There was a young authoress named Leigh
Who said “my writing shall survive me”.
She died one midnight drear
(Twas the middle of the year),
And was buried by critics three!
There was a young authoress named Leigh
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Author Archives: K Morris Poet
Myth Dispelled: Youngsters Do Read!
New York Public Library
I have written before about the reality behind the myth that youngsters no longer read. Now, a Pew Research Center survey has the surprising answer to the question, which adult generation is more likely to have visited a public library in the past year: it’s the Millennials. Yes, the same Millennials widely accused of not reading!
A new analysis of Pew Research Center survey data from fall 2016 finds that 53% of Millennials (those ages 18 to 35 at the time) say they used a library or bookmobile in the previous 12 months. That compares with 45% of Gen Xers, 43% of Baby Boomers and 36% of those in the Silent Generation (it is worth noting that the question wording specifically focused on the use of public libraries, not on-campus academic libraries),
All told, 46% of adults ages 18 and older say they…
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Heels and Fingers
The heels are gone
Yet her scent lingers on.
Delicate fingers
Strummed a tune
That was over all too soon.
There were 2 heads
Laid upon my bed,
Now there is but one
Yet her scent lingers on.
Perfume fades over time
Until all scent is gone
But recollection of heels and fingers
Lingers
On in rhyme.
Venus
I found Venus in my bed.
Well that was her name she said
And I
Can not believe that a goddess would lie …
An Autumn Girl
An autumn girl.
Falling leaves whirl.
Trees naked stand
Their branches reaching for the great sky
And I.
No More
Once I desired the fecund fruit.
Passion’s flute
Sounded loud and clear.
Now I hear
The great tide withdraw.
Venus shall tread no more
On this barren shore.
Set a fly to catch a spider
Diving deep I hold my breath.
Who knows what will creep
Out from this rock
(I am beyond shock),
For this is the World Wide Web where spiders wait
And find too late
That the juicy fly
They hoped to entangle is … I
The Shame Game
Shall we play
The game
Of shame
Where you pass
Moral judgement on me
But fail to see,
In the glass
The slightest trace
Of disgrace
In your own sweet face?
Shall I say
By way
Of defence
That you did such and such?
Tis all too much
And a pretence
Of defence
As 2 wrongs do not make a right.
So we fight
And the bed is cold at night.
There was a young man from Pakistan
There was a young man from Pakistan
Who married a girl called Anne.
She was extremely pretty
And worked in the city
For a man by the name of Dan
Public Speaking
I heard his peroration
About the good of the nation
And how we must all stick together
Through stormy weather.
I heard another
Say all men are my brother.
And rich old Jack
Must give what collective Jill does lack.
Looking back at that hall
I recall
The people cheering.
Others jeering,
And the cynics sneering.
