A tired smile
Hides a guilty denial,
While a sheepish grin
Conceals sin,
Though not very well
For the wise can tell
What lies within
A Tired Smile
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Author Archives: K Morris Poet
There Was A Young Lady Called Lin
There was a young lady called Lin
Who lived in a very large bin,
Until one day
The dustmen took it away,
Which was much to her chagrin!
Velvet
An old man reading Mill
Looks out over the still
Land
Where oaks as ancient institutions stand,
And hears a sound drear,
That of velvet jackboots, approaching near.
Fate
Some say
In a place far away
The gods play dice
And we humans pay the price.
How easy to blame some external force,
“Matters will take their course.
We must to fate submit
And our teeth in the face of adversity grit”.
Macbeth his dagger drew
And ran king Duncan through.
It was his own shame.
No witches where to blame.
We make our own fate,
Though oft we hate
The fact however true,
It was we alone, who ran King Duncan through.
Penned Imagination
There’s magic in weaving words. For a means of evoking one piece of a bigger picture, we look to poetry. While fiction is an escape. A way to enter a new world, experience new things, and walk in someone’s footsteps across the pavements of penned imagination.
© Sarah Doughty
For the ‘Support Insta Writers’ August Prompts
(based on books written by authors in the IG community)
hosted by Tracy and Journee.
Pens And Pavements by @pensandpavements
Make Up
Skin, once perfect as plastic,
Now stretches like an elastic
Band.
Once men would rush to obey her every command.
Now at the mirror she does stand
Make up in hand
Expertly hiding
The lines dividing
Youth
From the truth
Of middle-age.
Dolls
He collected dolls both black and white.
Twas his pain and his delight,
To hold them tight at night.
Few words where said,
As they lay upon his bed
With eyes cold and dead.
He touched their skin so real,
Though love they could not feel.
One doll his heart did steal,
But her passion was unreal.
His soul it turned to steel,
No longer could he feel.
Pet of the Week – Trigger – Right-Hand Man of poet Kevin Morris
Many thanks to Sally for featuring my 4 legged fiend (do I mean friend)? on her blog. To read about the exploits of my guide dog Trigger please take a look at Trigger’s post. Kevin
Lethe
Truth hides
Away
In the day
And slides
Out in dreams
When all seems
Real.
Dreams reveal
Our fears, often in a jumble,
A veritable Tumble
Of confused
Images and thought.
The truth may momentarily be caught
For the dreamer to see,
But frequently wriggles free
As he awakes
And his desire for forgetfulness slakes
In Lethe.
—
Lether means oblivion In ancient greek and was one of the 5 rivers in Hades (the Greek underworld). When the dead drank from the waters of Lethe they would forget their former lives. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lethe.
THE FUTURE LIBRARY
A vote of confidence in the future and a great idea. Kevin
Imagine writing a book only to have it safely stored unseen by anyone for up to 100 years.
This is the reality to which famous writers and poets are subjecting their work as part of The Future Library project.
It all starts with a forest of 1,000 trees planted near Oslo, Norway, which we will be harvested in 100 years and used to print a unique anthology – for people yet to be born! The anthology will be from books, poems or texts submitted by one author per year (one piece of work only) for the next 100 years and apart from its creator no other human being alive will have seen their work.
The creator of this living conceptual artwork is Katie Paterson, a Glaswegian visual artist. Trust is central to this project: trust that there is a future; trust that there will be a future that cares about…
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