be)
Is to mangle poetry.
When A Very Old Man Of Stroud
When a very old man of Stroud
Said, “death be not proud”,
Death replied, “you know,
We must together go,
And leave this earthly crowd”.
In Woods Green
In woods green
Nymphs were sometimes seen
By mortal men.
Now when
Girls I see in short clothes,
Their toes
Bare, to the sultry air
I wonder where
All the inocence has gone.
Yet Aphrodite
Was flighty
(Was she not?,
And on hot
London nights
Phone calls will be made
And visits paid
By aphrodite, to oh so mortal men
Men Mowing
As I at lessons sat
In school
(Generally obeying the rule),
I oft did hear,
Sometimes far, at others near,
A sound clear,
That of men mowing,
Knowing where they where going.
On my way home tonight
I had the delight
Of smelling new mown grass,
Which brought to mind
A more settled time
When I at lessons sat
Reading rhyme,
And men were amowing
Knowing where they where going.
Sometimes I almost weep,
When I think on what my country may reap.
The Girl Who Wasn’t There, by K Morris
In September 2015, I released “The Girl Who Wasn’t there”. You can find a book trailer (which includes me reading “Dolls”, a poem included in this collection, here
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHUILxyRcRQ.
You can find “The Girl Who Wasn’t There” on Amazon
For a video of my friend, Shanelle reading the title poem please see below
K Morris - Poet 