There was a young lady named Claire
Who had a steamy affair.
Her boyfriend Ned
Caught her in bed.
I swear I wasn’t there …!
There was a young lady named Claire
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Author Archives: K Morris Poet
Getting your self-published books into libraries
A useful article on how to get self-published books into libraries.
I know from my own experience, that approaching libraries directly is a productive means of getting your work onto their shelves.
I was delighted when Liverpool Central Library, wrote to confirm that they had added 2 copies of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, (http://moyhill.com/clock/), to their shelves.
As a result of me contacting Swansea University (my former place of study), they kindly accepted my donation of one copy of “My Old Clock”.
Consequently, from my own experience I can say that getting your self-published books into libraries is perfectly possible.
I knew a man who sought
I knew a man who sought
The wild bird
Who’s song he heard,
And once caught,
Oh, how he wept at the damage wrought.
The hay is soft
The hay
Is soft.
Time gently coughed,
As man and maiden lay,
Heedless of how the day
Passeth away
Shall I speak
Shall I speak of turtle doves
And innocent loves,
and a world where all are good
And do as they should?
Shall I talk of men upright
Who say “good night”,
And leave,
And never deceive?
Or shall I speak
Of the flesh that is weak
And men who seek
For the discreet door?
I know which you would prefer,
But a circle is not a square
And squire and maid
Are not always staid.
Walking through the churchyard, I saw a shape
Walking through the churchyard, I saw a shape.
There can be no escape
From the tomb.
The gloom
Is there
For those who care
To look beyond a sunny day.
continuing on my way
I passed that tree,
That did loom
Over tomb
And me.
There was a young model named Louise
There was a young model named Louise
Who liked her audience to please.
When she appeared on the catwalk,
The judges reached for a fawk,
As her dress it was made of peas!
Why do I strive, for that which I can not possess?
Why do I strive, for that which I can not possess?
Is the sun’s caress
Not enough
That I must grasp at other stuff?
Caught
On the wheel
Of thought
I feel
That I aught …
Be done
With useless thinking.
I shall at life’s fountain be drinking,
For existence doth run
Away,
And I can not reclaim a single day
Spent,
In thinking on a nymph’s unknowable scent.
Lothario Growing Old
As I grow older, my blood cools.
I shall leave fools
To kick against the rules
And retire
From desire,
For the fire
Has burned me to the core.
The flames roar
On occasions still entices.
But no, I will not haggle over prices!
Fools may pursue their own devices
While I drink
The water that cools
And think
On half-forgotten spices.
Reflections: The Illustrated Version
To avoid any confusion, the “Kev” refered to here, is not me, but Kev “Kevin) Cooper.
