I know a young lady named Moriah
Who says, “our lives are a satire!”
I say to her, “Fay,
We are in a play!”
And she says, “my name is Moriah!”
Moriah’s Satire
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Category Archives: literature
Miss Chancer the Dancer
I am marrying a young lady named Chancer
Who has a job as an erotic dancer.
She thinks I have money
And calls me her honey –
But, dear reader, I am also a chancer …
Kafkaesque
A young man sitting at his desk
Said, “your poems are so very Kafkaesque!”
When I said, “how so?”
He said, “I don’t know!
But The Trial will come nonetheless!”
Matt’s Hat
I know a young man named Matt
Who wears a very fine hat.
He sits on the ground
And says nothing profound.
But he wears a very fine hat!
I Go out in the Rain
I go out in the rain
Again and Again
My mind on poetry.
The ground smells fresh
Of life and death
And I return again and again
To the rain
Thinking on poetry
And my mortality
Poet Kevin Morris’s Spoken Word Poetry
In addition to this blog, I also record many of my poems on TikTok. Below are a selection of some of them. While you don’t need to subscribe to TikTok to view videos, in order to comment and like content a TikTok account is necessary. If you enjoy what you hear do please consider subscribing:
Two Voices: A Poetic Journey Through Nature and City | TikTok
My Old Clock: A Poetic Reflection on Time | TikTok
An Acrostic by Poet Kevin Morris #poetryreading #spokenwordpoetry #fy… | TikTok
Happy 2026
A very happy new year to all of my readers. I hope that 2026 is a good year for you.
Very best wishes. Kevin
The Passing Year
Should I shed a tear
For the dying year?
I survived a brain abscess
And lived to see the tree undress
In autumn.
My hair has longed turned white.
I can not fight
The passage of time.
Yet take delight
In this brief rhyme
Of life.
All things pass.
Yet my glass
Is at least half full.
The weather is dull
But I still hear the steady tick tock
Of the clock
On the wall
And relish these fallen leaves
For I, as they
Must pass away.
Stream of Consciousness Ramblings
My stream of consciousness runs
As the clock ticks.
The night is dark.
My heart is part dark.
I hear the TV
In the other room.
I imagine a girl’s perfume
But it is just I
Alone, unable to call.
Yet I may fall again
When I return to the capital city.
I can be witty
And I have desired pretty
Girls. I still do so,
But know
The night is cold
And I grow old
As the clock ticks the hours away.
In May
Girls dance around the pole.
I desire women and wine,
But time is short
And what I ought
To do
Is …
But to kiss
A girl’s soft lips
And for it to be meaningful
Would kill
This itch of mine
For women and wine.
Or perhaps I lie
To myself.
It is a truism
That wealth can not buy
Happiness.
Yet I
Continue to lie …
Cupid’s Bow
She wore heels
And brought a short
Dress to fulfil his fantasy.
They drank wine
To kill the time
And hide
The emptiness they both denied.
His transfer
Made everything fair and square.
And no arrow fell
From Cupid’s bow.
K Morris - Poet 