When a monster dies
Someone cries,
For they know only part
Of the monster’s heart.
When A Monster Dies
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Category Archives: creative writing
There Was A Young Lady Called Sky
There was a young lady called Sky
Who stood at six feet high.
When she removed her high heeled shoes,
Six inches she did lose,
Which made her boyfriend cry.
“The Poet Speaks: Kevin Morris Reads A Sellection Of His Poetry”, A Review By Victoria Zigler
I was pleased to receive the following review in respect of the CD of me reading my poetry, “The Poet Speaks: Kevin Morris Reads A Sellection Of His Poetry”:
“I’ve read a lot of Kevin Morris’ poems, and enjoyed them; Kevin’s poems are often extremely thought-provoking. Hearing him read some of his poems out loud helps to bring them to life in a way reading them myself can’t do. In short, this is a great collection of poetry, which the author reads beautifully, and which is an absolute pleasure to listen to”. For the review please visit, http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1949990926.
There Was A Young Boy Called Ed (a limerick for children)
There was a young boy called Ed
Who wrote a story about his ted.
His mother did remark,
“It is getting dark,
And you and ted must go to bed!”
(Ted or teddy, is frequently used as a shortened form of teddy bear, particularly by young children).
Tube
A thrumming in the wire.
Rising desire
By commuters to enter
The tube’s centre.
Wrapped in the tunnel’s dark embrace
We race
Towards our destination.
A brief anticipation,
Then we disgorge at our station.
A review of my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”
On checking my email this morning, I was delighted to learn that my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” (http://moyhill.com/lost/) has received a great review.
To read the review please visit (https://laurenwalsburg.com/2017/03/21/review-lost-in-the-labyrinth-of-my-mind-by-k-morris/).
There Was A Young Man Called Matt
There was a young man called Matt
Who said “poetry is old hat”.
His brother Jim
Disagreed with him.
It ended in a spat!
Chrysanthemums
Would
That I could
Find Chrysanthemums in bud.
For those in bloom
Are gone to soon.
I remember the sweet scent
Of the chrysanthemums that bloomed
In my grandfather’s garden.
Entombed,
They are long since spent.
One Never Ought
I expressed a view, contrary to your own.
Now I am alone
Thinking on the old adage that one ought
Not to talk,
About religion, politics and sport.
Daffodils
“The daffodils are out in Saint James’s Park”
My colleague did remark.
Today
The wind blusters
Through Wordsworth’s spritely clusters,
And I wonder how long will the chancers stay.
K Morris - Poet 