Category Archives: uncategorised

The British Library and Legal Deposit

A few days ago, I received a receipt from the British Library, confirming that my “Selected Poems” has been added to their shelves/catalogue.

Under UK law a copy of every publication, published in the United Kingdom, (print and electronic), must be provided to the British Library, and to 5 other UK libraries on request.

The responsibility for furnishing copies rests with publishers which, (in the case of self-published authors) in effect means that they must provide their published works to the British Library and (if requested to do so) to the 5 other UK libraries.

The above system (which is known as Legal Deposit) helps to preserve the nation’s cultural heritage for the benefit of authors and readers alike.

You can read more about Legal Deposit here, https://kmorrispoet.com/2017/03/10/legal-deposit-for-self-published-and-other-authors/.

The paperback edition of my “Selected Poems“, (which is held by the British Library) is available from Amazon and can be found here, https://www.amazon.com/Selected-Poems-K-Morris/dp/1688049800

Birdsong

When,
At a little after 5 am
I awake.
I think it late.

“Can you hear the birds?”,
You said.
Alone, in my bed,
I remember your words,
So much unsaid
By a girl who
I scarcely knew,
For a night is not long.
Yet, you took me far beyond
Sin, with the beauty of birdsong.

A Most Beautiful Young Dancer

A most beautiful young dancer
Called me a wicked old chancer.
But when she received my present,
She suddenly turned quite pleasant.
And quickly I did romance her!

The Dance

Entranced, he watched the dance,
As the girl
Did whirl,
Her feet
Kicking up the dust
Of poets, and dancers,
And other chancers,
Who you may meet
And pass, on the street
Without a second glance.
And the age-old dance
Goes on,
But the dust
Of those long gone
Is not disturbed
By a young woman’s dancing feet

When An Elderly Gentleman Called Harris

When an elderly gentleman named Harris
Took a pleasure trip to Paris,
And approached all the young women,
And spoke to them of sinning,
They drummed him out of Paris!

Spiral

She wrote in her spiral
Notebook. Her pen
Being men.
Some words go viral,
But in her spiral
Notebook, they go round
And round
Again
And again.

Or, maybe, ’tis broken men
Who take up their female pen
And write, again
And again.
‘Tis both women And men
Who employ the same,
Old pen.
And oft times leave behind,
A broken, mind