I heard the wind blow
Through this wood I love.
When I go
Wind will blow.
And rain pour,
Though I am no more.
Yet it comforts me so.
Wind and Rain
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Category Archives: musings
Fay Who Would Ceaselessly Say the Word Hay
There was a young lady named Fay
Who would ceaselessly say the word hay.
She met a horse
Who did, of course
Mistake that young lady Fay for hay!
My Poem “A Summer Butterfly” Included on the World Poetry Reading Series for 21 July
I am pleased to announce that my poem A Summer Butterfly has been included on the World Poetry Reading Series for 21 July. A Summer Butterfly is read by Ariadne Sawyer and can be found approximately 6 minutes into the podcast https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-for-july-21-2022/.
I listened to the show using Google Chrome. However, other browsers should also work. You don’t need an account on Mixcloud in order to listen.
You can find a transcript of my poem here https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/07/05/a-summer-butterfly/.
My Dog Whose Name is Joan
My dog whose name is Joan
Is fond of chewing a bone.
Whilst in the graveyard
She chews real hard,
Which makes the poor vicar moan!
Lost Contacts
Emails sent to old contacts
Is like needles in haystacks.
Some emails come back.
They’ve changed their address.
A girl lost her dress.
And I’ve lost another contact.
As I Climbed My Apartment’s Old Stairs
As I climbed my apartment’s old stairs
I met a young lady with pears.
I said to her, “lucy,
Your fruit looks real juicy”.
She said, “and what about my pears?”
When the Ghost of Edgar Alan Poe
When the ghost of Edgar Alan Poe
Appeared to a young lady named Flow,
She said to him, “sir,
My name it is Claire”.
Why she lied I really don’t know!
I Awoke to a Very Loud Knocking
I awoke to a very loud knocking
In bed with the beautiful Miss Hocking.
She said, “I can not pretend
That I don’t have a boyfriend!”.
I said, “is that him knocking Hocking?”
Children Make Waves
Children make waves
In paddling pools.
The present heatwave
Will not stay.
And sceptic fools
Continue their play
While home burns.
Is a Poem a Nothing?
Is a poem a nothing?
We end in a coffin.
No pleasure is found
In the cold ground.
We see what is true
So pursue Lou and Sue.
For no pleasure is found
When we enter cold ground.
We lust to forget
Our pain and regret.
For only dust is found
When we enter cold ground.
K Morris - Poet 