I wonder
Who makes the thunder.
Is it Thor
Who makes that roar?
The scientist will say
In a most prosaic way
That there is no deity on high
Merely electricity and the endless sky.
I sigh
For the forgotten days of belief.
This life is brief
And scientists say that there is no wonder
In yonder lightning flash
And the crash of thunder,
Yet still I wonder …
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wonder/).
Inchoate desire.
A fire
Fanned by a girl’s sweet scent.
No need to repent
As yet.
Come tomorrow
There will be sorrow
And regret.
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/inchoate/).
There was a young lady called Lou
Who said “I shall thwart you”.
But ere long
She changed her song,
That capricious young lady called Lou!
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/thwart/).
I remember well
The hut.
The rain fell
But
I swear
That I was content there.
Alone I was
Because
I wished it to be so.
I know
The rain and sky
For it is I.
A strange boy was I.
My heart
Given to rain and sky,
Standing aloof from the loud
Crowd
In my hut.
But
Half wishing to be part
Of those who were children as I
Yet knew not of rain and sky.
I see
The key
To my clock
On the bedside table,
As we …
I am unable
To block
The advance
Of time,
Although I can retrace
In rhyme
Many a dance
And half-remembered face.
The clock’s hands are still
Though mine move
And will,
Until
My inner clock
Receives a final shock
Thrusting
Into nothing.
Trusting
In nothing.
A way of coping,
Perchance hoping,
For Something
Of nothing.
I am very excited to be here, on the wonderful blog of poet extraordinaire Kevin Morris, to share with you the news that the third book in the PorterGirl series is here! Sinister Dexter takes us once again to Old College, where things are never quite as they seem, even when they are.
After avoiding the murderous intentions of The Vicious Circle in First Lady Of The Keys and risking life and limb to find a priceless missing painting in The Vanishing Lord, our heroine Deputy Head Porter finds herself once again at the centre of strange and macabre goings-on in the notorious Old College.
One of the oldest and most illustrious educational establishments in the country, Old College boats a bloody and turbulent 400 year old history and the arrival of its first female Deputy Head Porter has done little to calm matters. If anything, it’s made them worse.
We join Deputy Head Porter at the beginning of a new academic year where the induction of a new Bursar – the enigmatic Professor Dexter Sinistrov – causes ructions. With his first act of office being to cut the tea and biscuit budget for the Porters’ Lodge, he makes himself instantly unpopular with the bowler-hatted staff within. But it is more his penchant for poisoning people that really concerns Deputy Head Porter.
Meanwhile, Head Porter appears to be leading a secret double life and The Dean is convinced that Russian spies are after his job. When two dead bodies turn up at the bottom of the College gardens, Deputy Head Porter is determined that there will not be another College cover-up, even if that does mean begrudgingly working alongside unwelcome outsiders DCI Thompson and DS Kirby. Add to that a wayward College drinking society and an ageing Lothario of a professor and Deputy Head Porter really does have her hands full.
Sometimes the opposite of right isn’t wrong. It’s left.
Tragedy strikes once more at Old College… The Porters’ Lodge is down to its last tea bag and no one has seen a biscuit for over a week. Almost as troubling are the two dead bodies at the bottom of the College gardens and a woman has gone missing. The Dean is convinced that occult machinations are to blame, Deputy Head Porter suspects something closer to home.
The formidable DCI Thompson refuses to be sidelined and a rather unpleasant Professor gets his comeuppance.
As the body count rises, Head Porter tries to live a secret double life and The Dean believes his job is under threat from the Russian Secret Service.
Deputy Head Porter finds herself with her hands full keeping Old College running smoothly as well as defending herself against the sinister intentions of the new Bursar.
Spies, poisoning, murder – and none of this would be any problem at all, if only someone would get the biscuits out and put the kettle on…
This is the third instalment of the world-renowned PorterGirl series set in the ancient and esoteric Old College. Author Lucy Brazier opens the lid on a world which has sinister overtones in this cozy, BritLit mystery.
There was a young lady called Fay
Who liked to say “haul away”.
So while out on a boat
In the middle of a moat
I hauled her overboard one day.
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/haul/).
What does it profit a man if he gain a good education
To benefit the nation,
In a subject he comes to loathe?
The wild rose
Goes
Unsmelt
But he dwelt
Amongst those
Who wore fine clothes.
What good does it profit a man if he considers wealth
A supreme good in and of itself?
His health
He loses,
Boozes
Away
To help him cope with his stressful day.
He may pay
For a yacht
But he has got
A hole
Where his soul
Should be.
I can not agree
With those who would level down society
For variety
Is good
And we are not all of the same wood.
Yet to glorify economics at the expense of all else
Leads to an obsession with the self
And rich young things who sit, in groups, alone
Playing with their telephone
There was a young man called Coarse
Who rode a moral high horse.
I did hear tell
How one day he fell.
The people laughed of course.
K Morris - Poet 