There once was a young lady called Miss Fox
Who placed lots of ads in a phone box.
An elderly vicar named Glyn
Spoke of wickedness and sin
As he called Miss Fox from that telephone box …!
Miss Fox and the Telephone Box
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Monthly Archives: September 2025
Being Discrete
I met a young lady of a certain profession
Who said, “sir, do please show some discretion!”,
Her name is Miss Bess
And here is her address –
But no! I think I should show more discretion!
Forestry
I listen dutifully as he speaks of forestry.
A soft breeze whispers in trees
And I am far away where wind plays
Through the forest and through me.
Poet Kevin Morris Reading Keats on the World Poetry Cafe
I recently appeared on the World Poetry Café, which is hosted by Ariadne Sawyer. During my interview, I read several of my own poems. In addition I recited “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn by John Keats.
My segment begins approximately 19 minutes into the podcast. To listen to the show please visit World Poetry Cafe Sept 18 2025 Kevin Morris by VictorSchwartzman | Mixcloud
In addition to listening online, users of Apple products can download the Mixcloud app, which is available in the Apps store, and listen on iPhones, iPads Etc.
A Review of My Poetry Collection, Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death
My thanks to Robbie Cheadle for interviewing me and reviewing my poetry collection, “Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death”. To read my interview and Robbie’s review of “Passing Through”, please visit https://writingtoberead.com/2025/09/17/treasuring-poetry-kevin-morris-shares-about-his-book-passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-and-a-review-poetry-poetrycommunity-treasuringpoetry/
Invisible
The wind is an invisible thing.
We see the waving trees
And leaves blown in the breeze.
I hear the wild wind
But him I do not see.
Finding the Quiet in Me
In the early morning
When all is still and quiet
My thoughts run riot.
Then, the silence takes me
To a place
Where no thought exists in me. ,
And I am free
To simply be
Walking Though the Graveyard in the Pouring Rain
Walking through the graveyard in the pouring rain
I do not feel alone
Nor do I regret the wet
For I can feel the heavy rain
While those who sleep beneath the gravestones
Are company for me.
And these old churchyard trees
Thrive in the rain.
Too Much Latin
There once was a great lover of Latin
Who had a job as a professional assassin.
Whilst reading great Virgil
He became very ill.
That’s what comes of reading too much Latin!
On a September Day
On a September day
I kicked a stick away.
That branch once danced
In the soft spring air.
Now I, with no care
Kick it along the forest floor
For it will dance no more
And eventually decay
I smile today
But in time will find decay.
K Morris - Poet 