On Thursday 19th March I hosted a segment on the World Poetry Reading Series World Poetry Cafe March 19 2026 with Kevin Morris by VictorSchwartzman | Mixcloud. During my section of the podcast I read William Wordsworth’s the Solitary Reaper which is one of my favourite poems. In addition, I recited a number of my own poems and talked about my poetry.
To listen to the show please follow the above link. My bit starts some 20 minutes into the podcast.
I heard my entry phone go.
I said, “hello?”
He said, “Its Tesco”.
I replied, “its not me!”
After, I thought I ought
To have said, “its not for me”.
For I am, of course “I” or “me”.
But, you see
I was not thinking of my identity
At the time,
For my mind
Was caught up in rhyme!
When a dominant young lady named Fay
Said, “lets all indulge in role play!”
And severe Miss Jane
Produced a large cane,
I made my excuses that day …!
The Autumn dark is coming down.
One day I will drown
And leave the night
And the light.
For I am bound by dark
And will not fight
The inevitable night.
There once was an elderly writer known as Ted
Who said, “burn all my works when I’m dead!”
His young lover Divine
Said, “they’re all online!
With the picture of the vicar in our bed …!”
On opening my mum’s back door
I hear the rain pour.
I shall not romanticise
Rain or death.
Man dies
And some are left bereft
Listening to the rain.
On Thursday 23rd October, I appeared on the World Poetry Café. During the show, I read several of my own poems, including “On the Death of a Writer”, which appears in my most recent collection, “Passing Through; Some Thoughts on Life and Death”. In addition, I read Philip Larkin’s wonderful poem “Ambulances”.
My thanks to Ariadne, Anita and Victor for hosting me on the World Poetry Café. My segment begins approximately 21 minutes into the podcast. To listen please visit https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-oct-23-kevin-morris-and-anita-aguirre-nieveras/?utm_source=notification&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=upload_is_published&utm_content=html
Caught up in thoughts of work
I heard a bird sing.
I have been touched by beauty
And knowledge of my mortality.
He flies free
While I feel the futility
Of my work
When he sings.
A man who liked to eat chalk
Said that it helped him to talk.
One day, feeling bored,
He swallowed a blackboard.
Which worked very well with that chalk!
It is often said that the dead
Are, forever, dead
And that only fools believe in ghouls.
But, having read
Of ghosts and vampires. When I retire
To my bed
I feel the dead
Draw near.
And in my troubled dreams I scream
In fear.
Yet ghosts and ghouls
Are for fools –
Or so I hear …
K Morris - Poet 