Monthly Archives: September 2022

There Once Was a Vampire Named Keith

There once was a vampire named Keith
Who became famous for losing his teeth.
He tried to bite
That feisty Miss White,
Who knocked out all of his teeth!

When I Met a Young Lady Named Grace

When I met a young lady named Grace
Who is possessed of an extremely pretty face,
And I took her to a seedy hotel
(Where the receptionist knows me all too well!
You should have seen that young lady’s face …!

Autumn Birds

I heard Autumn birds
And did think
Of strong drink.
And felt the fire
Of Autumn lust.

Man sates his desire
For sweet forget
In a girl’s arms.
For in dust
All charms
We forget.

How Should Poets Explain Their Poetry?

How should poets explain their poetry?

The above question came into sharp focus for me yesterday evening. I was out in a pub with my friend Brian when we fell into conversation with a couple. During our chat, the subject of poetry came up and I passed a copy of my book “Leaving and Other Poems” to the gentleman and his girlfriend.

Having leafed through Leaving, the gentleman asked me the meaning of my poem “Circular”:

“A circular seat
Encompassing a tree.
Age will defeat
Thee and me”.

In retrospect, I ought to have asked the gentleman for his interpretation of the poem prior to giving my own take on it. However, I did not. Rather, I admitted to not having a complete answer to his question. I went on to say that poems sometimes pop into a poet’s head and are written down without the author being fully aware of the meaning of his own work.

The above brief poem came to me whilst sitting with family on a circular bench in the environs of Woolton Wood (woodland in the village of Woolton in Liverpool). The circular seat reminded me of life, death and rebirth, and it’s circularity also brought to mind eternity.

I explained (somewhat haltingly) my interpretation to my companions, and the gentleman commented that his interpretation accorded with mine.

Despite my explanation of my own poem, I remain of the view that others may interpret it differently. What the poet writes is not (as I say above) always cut and dried in his own mind. The words are there in black and white. He may, at the time of composition, be sure that he knows exactly what he means. But, even after polishing and final publication, his poem remains a living force, open to various interpretations. The poet has lost control over his offspring (if indeed he ever had control in the first place).

As always, I would be interested in the views of you my readers.

(You can find “circular” in “Leaving and Other Poems”, which is available in Kindle and paperback here https://www.amazon.com/Leaving-other-poems-Kevin-Morris/dp/B09R3HR9KG/).

There Was a Young Man of Boulder

There was a young man of Boulder
Who carried a chip on his shoulder.
They said to him, “Matt,
You need to lose that!
Along with that fish on your shoulder!”

Is ‘art’ still art if an AI makes it?

An interesting question. One could ask the same question as regards poetry. Is a poem produced by an AI a real poem? There exist programs which crawl the web and utilise existing poems to create AI generated poetry. The AI is not conscious of what it is doing, but does this mean it’s production does not count as poetry? Through the best poems we are brought to comprehend and feel in our very soul what the poet is saying. When an AI can create a poem of the power of Keats Ode to a Nightingale then, I think we can say that it is capable of true creativity. But, at present AI can not do this, and I think the jury is still out as regards whether it will ever be capable of doing so.

acflory's avatarMeeka's Mind

The picture above was generated by an AI [Futurism].

“The artwork, titled “Théâtre D’opéra Spatial,” depicts a scifi-inspired scene of an opera performance. But Jason Allen, who submitted the artwork, used AI image generator Midjourney to create it.”

https://futurism.com/the-byte/ai-generated-painting-wins-state-fair-fine-arts-competition?utm_souce=mailchimp&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=09012022&utm_source=The+Future+Is&utm_campaign=81882d0b81-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2022_09_01_09_33&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_03cd0a26cd-81882d0b81-247165549&mc_cid=81882d0b81&mc_eid=bbf5c06f50

Further along in the article, Jason Allen talks about how he set up the parameters for Midjourney [the software/AI] to use. Then he chose what he considered to be the best from three outcomes. And it won first prize at the Colorado State Fair.

When I first read this article, my initial reaction was horror. How could a piece of software, no matter how sophisticated, produce something this…beautiful? But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was the parameters set by Jason Allen that had created an image of great beauty, so in that sense, Midjourney was simply another tool.

I admit an AI…

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Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, Queen Elizabeth II

A great lady has passed. I agree entirely with the sentiments expressed in this post. Kevin

JezzieG's avatarFrom the Back of the Wardrobe

In 1947 Queen Elizabeth II, then 21-year-old Princess Elizabeth, made the following oath to devote her life to the service of our nation and the Commonwealth. A promise that she kept until her death today at the age of 96. It is in the keeping of this promise Her Majesty earned the respect of a teenager, and the respect and deep honour of the older man I am now. To live a life of duty, constantly in the public eye cannot of been easy. How many times must she have wanted to just walk away and be done with it? She didn’t. For that I cannot disrespect her, for that I cannot dishonour her – this beautiful girl coming into her womanhood gave us her all, and today we say good bye, Ma’am, and thank you.

I have never known anyone else as my head of state, and ruler of…

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The Price

When I met a young lady named Grice
Who spoke of the great price of vice,
And her friend Miss Spink
Gave me a knowing wink,
I said, “what is the price of spice?”

The Thunder Spoke

The thunder spoke
And I awoke
To heavy rain.
I lay awake
Pondering on lakes
And climate change.

I took pleasure
In rainy weather
As a child
But this wild
Storm warns
Of change.