When a young lady of this great nation
Invited me to a night of extreme dissipation,
I said to her, “Coral!
That is so very immoral!”.
She said, “yes! Its what made this nation!”.
A Young Lady of this Great Nation
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Category Archives: literature
Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for December 12th 2024
I was delighted to be interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for her show on December 12th. During the podcast, I read a number of my poems and talk about my poetry and the creative process. For the podcast please visit, https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-with-kevin-morris-dec-12-2024/. My segment begins approximately 15 minutes into the show.
Our Own Hell
I heard school children at play
On a late December day.
Soon I will turn 57.
Will I be nearer to heaven?
Or to hell?
I’ve heard mythologists tell
How gods play
With women and men,
And how we have no chance against them.
On this winter’s day
In late December, I know that our fate
Lies in man’s hands.
When the jackboots stamp in the concentration camps
Men create living hell
And no gods weep.
Sometimes I Wish the Rain
Sometimes I wish the rain
Would not cease.
It quiets my heated brain.
But the rain
Will cease. And I yearn for the peace
Of the steady drip, drip, drip of rain
To return again
And cool my heated brain.
Gus and the Bus
When a daring young man known as Gus
Suggested we all make love on the bus!
And Miss Leven said, “Kevin!
Do take me to heaven!”.
I wondered, is it that kind of bus?
The Book Destroyer
There was a young man named Roy
Who said, “all these books I’ll destroy!”.
A bookish girl called Grace
Pushed over a heavy bookcase
Which flattened that young man named Roy!
There Once Was a Silly Old Duck
There once was a silly old Duck
Who drove around in a big truck.
When he drove into a pond
He got rescued by a blonde,
And they married in that big truck!
Sally and the Alley
I met a young lady named Sally
Who was loitering in a dark alley.
I’ve heard many a confession
And can show great discretion.
And Sally lives at 2, the Alley …!
Old Broken Bough
I recall
How an old bough,
Ready to fall,
Blocked the woodland path.
I passed
Pushing it away
On a winter’s day
As birds sang.
The bough still hangs.
It must fall.
And I will recall
How I passed
That old broken bough
On the path
And how birds sang.
Fay and the Hay
A most dissolute young lady named Fay
Pulls respectable gentlemen down in the hay.
In the farmer’s field
I had to yield
As she is very persuasive is Fay!
K Morris - Poet 