A young man whose name is Lee
Has a degree in philosophy.
He is extremely clever
And married to Heather,
And he serves a mean cream tea!
A Young Man Whose Name Is Lee
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Tag Archives: blogging
I Wont Distract You!
Yesterday, I was traveling up on the escalators at London Victoria underground station with my guide dog Trigger, when the following incident took place:
Man a couple of steps above me, speaking directly to Trigger,
“I know you are a working guide dog so I wont disturb you”.
Me, “thank you”.
Man, (looking directly at Trigger, “I wont distract you”, at which Trigger wags his tail and becomes rather distracted!
The above incident is, on one level comical. The comedy arising from the man in question doing precisely what he said he wouldn’t do, namely distract my working guide dog! However the actions of this gentleman where potentially dangerous and (not to put too fine a point on it, stupid)!
Guide dogs are trained to assist visually impaired people to navigate safely around streets, roads etc. They do wonderful work. However they are, when all is said and done dogs, who love attention and who can, when given it, become distracted.
I am very happy (when Trigger is not working) for him to receive strokes and cuddles (provided the person giving the attention has asked first). I rarely refuse a request to pet Trigger. However it is my absolute right to give such a refusal and the stupidity (albeit unintentional) of the gentleman in question had the potential to put my safety (and that of others) in danger. For example had Trigger pulled forward to reach the gentleman I might have fallen putting myself and those behind me, on the escalator at risk.
Fortunately the overwhelming majority of people behave responsibly around guide dogs. I only wish that everyone did so.
Kevin
Binmen
The binmen
Make
A lot of noise when
They take
The rubbish away
At 6:20 am.
My alarm ushers in
Another day
Of virtue and sin.
But what does it matter my friend
When all men
Are bound for the dustbin
In the end?
When A Young Lady Named Leigh
When a young lady named Leigh
Composed a poem about me,
Of course I was flattered,
But the fish wasn’t battered,
So we had steak for tea!
There Once Was A Virile Young Man
There once was a virile young man
Who, on seeing a passing pram,
Doffed his hat
To the mother,
And said, “I once had a lover,
Who looked a lot like that . . .!”.
My Blog Is A Place Of Life And Death
My blog is a place of life and death.
A few who have commented here have lost their breath
And gone to a great, silent house
Where no word is heard
And the click of mouse
Is, forever staid.
They have their part played
In the blogasphere
And now are memorialised here
Through their comments, some may choose to peruse.
But should you click on a link to their blog, it may well be dead,
Or say
“He passed away
And this site his friends retain so that you may
Read what he, who is dead,
Once said”.
Others comment still
And will,
I hope continue to do so
For a long time to come
As their words enliven this site,
Yet none of us know
When our night
May come
And take us to a place
Where we
Are, forever free
Of technology,
But perhaps our words wil live on
After we are gone
In virtual pages
Or through printed book
Where, in future ages
Readers will look
And maybe remark
“He has gone to the dark,
But he had something to say
Which is why
I read him today”.
Ghosts under Lamp Posts
Do lamp posts
Show, by their fitful glow
The ghosts
Of sinners long ago?
And, on seeing that fitful glow
Do dying men go
Back, down that dark track
And perceive
Ghosts under lamp posts.
And, if so
Do they grieve
For the money spent
On cheap scent
Long ago?
Perhaps it is so,
But That, I can not know.
When A Young Man Named Coker
When a young man named Coker
Said, “your poetry ’tis mediocre”,
I gazed into the fire
And replied, “do you admire
“This poker, my late friend coker?”
When I Die
When I die
I wish to do so
Hearing the virile
Wind blow,
And not in some sterile
Hospital wing
Where the living dead
Go to die
And hear not
The wind sing.
Muddy Revisited
“Muddy” first appeared here in 2016. Looking at the state of British politics, and the world in general, I feel impelled to share this poem again.
—
Thoughts muddy
I will forsake
And take
Refuge in my study,
Among poets who speak
Words that endure beyond a week.
I shall sit listening to birdsong.
The long
Summer days willimperceptibly turn
Into Autumn. I shall the world spurn
And yearn
For Keat’s Nightingale.
K Morris - Poet 