Category Archives: newauthoronline

Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for December 12th 2024

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I was delighted to be interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for her show on December 12th. During the podcast, I read a number of my poems and talk about my poetry and the creative process. For the podcast please visit, https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-with-kevin-morris-dec-12-2024/. My segment begins approximately 15 minutes into the show.

Our Own Hell

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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.

 

Sometimes I Wish the Rain

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Sometimes I wish the rain

Would not cease.

It quiets my heated brain.

But the rain

Will cease. And I yearn for the peace

Of the steady drip, drip, drip of rain

To return again

And cool my heated brain.

Gus and the Bus

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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?

There Once Was a Silly Old Duck

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There once was a silly old Duck

Who drove around in a big truck.

When he drove into a pond

He got rescued by a blonde,

And they married in that big truck!

 

 

 

Sally and the Alley

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I met a young lady named Sally

Who was loitering in a dark alley.

I’ve heard many a confession

And can show great discretion.

And Sally lives at 2, the Alley …!

Old Broken Bough

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I recall

How an old bough,

Ready to fall,

Blocked the woodland path.

I passed

Pushing it away

On a winter’s day

As birds sang.

 

 

The bough still hangs.

It must fall.

And I will recall

How I passed

That old broken bough

On the path

And how birds sang.

Fay and the Hay

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A most dissolute young lady named Fay

Pulls respectable gentlemen down in the hay.

In the farmer’s field

I had to yield

As she is very persuasive is Fay!

A Young Lady of Hong Kong

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When a young lady of Hong Kong

Went and sang a very sad song,

A whale called gale

Raised her great tail

And beat on a large dinner gong!

Certainties

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I duck as I go

For the wind has bent a bough low

And toppled a street sign.

 

A winter breeze makes random patterns with leaves.

The wind has no time

For our certainties and lines.