There was a young man called Birch
Who never would go to church.
The vicar did say
“For your soul I shall pray.
You reprehensible young man called Birch!”
Author Archives: K Morris Poet
War of the Dots (History of Codes for the Blind)
As a registered blind person and a braille user, I was interested to read this article regarding the controversy surrounding which braille code should be used. As a blind person growing up in the UK, I was taught to read English Braille. At that time the braille used in the UK did not utilise capitals. As a consequence, when I began to touch-type (using a manual typewriter) I had to learn to use capitals which, as a braille user was initially rather difficult to remember. Today the braille produced here in the UK contains capitals. There are, however many books still available lacking capitals, many of which sit on my bookshelves. The controversy surrounding the introduction of capitals and other changes to the braille code which I have witnessed during my lifetime, pale into insignificance when compared to those detailed in the article. Much of my reading is now done using Job Access with Speech (software which converts text into speech and braille enabling me to use a standard Windows computer or Laptop), or by utilising the text to speech facility on my Kindle. I do, however still enjoy reading braille books and own a small braille library. Kevin
Nothing
How can one repent
When there is no scent
Left behind
For a man to find?
My Forthcoming Collection of Poetry (An Update)
I have now received the proof-read manuscript of my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind And Other Poems”.
So what inspired the title of my collection?
On the bookcase in my living room sits a Ting-Tang clock which dates, I believe from the early 1900’s.
The clock inspired the first poem in my collection (and the title of the book) and is entitled, appropriately enough “My Old Clock I Wind”.
As I wound my faithful old time piece I felt acutely aware of time passing. The pendulum swings and another second is, forever lost.
Next Tuesday (4 April) my friend, Jeff will take a photograph of my clock, which will adorn the front cover of “My Old Clock”.
The photograph and the manuscript will then wing it’s way to my publisher who will produce both an electronic and print version of the book, (I plan to use Moyhill who published my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”, http://moyhill.com/lost/.
Kevin
Stellar Guest Post – Kevin Morris
Many thanks to Nicola for publishing my poem as a guest post on her blog. Kevin
Butter
The cook does mutter
About the missing butter,
While the dog licks his lips
And eyes up the chips …
—
Yesterday (25 March), I found my guide dog Trigger with his nose in a tub of butter. I had heard a crash in the kitchen earlier. however, on investigating and there appearing to be nothing amiss, I returned to the living room, until the sound of my hungry canine tucking into a tub of butter reached my ears!
Chained To The Rhythm (Katy Perry)
Reread, Reread And Reread Again
You have spent eons polishing that poem. Read it through until the words swim like spectres before your eyes and, finally, being satisfied with the results of your labour pressed publish. What a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done flows through one when one’s perfectly crafted words our out there for the great reading public to pour over. A few days later you sit down and reread your pearls of wisdom. Oops your writing which seemed to constitute perfection personified suddenly reveals imperfections.
To take an example from my own work. Below is my poem “Fire” rendered twice. The first rendering appeared on this blog, newauthoronline.com and the second (polished) rewrite can be found in “Dalliance; A Collection of Poetry and Prose”.
Fire As It Appeared On Newauthoronline:
“I have felt the fire at midnight’s hour
It kindles brightly and sinks within the hour.
I have gazed at…
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Visiting the Zoo
Visiting this zoo
I wander through
This ordered place,
Where every wild trace
Is prettily boxed and tied
For the public to see.
A tiger looked at me,
Sighed
And thought of his tea …
There Was An Old Reactionary Called Paul
There was an old reactionary called Paul
Who said “I shall forestall
The coming age”,
So, in rage
He built a very high wall!