There once was a student named Gwen
Who was fond of throwing her pen.
A teacher called Lou
Said, “that won’t do!”,
And threw that pen back at Gwen!
Gwen and her Pen
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Tag Archives: croydon poets
Poet Kevin Morris Featured on Sally Cronin’s Blog
I was delighted to have my recently published poetry collection, “Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death” featured on Sally Cronin’s blog https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2025/06/18/smorgasbord-book-promotions-new-book-spotlight-life-reflections-passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-by-k-morris/
Dream or Reality
In my dreams
It often seems
To me
That what I feel
And sometimes see
Is reality.
When death steals
Up on me
Will it simply seem
That I dream?
The reality
Is unknowable to me.
Matt’s Cat
When a young man known as Matt
Went and bought a very large cat,
An elderly person called Brian
Yelled something about a lion!
And that was the end of that!
Eliot’s Typist
Eliot’s typist is glad when its over.
She who leaves me
Has never read
The Wasteland
And would not understand Prufrock.
Yet she knows the loneliness of men
And slippery mermaids
Who drown with them.
Early Morning Birds
When, at 4 am,
I awoke, the birds spoke
To me, bringing peace
And a return to sleep.
Whilst Engrossed in Wuthering Heights
Whilst engrossed in Wuthering Heights
I saw a young lady in tights.
I said to her, “Rose!
You are wearing no clothes!”,
She said, “no! I am wearing some tights!”
When a Man of the World
When a man of the world said, “Rose,
The wise young woman knows
That all men they are full of sin!”,
That girl gave a grin,
As she went in search of her clothes …!
Ron and the Scone
There once was a man named Ron
Who liked to go on and on!
A girl called Lin
Said, “forgive my sin!”,
As she brained Ron with a scone!
(The word “scone” is often pronounced as “scon” depending on which part of the UK one comes from).
Whilst Walking Through a very Dark Park
Whilst walking through a very dark park
I met with a vampire named Mark.
When I began to pray
He said, “it’s a play!”,
But the werewolves howled in that park …!
K Morris - Poet 