There once was a hen named Gwen
Who dated a fine fox called Ken.
They met for a meal
And I really do feel
That we won’t be seeing Gwen again …
Gwen the Hen and a Fox Called Ken
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Category Archives: musinga
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.
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?
Cook’s New Poetry Book
When a poet whose name was Cook
Went and published a new poetry book,
And a young man called Frank
Said, “the pages are all blank!”.
“That’s because it’s blank verse!”, said Cook.
Videos of Poet Kevin Morris reading his poetry
This evening I recorded a number of poems on Tiktok. You don’t have to have a TikTok account in order to view these videos. However, if you enjoy these readings and wish to follow me on TikTok that would be much appreciated.
My Poetry T Shirt
I have recently created a poetry t shirt, which shows my poem ‘Fallen Blossom’ :
I found
Blossom on the ground.
Which brought
To mind the thought,
We all,
As the blossom, fall.
The t shirt was manufactured by a company called Fluid Branding.
Fallen Blossom can be found in my collection, More Poetic Meanderings which is available in Kindle and Paperback from Amazon.
17
She helped him to choose booze
In a store,
And said, “I am 17,
So can not drink”.
He did think
Her more mature,
But no, some teenage boy’s dream,
And new wine,
Is divine,
But not for the mature.
She was, Perhaps Japanese
The curtains where drawn.
The forlorn
Fact of an act,
Remembered, when alone
At home.
She was, perhaps Japanese,
And tried to please,
In english, broken, so softly spoken.
Something was said about a condom.
He did, then was gone.
Maybe, God sees.
K Morris - Poet 