There was a young man called Wood
Who on a river bank stood.
He wept over a maid
Who was both pretty and staid.
He really wished she would …
There Was A Young Man Called Wood
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Category Archives: literature
A review of my collection of poetry “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”
I was delighted to receive the following review of “My Old Clock I Wind”:
“A book of poetry by K. Morris. The poems explore different themes, lamenting the passing years, questioning what is called “progress” among others, but there are some nonsensical funny ones too …”. (To read the review in its entirety please visit, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2356305979?book_show_action=true&from_review_page=1).
You can find “My Old Clock” on Goodreads here, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35445316-my-old-clock-i-wind-and-other-poems. And in the Amazon Kindle store here, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG.
The book is also available from Moyhill Publishing (in ebook and print), http://moyhill.com/clock/.
A braille edition can be purchased from the Royal National Institute of Blind People (RNIB). To purchase “My Old Clock IWind” in braille please go to http://www.rniblibrary.com/iguana/www.main.cls?surl=a1, enter “my old clock I wind k morris”, click search and my book should be displayed.
There Was A Young Man Called Pete
There was a young man called Pete
Who did my wine cellar deplete.
Being drunk as a lord
He fell on his sword.
That unfortunate young man called Pete.
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/deplete/).
There Was A Young Man Called Bill
There was a young man called Bill
Who had his hand in the till.
When his boss named Mike
Said “go take a hike”
He left along with the till.
In This Forest Glade
In this forest glade
I think on the shade.
All mens desires
For women and empires
Fade.
The shout
Of the brave
Is lost in the grave.
And all fires burn out
In the end,
Be they lover or friend.
There Was A Young Lady Called Joan
There was a young lady called Joan
Who sat getting drunk on her own.
An old reprobate named Dan
Had a most wicked plan,
But went back home on his own.
The Ship
I knew
A man who
Was so just and true
That when the ship came under attack
He stood back
And said “alas, alack
Poisoning is a terrible thing
Yet I can not bring
Myself to condemn
Particular men
(Although the evidence points that way)
I say
That there must be absolute proof.
So shall I in my allotment dig for truth).
He is digging still
And will
Continue to do so
As men of common sense see the fact
For what it is,
And act!
One Can Choose To Ignore The News
One can choose
To ignore the news,
And put off until tomorrow
The sorrow
And pain.
But what is true
Will break through
Again and again.
There Was A Young Man Called Jo
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I shot him with my bow!
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I told him where to go!
Legacy
Some things
Have wings
Of light,
While others fly at night
Their poison carrying down the years,
Provoking bitter tears.
One such has gone
But his legacy lives on
In those who can not wait
To employ their knuckles tattooed with “Hate”.
An intelligent man
Frequently can
Do more harm
Than a stupid one,
For he is possessed of charm
And learning to.
True he has gone
But the bitterness lives on.
The word “fascist” is ugly to me
And I can not agree
With those who would label him so,
Yet I know
That it is possible to stoke
The fire and deplore the thuggish smoke
On which we all choke.
This is not quite fair
As there where
Racists ere
He spoke.
Yet he threw a match
Which did catch
Provoking flame
Blame
And smoke.
