“Tell me, what do you see?
As you gaze at yonder tree
Where squirrels jump from branch to branch
And leaves in the late Autumn air dance?
On seeing the fox, who strolls through the garden as though he owns the place
Do you trace in his wild face,
your fellow canine? And does his sharp bark
That oft times pearces the dark
Find an answering echo within your loyal dog heart?
Watching the world pass
Through my window glass,
Tell me
What do you see
As you gaze beyond yonder tree?”
The below poem was inspired by a comment overheard by me while enjoying a drink in a pub last weekend (Saturday 29 October).
—
“This beer tastes like lady’s knickers”, says an elderly man at a table.
Standing at the bar, I am scarcely able
To contain my laughter, and idly think
As I enjoy my drink
“what about a bra
And are
There knickers for the male kind?”
I find
In pubs much amusement
And bemusement.
“How would he know?”
Better not to go
There I think
As I sink
My drink.
“Lady’s Knickers” beer
Would taste most queer.
I shall be boring and stick to a well known brew
Although ‘tis true
I am curious to know.
But better not to go …
Finishing my second pint, I leave.
I perceive
This incident will stay with me.
I shall with glee
Write it down
Though it be
Nothing profound.
The dark is always there
Perceived by the self-aware
Who care
To stare
Beyond the bright lights
And passing sights
Into the ever-present night.
All was still in the church.
No lurch
Of sudden fear
To chill
My heart
As I passed the stones where the dead sleep.
Should I create, for the sake of art
A devil with horn?
No, I am forlorn
For this year
Neither scheming demon
Nor the obscene
Fingers of the dead
Troubled my boring Halloween!
In honour of Halloween, here are links to some of my poems, and other writings with a Halloween and/or a supernatural theme. Enjoy!
There was a young lady called Gale
Whose look made hardened criminals quail.
She met a thug one night
Who, to her delight
Began to weep and wail!
You in that dress,
Trying to impress.
Its anyone’s guess why.
The heater near by,
We sat overheating,
Time eating away,
Though I knew you would stay,
Until break of day.
Come the morn, no cock crew,
Yet I knew we where through,
Until the next time.
O women and wine,
Are truly divine,
And man knows not,
When he has lost the plot …
The clocks have gone back and the weather is cold.
The bold
Venture outdoors.
The temperature underscores
That winter is here
And the year
Is nearing it’s close.
Fingers and toes
Freeze.
There is no breeze,
Only the chill air to please
Senses the all encompassing heat
Would defeat
A bird in my garden sang.
A pang
(I no not why)
Into my heart sprang.
Perhaps it is the knowledge that I will die,
Though birds will still sing
Be it winter or spring,
And bring
A melancholy joy
To girl and boy.
The tears start
When nature’s beauty overpowers.
Countless hours
Has many a poet spent,
His efforts bent
On personifying mother nature,
The creator,
Who has no heart
Yet lives and breathes
Through his art.
I was delighted to receive the below review for my collection of poetry, “Refractions”:
“I was touched with the wisdom and the heart behind the words. To know that the beauty of the world and all its glory is not lost on anyone makes me humbled.
I read and enjoyed all of these works and each one touched me on a different level. I look forward to reading more from Kevin Morris”.
Thank you to the reviewer for taking the time to read and review “Refractions”, which is available, as an ebook in the Amazon Kindle store. For the review please visit, https://www.amazon.com/review/RR1WAIUSHF5PF/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B01L5UC2H2.
