There once was a young lady called Miss Fox
Who placed lots of ads in a phone box.
An elderly vicar named Glyn
Spoke of wickedness and sin
As he called Miss Fox from that telephone box …!
Miss Fox and the Telephone Box
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Tag Archives: crystal palace poets
Poet Kevin Morris Reading Keats on the World Poetry Cafe
I recently appeared on the World Poetry Café, which is hosted by Ariadne Sawyer. During my interview, I read several of my own poems. In addition I recited “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn by John Keats.
My segment begins approximately 19 minutes into the podcast. To listen to the show please visit World Poetry Cafe Sept 18 2025 Kevin Morris by VictorSchwartzman | Mixcloud
In addition to listening online, users of Apple products can download the Mixcloud app, which is available in the Apps store, and listen on iPhones, iPads Etc.
Autumn Has Come
Autumn has not yet come.
Yet the sun shines
On dry leaves.
I find in my mind
That Autumn has come
And my leaves
Have Turned to grey.
But I am still here
In this fading year
Though my May
Has long since run away.
We go through birth.
Then, like leaves
We feed the earth.
But before we fall
We enjoy the bird’s call.
Though none can outrun
The setting sun.
Barmaid
She says that she used to see me
On her way to school.
As she pours my usual drink, I think
Of Larkin’s “The Old Fools”.
And I cast around for something to say
About my so ordinary day
When a Beautiful Young Lady from Harwich
When a beautiful young lady from Harwich
Went and boarded a first class carriage,
And a ticket collector named Glass
Said, “this ticket is second class!”.
She said, “but I am proposing marriage …!”
Temporary
The ageless wind
In these waving trees
Whispers to me
Of eternity.
Passing by a lorry
I smile
At that metal thing.
So temporary.
While the wild wind
Is forever free.
Grace the Magician
A magician who is known as Grace
Has made many men vanish without trace.
There’s a magic spade
And a secluded glade.
And the police are looking for Grace …
Summer Rain
A summer rain falls.
And birds sing.
The earth smells fresh.
But I recall
I have bills to pay.
Yet returning home
To my working day
I carry birdsong
And the rich earth
In my heart.
Nature’s art
Feeds my poetry.
Yet she
Outshines all poetry.
Gossip
Heels at night
And creaking bedsprings.
A morning blackbird sings.
It’s song heard
By neighbours who delight
In what they overheard
The other night …
Heaven
When a beautiful young lady said, “Kevin,
At seven I’ll send you to heaven!”.
I said to her, “darling Heather,
I look forward to the pleasure!”,
Then she produced a pistol at seven!
K Morris - Poet 