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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Castles
She smiled, awhile I tarried there, fashioned castles out of air. She laughed, set my heart aflame, tis love, or my overactive brain.
I think of her but who is she? A bird encaged longing to be free? Is she content in her cage? Or does she beat the bars with rage? Do I put my thoughts on her? Building castles in the air? Who am I? who is she? Both are struggling to be free.
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.
Authors! Your Free Book Is Worthless
Tara makes some good points. However I think the picture is rather more complex than portrayed in her post. For the author just starting out with few (if any) followers on social media programmes such as Amazon’s KDP Select can help to bring their work to the attention of people who, otherwise would have been unaware of it. For authors with a bigger following on their blogs or via other social media the use of giveaways may be less effective. My book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” is not free and I have no intention of making it so. I have, however provided readers with free copies in return for an honest review (I.E. targeted use of free offers). It is, ultimately a matter of horses for courses. For the author just starting out free promotions may help. While for the author with a greater presence offering books free (other than targeted promotions) may not be so effective.
Kevin
You know you want it! Er… hang on. Do you…?
I’ve been wondering about book pricing for a long time. Specifically, whether making your book free makes me bothered about reading it or not.
And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not. Bothered, that is.
But before you start weeping and wailing (yes – you in the back, there) this has to be taken in the context of the market demographic to which I belong. And the fact that a clunky, unsophisticated and downright annoying scatter-gun approach to book marketing, which I keep ranting and raving about even though nobody is bloody listening, is yet again way off target.
I said before that books were decreasing in value – and they are, on two levels: both in sales and production.
Firstly, it stands to reason that if you charge me 99c for your book, or make it free, it’s not as valuable to…
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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
The Dangers of Naming Characters After Friends
The danger of naming a character after a friend is, of course they may not like your portrayal and say “that isn’t me”. The situation is worse if one bestows the name of a friend on a character with significant flaws or a character who is, quite frankly an out and out rogue. Kevin
Yesterday morning, I got an email from my mother. She’s been compiling all the comments from beta readers for Chasing Nonconformity (you rock, mama!), and during this activity she came to the realization that I have yet to name a character after her.
Oh dear.
This arose as a result of my naming one of the characters in the sequel “Akaeli”, which was inspired by my roommate Kaleigh. I have a habit of calling her name in a sing-song voice when she walks through the front door, and have grown very fond of her name as a result. Hence, I borrowed her name, alienized it, and stuck it in Chasing Nonconformity. I would like to note that the character wasn’t based on her in any way, shape, or form — her name just inspired the character’s name.
Which brings me back to my mother, who put forward the question: Why have…
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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”!
