I heard Thor roar
In the wood.
But no rain came.
Civilisation has withstood
The wind and rain.
But climates change
I heard Thor roar
In the wood.
But no rain came.
Civilisation has withstood
The wind and rain.
But climates change
I was pleased to receive this review of my recently published poetry collection, “Passing through: some thoughts on life and death”, https://audreydriscoll.com/2025/05/20/book-review-passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-by-k-morris/
On Thursday 8 May, I appeared on the World Poetry Reading Series. During the show, I read a number of my poems and discussed how my time in hospital whilst recovering from an operation to remove a brain abscess inspired me to compose poetry.
For a link to the podcast please visit https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-may-8-2025-kevin-morris/
. My segment starts approximately 22 minutes into the podcast.
Following on from yesterday’s post, in which I mentioned that my poetry collection, “Passing through: some thoughts on life and death” is now available to purchase in the Amazon Kindle store https://kmorrispoet.com/2025/05/17/passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-by-k-morris-is-available-to-download-in-the-amazon-kindle-store/. I am pleased to let you know that the paperback edition of “Passing through” is now also available. To purchase the paperback edition please visit the below links.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F92G8PPR?
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0F92G8PPR/
My dog of whom I am extremely fond
Has a habit of jumping in the pond.
Then he gets a certain smell
Which I know all too well,
And of which I am not that fond!
(A couple of days ago I took my guide dog Apollo for a walk in Crystal Palace park with my friend and his Rhodesian Ridgeback. Being a Labrador Retriever, Apollo decided that it would be tremendous fun to go swimming in a pond, twice!)
When a naked young lady from Ealing
Went and swung from the bishop’s ceiling,
A spinster called Hocking
Found it most shocking!
And the bishop gazed at the ceiling!
There is a kind of butterfly
Who alights at night
And brings pleasure for a time
To lovers of rhyme.
And these butterflies
They go with day,
Although they may
Be caught in rhyme
And live on
When they are gone.
In the library I would look at books
And seashells, so near to shelves
Drowning in books.
At the time this seemed incongruous to me.
But now I see no incongruity
For the sea
Will, one day, sweep all this culture away
Leaving only shells.
When a haughty young lady named Kath
Demanded that I run her a bath,
And I said, “do it yourself!”
She said, “but I’m an elf!”. ,
I said, “go magic your own bath!”
As I sit thinking about poetry
I hear the birds calling to me.
I spend far too much time
Pondering on rhyme,
While the sun rises and sets
On my regrets,
So soon lost in the great maelstrom
Of whirling time.