Passion fragile as glass
Bliss empty as the passing of cash.
Love that endures while money lasts.
Lonleness yawns, it’s mouth vast
To A Mail Order Bride And Her Husband
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The Cynic
There is no love, only lust.
There is no flesh, tis but dust.
There is no joy, only moan.
Friendship tis fleeting, man dies alone.
“Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” Is Available To Purchase From Bookseller Crow In Crystal Palace
I am pleased to announce that my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” is available to purchase from Bookseller Crow in Crystal Palace, (http://booksellercrow.co.uk/). Print copies can also be obtained by contacting me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, (please put “Dalliance” in the subject line). “Dalliance is also available as an ebook from Amazon, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dalliance-collection-poetry-prose-Morris-ebook/dp/B00QQVJC7E). Below are examples of the poetry to be found in “Dalliance”:
Midnight
Midnight, black as pitch.
No scheming demon, ghost, nor witch.
Only the darkness, which in the human heart resides, manifests itself in cruelty and pride.
—
Let Us Away
Let us away and make hay,
For tomorrow we must pay.
Let us frolic the live long day,
But tomorrow we must pay.
—
Fire
I have felt the fire’s power;
It kindles brightly and sinks within the hour.
I have watched the embers dying fast;
Looked into the future and gazed into the past.
I have raked the ashes cold, felt the bleakness in my soul.
K Morris Featured Poet On Laura A Lord’s Website
Many thanks to Laura A Lord for featuring me on her website, (http://lauraalord.com/2015/06/24/kevin-morris-featured-poet/).
Kevin
The Solitary Reaper By William Wordsworth
I must confess to not being a lover of all Wordsworth’s poetry. I do, however derive considerable pleasure from the poet’s “The Solitary Reaper”:
“Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.”
A Review Of My Book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”
On checking the reviews of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” I was delighted to see that a new review has been posted, which reads as follows:
“Kevin Morris shares his serious inner life in “Dalliance” in simple but often powerful poems and short, gritty vignettes full of honest feeling and meaning.
He shares his acute sense of hearing and touch and his connectedness with Nature and the elements. He feels rain and wind on his face, either warm like
a lover, or piercing and chill. His communion with birdsong reminds us that we are trapped in an over-stimulated electronic world out of earshot of the
call of the wild. Kevin clearly hears these sounds through and above our babble even in the pub, and may transfer his feelings onto them, sometimes his
sense of isolation. The pearl of this collection is a poem about the “eternal” wind, which has no regard for our petty civilisation: it is the ultimate
renewable power. The wind is from everlasting to everlasting. He hears the hoot of the deadly swooping owl intent in its prey. He feels and describes the
touch of the acorn, something he has loved since gathering acorns with his grandfather. His short stories are deeply felt and based on newstories told
with compassion. In sharing his gift, he opens up our own senses to the music of nature, the wind and birdsong, which is balm to the bruised soul. Highly
enjoyable!”.
Thank you to the reviewer for the above review which can be found here, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R16IO99Q8EZCSG/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00QQVJC7E).
Kevin
Deliberately Bad Writing
Inspired by this article (http://www.walesonline.co.uk/incoming/terrible-writing-leads-top-bulwer-lytton-7568759), about a civil servant who won a literary prize for deliberately bad writing, I thought I would try to produce something designed to make the lover of literature groan. Below is my attempt at deliberately bad writing:
It was freezing. Even the penguins wore fur coats while the polar bears refused to come out of their centrally heated homes. Bethany tripped along in her summer dress, without a care in the world, taking evasive action so as not to catch her 6 inch stilettos in the snowdrifts which had, somehow appeared overnight on the streets of Blackpool.
Pausing Bethany rummaged in the pocket of her skimpy clothing for the key to her front door. Or she would have done so had that garment possessed pockets which, quite naturally it didn’t.
“Blow me down with a feather”, Bethany said taking a closer look at her home, “I don’t remember buying an igloo”!
And The Logical Place For A Jar Of Coffee is …
As an author, my mind sometimes wanders from the matter in hand and focuses on my writing. Yesterday I was making coffee. Not a difficult job as it merely entailed opening a jar of instant, spooning in coffee, adding milk and pouring boiling water into the mug. Yet I still managed to complicate this simple process.
“Why is there no milk in my coffee?” I asked myself.
On opening the fridge I discovered a jar of instant coffee comfortably ensconced next to the milk. Now I distinctly remember taking the milk out of the fridge. However instead of pouring milk into the mug I had returned it unopened to the fridge together with the jar of instant coffee!
On another occasion so intent was I on contemplating matters of a literary nature that I added both a tea bag and instant coffee to my mug. Now I am a relatively adventurous soul and am always willing to try out new things. I did, however draw the line at coffee mixed with tea!
I would be interested to hear from authors and readers. Am I alone in my odd coffee making habits?! I suspect others fall prey to the distraction of the book they are working on or reading and do bizarre things. Would you care to share what they are?
Kevin
Oh For A Paper Dictionary!
In September 2014 I wrote a post entitled “Come Back My Little Oxford”, (http://newauthoronline.com/2014/09/28/come-back-my-little-oxford/). In that article I lamented the giving away of the Braille edition of my Dictionary and explained that the work is no longer available from the Royal National Institute of Blind People (RNIB).
I am frequently reminded of “The Little Oxford” when writing poetry and short stories. I wish to ascertain the meaning of a word or phrase, break off from my writing, go online and look it up. What is the problem with doing this? I hear someone ask. Surely the internet provides a wealth of information and unlike paper reference books, online material can be updated in the blink of an eye thereby ensuring the person in search of knowledge has the most up-to-date data at their fingertips
I agree with much of the above. It is impossible to deny the ease with which online sources of reference can (and are) updated. My problem with online reference material falls into 2 main areas:
- By going online I am distracted from the writing process and fall prey to the desire to check email or social media while connected. Additionally many online reference sources survive by using advertising which can be distracting when all one wants to ascertain is the definition of a word or phrase.
- I enjoy the physicality of books. Its pleasant to turn the pages of a hard copy work rather than search Google or other internet engine for the meaning of words.
It could be argued that I could avoid being distracted by carrying out online research prior to starting the writing process. Would that things where that simple. Admittedly I could, while writing note down words I wished to look up and research them online once the writing process has finished. However this can entail using a word and/or phrase of which I am unsure, marking it up for checking at a later point in time and continuing on with my writing. It is, in my experience easier to check as one is going along rather than using a word in the wrong context then, at a later point discovering one has done so.
In conclusion the world of online reference possesses many advantages, not least among them the ability to find meanings which may not have filtered down into paper works due to their newness. However this is, in my experience cancelled out by the distractions of the online world. As I said back in September 2014, “come back my Little Oxford”.
Plinths
No romancing
Nor dancing,
Or lovelorn glancing.
Men advancing
As stallions prancing
Towards nymphs on plinths.
Love, she departed long since
