“Footprints in the sand”.
“His? or hers?”
“Who cares?
For they end in the sea
And its impossible to discern
Whether they return”.
Footprints in the sand
Leave a reply
There was a young lady called Heather
There was a young lady called Heather,
Who was most terribly clever.
She wrote poetry that no one could understand
And was lauded throughout the land,
By critics, who thought her most terribly clever!
A review of “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”
Many thanks to Victoria Zigler for her review of my recently released collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”. To read the review please visit http://ziglernews.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/poetry-book-my-old-clock-i-wind-and.html.
To purchase the book (in print or ebook formats) please visit the publisher’s website http://moyhill.com/clock/.
“My Old Clock I Wind” is also available (ebook only) in the Amazon Kindle store and can be found here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG.
Kevin
Nostalgia and the Poet – Kevin Morris
Many thanks to Annette for hosting me on her excellent site.
Nostalgia (a yearning for a golden, bygone age) is present, to a greater or lesser degree in all of us. This hankering for the past runs through much poetry and is beautifully expressed by A. E Housman in his “A Shropshire Lad”:
“INTO my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again”.
In the above lines, Housman evokes a happy childhood. The recollection of which is, however tinged with regret, hence “into my heart an air that kills”. We cannot, try as we might, recreate the past and melancholy oft creeps into our soul when gazing back.
Nostalgia frequently expresses itself in a wistful evocation of a vanishing way of life. Take…
View original post 682 more words
Tree
Oh tree at the edge of the park,
Oh warm imperfection of bark,
You where here ‘Ere I came,
And when I am gone, you shall remain.
My Old Clock I Wind, By Kevin Morris is now available for purchase
I am delighted to announce that my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems” is now available, in both print and ebook formats from Moyhill Publishing.
To read a selection of reviews or to purchase “My Old Clock” please go to http://moyhill.com/clock/.
The book will soon be available on Amazon and I will post a link here once this is the case.
Kevin
The Tunnel
‘Tis a place
Where we face
The end
And the beginning
In love
Or sinning
Authors for Grenfell Tower
A very good cause.
I’ve never liked tower blocks. I had a friend who lived on the 13th floor of what used to be called a “hard to let” block in east London. She loved the view from her balcony, and kept flowerpots tethered in five unblowoffable ways to the railings, but even stepping on to it made me feel weak at the knees. Perhaps my knees were already weak when I arrived, because I always used to walk up the stairs. The lift was creaky and claustrophobic. Supposing it got stuck? Supposing someone scary got in it with you?
Cuttings from the “I”, “The Guardian” and the “Evening Standard”‘ June 17th & 19th 2017
Even posh tower blocks – skyscrapers, rather, penthouses, high rise living and the other more affluent synonyms – worry me. The only time I visited New York, I was less scared sleeping on the 34th floor than I’d anticipated…
View original post 530 more words
The Society of Classical Poets (website)
The Society of Classical Poets is a wonderful site that I recommend to everyone who loves rhyming poetry.
The River Rose
The river rose
But stopped halfway.
His banks will flood
Another day.
