I have just published my first author newsletter, which can be found here: https://mailchi.mp/304befa50805/november-author-newsletter
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I am delighted to announce that a number of my poems have been included in “Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology 2019/2020”.
The anthology, which is available for £6.53 from lulu.com, is described as follows, “a selection of poetry from a variety of poets who live in and around Croydon or who have connections with the area.”
I have lived in the Upper Norwood district of Greater London since 1997, and my bit of Upper Norwood comes under Croydon Council.
Amongst those poems of mine included, are “The Man With The Mop”, “Autumn Fly” and “Dog Bed”.
To view or purchase the anthology please visit https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/croydon-poets/croydon-poetry-hour-anthology-201920/paperback/product-rjpqzd.html.
On Saturday 31 October, Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced that England will be going into a second lockdown from midnight Thursday 5 November. This announcement reminded me of my poem “Furlough”, which is reproduced below:
Furlough
During the time
Of Corona, girls unseen
May fulfil a lonely man’s dream.
While poets smile
And spend their time
Composing rhyme.
“An Englishman’s home is his castle,”
Neighbours say.
And, wishing to avoid hassle,
They look the other way
As girls (ineligible for furlough)
Come and go.
And time
Hangs heavy on the poet’s hands.
Therefore, he composes rhyme
About a crossed line
And resistance
To social distance.
(“Furlough” can be found in “Light and Shade”, which can be accessed here, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems-ebook/dp/B08B4X3GVX
When I went on a Halloween date
With a girl who calls herself Kate,
We stopped by a grave
Where I met with Dave.
Who shares that grave with Miss Kate!
Whilst walking through the graveyard on Halloween
I saw a ghoul dressed in green.
When I said, “why not white?”.
He replied, “because this Halloween night,
You are having a very strange dream!”.
I awoke from a most horrible dream
On the day that’s known as Halloween.
I rubbed my eyes
And, to my surprise,
Found the Devil had eaten the cream!
Cold day.
No sun
Does say
Late Autumn
Has come.
Nabokov coughs.
Lolita passes through the ages
Captured, in a novel’s pages.
The novelty of sin
Wears thin.
Is there a heart
To find behind
This dark art.
When a young lady named Claire
Started to pull on my hair,
I, being no masochist
Said, “you must desist!”.
But Claire really liked my hair!
An ageing libertine
Whose every dream
Has been achieved, grieves
For he sees
The same, inane
Undressing. Caressing. Undressing. caressing.
Lost in alcohol.
Each girl a doll
To be undressed.
Caressed. Undressed. Caressed. Undressed.
But, behind all his lust
Lurks his fear of dust.
K Morris - Poet 