When seagulls cry I
Feel the emptiness of eternity
In me.
I can not hide
From the all conquering sea.
When Seagulls Cry
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Tag Archives: free verse
Unwritten
A poet on his way
On a misty day
Across a road in Britain.
A poem goes unwritten.
Failure?
We passed by a tree
Brought down by the gale.
While others momentarily stood
In the ancient wood.
All things fail
And birds, unaware
Sing on with no care
For fallen trees or poetry.
Conversation with a Stranger
She was born in the year
I came here
To live and work.
She will thrive when time’s scythe
Has ended me.
I feel no jerk
Of sudden fear
Of the Reaper as he draws near.
I have felt lust
And feared dust.
But today I simply say my goodbye
And accept that I
Will, one day die.
The train moves on.
She is gone.
And I will do my work today.
Musings on a Bleak December Day
On a cold December day
I stop
And suddenly become
Aware of the ticking clock.
The sun
Hides it’s face.
It will rain again today.
I will embrace
Old Father Time in rhyme.
I grow older
And sense his great hand
Waiting to land
On my bowing shoulders.
I must try
Not to waste time.
For the clock
Will, one day, … stop
Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for December 12th 2024
I was delighted to be interviewed by Ariadne Sawyer of the World Poetry Reading Series for her show on December 12th. During the podcast, I read a number of my poems and talk about my poetry and the creative process. For the podcast please visit, https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-with-kevin-morris-dec-12-2024/. My segment begins approximately 15 minutes into the show.
Our Own Hell
I heard school children at play
On a late December day.
Soon I will turn 57.
Will I be nearer to heaven?
Or to hell?
I’ve heard mythologists tell
How gods play
With women and men,
And how we have no chance against them.
On this winter’s day
In late December, I know that our fate
Lies in man’s hands.
When the jackboots stamp in the concentration camps
Men create living hell
And no gods weep.
The Old Tree
I heard an ugly sawing sound
As an old oak came down.
It was the tree or the wall
That had to fall
So the old oak had to go.
Looking out my window
I see another ancient tree
Looking back at me.
It’s greenery gave me shade
During the recent heatwave.
This tree was here long before I came
And may well remain
When I am one with wind and rain.
But all things fall
In the end, however much we pretend it is not so.
This tree will go
And another grow. Well, I hope tis so.
Were to Submit Your Poetry
A helpful list of places to submit your poetry, ranging from poetry magazines and journals through to publishers of pamphlets and books. https://poetryschool.com/theblog/where-to-submit-your-poetry-in-2023-2024/
Although this list refers to 2024, the vast majority of the publications will remain relevant in 2025 and beyond.
Alexa Says it Won’t Rain Today
Alexa says it won’t rain today.
I put my coat on anyway.
Sure enough, it rains again.
Should I maintain
My faith in the reliability
Of modern technology?
No, today I shall pray
To the god of rain
And silently blast
The weather forecast!
K Morris - Poet 