Society rides
The tides
Of collectivism
And individualism.
Whilst in Highgate
Spencer and Marx
Continue their decay.
(Note: Karl Marx’s grave in Highgate Cemetery is almost directly opposite to that of the champion of liberal individualism, Herbert Spencer. See https://highgatecemetery.org/visit/cemetery/east#featurephoto71).
Whilst sitting at my rather good luncheon
I got hit by a squeaky truncheon!
I said to Claire,
“Now hold on there!
I didn’t request a truncheon for luncheon!”
A most philosophical young lady named Miss Page
Said, “this world is but an unreal stage.
But, let us 2 dance
And perchance find some romance”.
So we did, and crashed through the stage!
There once was a young lady named Price
Who was known for her love of dice.
She would play for hours
With that rakish Lord Flowers.
And then she would return to her dice.
With our digital device
We hear not
The inexorable clock.
But virtue and vice
Heed time’s great knock.
Petite.
Desired.
She inspired
A poem of stilettoed feet
And the thought of ought.
And meet.
I am pleased to announce that a podcast of my interview on Vancouver Co-Op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series is now available and can be found here, http://www.coopradio.org/content/world-poetry-caf%C3%A9-186. The show was broadcast at 9 pm (UK time) on Thursday 26 August, and my segment begins approximately 18 minutes into the podcast. In addition, at the end of the show I read my poem “My Old Clock I Wind”.
My thanks to Ariadne Sawyer of The World Poetry Reading Series for her kindness in allowing me to read and discuss my poetry.
There was a young lady named Spink
Who was known for her unusual kink.
A vicar called Brown
Wore Spinks’s silk gown.
And Spink she lived in his sink!
This post brought to mind these lines of A.E. Housman: “Good creatures, do you love your lives
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky,
And earth’s foundations will depart
And all you folk will die.” Its an interesting and thought provoking read (this post of course and Housman’s brief poem). Kevin
It came to me in a flash that when I die, the whole world will come to an end; not just for me, but for everyone in it, as far as I’m concerned. Now, I’m not a great one for philosophical thinking: existentialism, for me, might as well not… er, well… exist, but I do find it slightly comforting to know that the whole universe can only exist for as long as I am in it. When I cease to be, everything ceases to be. Unfortunately, from the same view point, it will never have been in the first place – so, not much point in keeping backups of everything on the computer is there?
If this all seems uncomfortably close to the I can’t see you, therefore you can’t see me view of a child playing Hide and Seek, well, that is entirely consistent with everything that…
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She has not much to lose
Save for her shoes,
For her legs are almost bare
To the summer air.
And one must confess
That’s not much of a dress.
But when attending confession
She shows some discretion.
So lets not cast aspersions
Nor bear a grudge
For I have heard assertions
Her favourite is a judge!
K Morris - Poet 