Category Archives: poems

When Naughty Miss White and Miss Winning

When naughty Miss White and Miss Winning

Came round to mine for some sinning,

We got covered in cake

While a vicar named Lake

Condemned us for all of our sinning!

A Grave Situation

When a man whose name was Dave

Said, “I’ll sleep in this ’ere grave”,

A ghost called Clair

Said, “that isn’t fair!

I’d like some privacy in my grave!”.


When a young lady smoking some Pot

Said, “do you think that I’m hot?”,

They Said to her, “Moriah!

You’ve just started a fire!

You need to stop dropping that Pot!”.

Dave’s Rave

There was a young man named Dave

Who attended a very large rave,

Where a girl with a beard

Said, “some say that I’m weird,

But I really don’t like to shave!”.

When I Die

When I die

What will people see

In my poetry?

Will they read me

At all?

I will not know

Whether tis so

For in my pall

My poetry

Must surely go.

Though perhaps it may

Not be so.

Sex Kitten

A young lady who comes from Britain

Is known as a great sex kitten.

My dear old dog

Is known as Hogg,

And my kitten she comes from Britain …!

Poet Kevin Morris’s Interview on Vancouver Co-op Radio’s the World Poetry Reading Series

On Monday 29 May, I was interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer, of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s the World Poetry Reading Series about my recently released poetry collection, More Poetic Meanderings. My interview, during which I discuss and read my poetry, is due to be aired at 1 pm (pacific standard time) on Thursday 1 June, which equates to 9 pm here in the United Kingdom. You can find details of the World Poetry Reading series here

I am pleased to announce that my interview is already available as a podcast on Mixcloud and can be found here I listened to my interview using Google Chrome, however other browsers should also work.

More Poetic Meanderings is available in Kindle and paperback and can be found here

My thanks to Ariadne Sawyer of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s the World Poetry Reading Series for hosting me on the World Poetry Café.


Sometimes I think

On permanent things:

The birds that sing,

The grand old churches

And the trees.



Then the breeze,

Mingling with the rain

Shows what will remain.

When you and me

Are as the tree.