We may
Never see tomorrow.
For each moment we borrow.
And tomorrow’s sun
Must become,
Today.
Tomorrow
2 Replies
Category Archives: musings
Clock
I forget the ticking of the clock.
But recollect it, when I stop.
Is time benign?
Long after
I have reached my end,
Perchance a friend,
Suddenly hearing the tick tock
Of the clock
Will think on former laughter,
And their own, inevitable end.
The Arts
After she departs
To a destination unknown
He texts her phone
With a “thank you”.
The arts may capture
A true
Lover’s rapture.
Or gratitude to an actress, who played
Her part, to perfection, on his stage.
Glass
A glass
Reflects.
No respect
Or disrespect
For girls who pass.
It’s just his glass.
Flowers In My Mum’s Garden
Flowers in my mum’s garden
Bring to mind
A former time
When my grandfather grew roses.
I remember the scent
Of roses in his garden.
And my attempt
To make perfume.
In youth
Few engage with age.
And the truth
That roses,
Are gone so soon.
Reluctant To Leave The Wind
Reluctant to leave the wind
I paused at my door,
For no man can be sure
When this fragile thing,
We call life, will end.
A 5 Star Review of My Book “Light and Shade”
I was pleased to receive the below 5 star review of “Light and Shade, entitled “A fine Collection of Poetry”:
“Kevin’s collections of poems are impressive to say the least and he captures the seasons and life experiences well. The limericks show his quick wit. Would highly recommend.”
To read the original review please visit, https://www.amazon.co.uk/review/RAB9H7HSUADIE/. Or to purchase (or read a sample of) “Light and Shade” please go to https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX/
Empire
The wind is getting up.
Should I put
Kipling aside
For his pride
In empire?
Should I apologise
And lower my eyes
For seeing empire
In all it’s complexity?
The Romans to Britain came.
Should Italians apologise
And lower their eyes
With shame?
You may say
“The Roman Empire
Was not all bad”.
But you would be mad
To put your head above the parapit
And admit
The same
Of Britain’s imperial past.
A certain class
Would look aghast
And cry “shame”
And label you
With a name
Untrue.
Mud sticks
And many men
Seal their lips.
Whilst a brave few
Say what they
Believe to be true.
August Rain
Standing at my open window
I scent the garden below,
Sweetened by this August rain.
Some have never seen
The garden made green
By rain.
But must,
inhale dust.
And black tarmac.
As Ghosts They Come
As ghosts they come
Often when the sun
Is burning.
And, when the sun
Does set,
Oft you will find
His mind
Turning,
To thoughts of regret.
One day
They
Will no longer come
And the sun
Will, forever set
On his regret.
Some readers may engage
With a yellowing page.
And vampire
And desire.
K Morris - Poet 