When a young lady named Moore
Went and knocked at a midnight door,
I recall how Bishop Paul
Said, “we all sometimes fall”,
As he opened that midnight door …
Midnight Knock
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Tag Archives: free verse
Sunlight
The sunlight falls
On Whitehall’s walls.
Some regret the sunset.
But all fires die.
And I delight
In morning light
And Kipling who foresaw
Empire might not endure
Conscious of the Breeze
I am conscious of the breeze
In the trees
As the vehicles pass me by.
Back at my flat
I go to my open window
And hear the eternal breeze
Passing through the trees.
Culture
I am culture.
A vulture
In love with poetry.
A man
Of passing lusts
Who will be free
In dust.
Poet Kevin Morris Interviewed by the Croydonist
I was delighted to be interviewed by the Croydonist, a website which covers the area in which I live. To read my interview, please follow this link
https://www.croydonist.co.uk/kevin-morris/
I am grateful to Julia of the Croydonist for her kindness in interviewing me.
Kevin Morris Reading from his poetry collection, “More Poetic Meanderings”
Today, I am sharing a link to me reading from my collection, “More Poetic Meanderings”, https://soundcloud.com/kevin-stephen-morris/poet-kevin-morris-reading-from-his-collection-more-poetic-meanderings-part-1.
“More Poetic Meanderings” is also available in Kindle and paperback from Amazon and can be found here https://www.amazon.com/More-Poetic-Meanderings-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B0BZT9G139
Love
I have heard girl’s giggle
As I walked alone
The hard stones
And thought on lover’s wriggles.
Then returned home
To my bed to lie
Where no lover’s sigh
And the emptiness of night
Grips me tight.
But when love dies
Lovers also cry.
Mermaids
There is much on display today
In the sultry city.
I am witty.
We chat of this and that.
She laughs. adjusts the rucksack
On my back.
I think on mermaids
And know I grow old.
Peace
Listening to windchimes
I think how we strive,
Always struggling to arrive.
And, for a moment find
All striving cease
And peace
In windchimes.
What it means to be human in an age of intelligent machines of
An insightful article entitled “what it means to be human in an age of intelligent machines”, https://thepoetspeace.wordpress.com/2025/06/24/what-it-means-to-be-human-in-an-age-of-intelligent-machines/.
I think the author makes some excellent points. However, whilst artificial intelligences (AIS) can vacuum up vast amounts of data (the poetry of John Keats, William Shakespeare Etc) and produce a “poem” from that data, it does not comprehend what it is doing. Nor does it feel real emotion.
In contrast, the poet on hearing the song of the blackbird as the dusk comes down is profoundly moved. He feels sadness mingled with joy and the overflowing of his emotions leads to the composition of poetry. Whilst an AI may vacuum up the poet’s work and produce a poem based on it, the poem (and the other poems utilised by the AI in the composition of it’s poem) have, for want of a better word, been stolen. The AI feels nothing and comprehends nothing.
K Morris - Poet 