There was a young lady called Jane
Who was extremely fond of the rain.
When the weather was dry,
It made her cry,
And she lived on the American plain
There Was A Young Lady Called Jane
Leave a reply
Category Archives: creative writing
Problems in listening to the podcast of my interview on the World Poetry Reading Series
I would like to apologise for the difficulties encountered by some readers when attempting to listen to the podcast of my recent interview on Vancouver Co-op Radio. Several people, (including my own dear mum)! Have contacted me saying that they could not access the broadcast (a link to which can be found here, http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=11765).
Having (initially) been able to listen to the programme, I was unaware of the problems experienced by others in accessing the broadcast. However, having encountered the same problem while attempting to listen earlier today, I contacted Vancouver Co-op Radio and received the following response which does, essentially boil down to the need to use Google Chrome:
“Our archives are flash based and Google does not support Flash any longer. As an under-resourced organization, we are not in the position to upgrade to
HTML5 for our players until the earliest at the end of 2017.
You can, however, enable flash in your browser. Ensure you have the latest updated version of Google Chrome and you can read the following to help you
understand what is happening:
http://www.pcadvisor.co.uk/how-to/internet/how-stop-flash-crashing-in-chrome-3332967/
I hope to get this upgraded or have a temporary solution in place soon”.
Once again, please accept my apologies.
Kevin
What Does It Matter?
What does it matter that you sing,
High up in yonder tree,
For your song is not for me,
And to sing
Is such a temporary thing
Shouting Into The BlackForest
A young child, at the edge of a vast forest, calls out
“is there anybody there?”
The silence echos back at him, as it has always done. But, sooner or later something may answer his call. Will it be a large, friendly Labrador, with it’s tail wagging furiously that comes rushing out of the forest’s black interior to greet him, or a pack of ravenous wolves. He knows not, yet he continues to call.
—
Is not the above, rather like our obsession with finding “aliens”? I don’t know whether they exist, but our obsession with shouting into the dark forest may, sooner or later result in us finding out. Perhaps the confirmation of the existence of aliens will be the last knowledge we, as humans gain …
There Was A Young Lady Called Gale
There was a young lady called Gale
Who lived in a place named Hale.
She had a brother, Sid
And the things they did,
Made the vicar quail!
Book Launch for “My Old Clock I Wind” by Kevin Morris
During my interview with Ariadne Sawyer, of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s the World Poetry Reading Series, on 4 May, (http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=11765), I was asked about my plans as regards my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind And Other Poems”. Ariadne’s question prompted me to get my skates on, as it brought home the fact that I had given little thought to the idea of a physical (real world) launch of “My Old Clock”.
I am planning a book launch in late June. The launch will take place in the function room of my favourite local pub, The Railway bell, (http://www.rampubcompany.co.uk/visit-pubs/railway-bell).
The pub is within easy reach of rail and bus connections, it being approximately 25 minutes from London Victoria to Gipsy Hill or Crystal Palace stations.
I will, of course post further details once the arrangements are confirmed. If you have any queries in the meantime, please contact me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com. (The address is rendered in this manner to defeat spam).
Mermaid and Merman
“Our love is deep as the sea,
And There is such depth to you and me.
We go so far down,
We will in passion drown”,
(the mermaid said,
As she wriggled her toes,
On the ocean’s bed).
“Poseidon knows,
How the tide comes and goes,
My pretty rose”,
(I said,
With a shake of my head,
As I departed our briny bed).
The Magic Order
Once grown
We are thrown
Out of that magic place
Where the fairy’s face
Is by children seen.
The fairy queen
We may perceive
From afar,
Yet we must remember who we are
As it does grieve
Her when an adult crosses the border,
And disturbs the sacred order
—
Children should be allowed to be children, and not forced to grow up before their time.
There Was A Young Lady Called Lott
There was a young lady called Lott
Who, feeling rather hot,
Decided to sunbathe in the nude.
Some thought her extremely rude,
But the photographer did not
Man’s Distain
I remember when the rain
Did maintain
A more or less steady beat.
Now my feet
Can not a puddle
Find, for nature is in a muddle.
And man’s distain
Will not conjure the rain.
K Morris - Poet 