Category Archives: uncategorised

Shall I Forsake Kipling And Blake

Shall I forsake
Kipling and Blake
For a dull technocracy
Where man is no longer free?

Modernity calls.
Tradition falls
Away.
We are all the same today.

But I, like some stubborn goat
Shall build a moat
Against it all
And think on ancient hall
And a simpler time
When to rhyme
Or to speak out of turn was no crime.

One must not say such and such
For it is all too much
For youth
(And some aged too)
Who refuse to
Discuss what they believe to be true
For they hate
Debate
Which made England great.

The Man Of The World’s Visitors

Most say
“I shall give it up one day.
But I have bills to pay
And its an easy way
To earn cash.
I am not rash
(Like some of the others you may know).
So let us go
To your room
Where I shall for a while
Dispell your gloom
With my painted smile”.

The New Year

It is my belief
That a man
Can turn over a new leaf.
But it is easier (at any time
Of year)
To rhyme
Than it is to adhere
To resolutions made in wine and beer.

A happy new year to you all
And, if you should fall
Perchance my words you may recall.

—

Putting aside poetry, in all sincerity, I wish you all the very best for 2018.
Kevin

Poet Kevin Morris To Appear On Vancouver Co-Op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series, at 1:30 PST on Thursday 11 January 2018

I am pleased to announce that I shall be appearing on Vancouver Co-Op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series, at 1:30 PST on Thursday 11 January. This equates to 9:30 PM UK time.

During the show I shall be talking about (and reading) my poetry.

You can listen to a previous podcast of me reading from my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind” by clicking here http://moyhill.com/clock/assets/km_interview2-world_poetry_cafe-2017.04.05.mp3.

To find out about the World Poetry Reading Series please visit http://worldpoetry.ca/

There Are No Pockets In A Shroud

There are no pockets in a shroud.
The proud
And the humble
All must tumble
Into the grave.
But you should save
One solitary coin
To enjoin
The ferryman to take you on
Your final journey.

Stable Doors

The wind does moan
Outside, as my thoughts fly
in circles well known to me.
I lie
Alone,
Unable to close eye
And return to a land
Where I have no command
Over foot or hand.

The morning light filters through curtain.
I am uncertain
Of my inner spring
And no not what today will bring
Other than the endless debate
Over whether I should close the stable gate.
I ought to have said “whoa!”
Long ago
But lacked the will to do so.