Many thanks to Rebeca for reading and reviewing my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”. For Rebeca’s unboxing video please visit https://booksandmessybuns.wordpress.com/2015/11/16/out-of-the-box-1/. For Rebeca’s review of “Dalliance” please see https://booksandmessybuns.wordpress.com/2015/11/23/review-dalliance-by-k-morris/.
Closing my curtain
I shut out the night
And the fireworks
Celebrating something
but precisely what
I am uncertain.
While beyond my drapes
The dark
patiently waits …
Is man’s destiny to slowly fade away?
to be lost in perpetual play?
The gosimer thin thread
in his head
breaks
and he takes
a step over the abyss
to wallow in bliss
where machines dream
and Alice is not who she seems.
The sun rises.
There are prizes
For the movers and shakers.
To be caught in a movie maker’s
dream,
a scene
from which there can be no escape.
As we roll with the never ending tape.
(The above was prompted by an article in yesterday’s Guardian, http://www.theguardian.com/business/2015/nov/07/artificial-intelligence-homo-sapiens-split-handful-gods).
Silk and lace.
Those legs.
Her face.
She leaves
not a hair out of place.
Many thanks to Sacha Black for featuring me on her website (http://sachablack.co.uk/2015/11/06/interview-with-author-kevin-norris/#more-3193). In my interview I refer to being in the process of revising “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”. The revised edition is now available in ebook and print format.
Kevin
THIS IS I – TRIGGER
Yesterday I went with my owner, Kevin to catch a train into London Victoria. He says he has to go into something called the office. Personally I can’t see why. I mean its much more fun chasing foxes and other wildlife in the park or taking tasty snacks from the shelves in those big stores they call supermarkets. Its most kind of staff to leave eatables just where my nose can reach them …! Anyway I digress. As I was saying, I was at Gipsy Hill station yesterday when this furry tease (she is called Fanny I understand) sat on the Oystercard reader arching her back at me. I wagged my tail furiously but she wasn’t having any of it and kept well out of my way and, to cap it all my owner told me to behave. Fancy telling me to “behave”, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth (it would be swallowed so fast it wouldn’t have time to melt)! This feline fiend has even got her own Twitter account (https://twitter.com/thegipsyhillcat). Who ever heard of a mere cat having such a thing. I demand one immediately!
THIS IS FANNY
Yours disconsolately
Trigger
I am the one you pass without a second glance.
I am the one who can dance
my feet
moving to a forbidden beat.
I am the work that keeps him late
While at home you wait.
I am the scent that lingers
On fingers.
I am a smile
A guilty denial.
I am the bump that grows
Fingers and toes.
I am new life.
You are his wife.
Were high heels for they make you tall
But be careful lest you fall.
Situations are slippery as eels.
The ground feels
firm
but the worm
may turn
and swallow
the hollow
you.
Were high heels for you are pretty
And the citty
Is full of witty
Men
Who employ their pen
To record every slip
And trip.
Watch the pavement as you walk
For people talk
And reputations are brittle as bones
That break on stones …
I awoke to the rain
drumming on my window pane.
Opening my lattice I let it in
the purifying water that washes away sin.
The hypnotic sound
of rain falling all around.
All my life I have listened to the rain.
The same drumming
of water coming
from the sky
falling on you and I.
The rain has no end
But you and I my friend
May listen for a while
Smile
then pass on by.
I must confess to being a little disappointed on receiving the below reply, in response to my submission of several poems to a magazine.
“I read the poems with interest but nothing takes my fancy”.
It would have given me pleasure to see my work featured on a platform other than my own. There is within the heart of man, deny it though he will, a desire for the approbation of his fellows. I am no exception to this rule. I receive a warm glow every time one of my readers likes or comments on my work. Likewise I derive tremendous pleasure on reading reviews left by my readers.
The approbation of others is not, however what drives me to write. Despite the swearing at my computer and the shaking of my fist in frustration when the words fail to come (at the machine I hasten to add), I can not stop writing for I have an itch which needs to be scratched, scratched and scratched again. Thoughts run through my head and must find expression on the page. I can not help myself. I must put pen to paper and leave it to the gods to determine whether or not my words find a place in people’s hearts.
I would like to close by thanking all my readers for following me at newauthoronline.com and reading my work.
Kevin
K Morris - Poet 