Once green leaves
Rot. And are forgot.
But great trees
They live on
When we are gone.
And some trees
Make leaves for books.
And some books
They live on
When we are gone.
But a tree
Has no vanity.
The Writer
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Category Archives: poems
Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed on Access Radio
I was delighted to be interviewed by Access radio about my day job, my life as a visually impaired person and my poetry, https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/access-radio-may-15-2024-kevin-morris/
The podcast runs for approximately 60 minutes, of which around 25-30 minutes concerns a discussion of my poetry and the creative process more generally.
If you do listen, I would be interested in your thoughts.
Flow
I know a young lady named Flow.
Her husband he left some time ago.
We laugh and drink
And sometimes I think,
On that strange lump in Flow’s patio …
There Once Was a Young Person of Woking
There once was a young person of Woking
Who had a very bad habit of poking,
Until they poked an old man
Who said, “I’ve got a plan,
To kick you around the town of Woking!”.
Lyme Who Taught His Dog How to Rhyme
There once was a poet named Lyme
Who taught his dog how to rhyme.
In the depths of dark
He would howl and bark
And his dog would recite a rhyme.
Ambiguity
I dreamed a dream of delight
On a warm spring night
And when I awoke
My conscience spoke.
It said, “dreams are not crimes,
But when a poet rhymes
In his art
You see his heart”.
As for me
I must practice ambiguity
In my poetry
Lest my art
Reveal my secret heart.
When I go away
Perchance my verse will stay
And some will upbraid me
For my poor poetry
And the crime
Of ambiguous rhyme …
Seals and High-Heels
A young lady who wore only high-heels
Had a fondness for swimming with seals.
An old vicar called Glass
Said, “we are but grass.
But I’m fond of seals and high-heels!”
There Once Was a Bishop Known as Ted
There once was a bishop known as Ted
Who, being found with his mistress in bed
Said, “if I had time
I would most certainly resign!
But its so very comfortable in this bed!”
Temptation
Sometimes when loneliness or aching lust
Becomes too much
I crave a woman’s touch,
For in her arms I forget
All my regret,
And that I am dust.
At other times
I take refuge in rhymes
From poets long gone.
Books have charms
But a girl’s soft arms
And her scent often tempts
Me – sometimes into poetry …
Gwen Who Works in a Dodgy Gambling Den
I know a young lady named Gwen
Who works in a dodgy gambling den.
When she spins the wheel
All the money she steals,
So she’s loaded is my girlfriend Gwen …!
So I’m dating that young lady Gwen!
K Morris - Poet 