Summer ball
Scented park at evenfall
Owl’s haunting call
Girl’s teasing words
Perhaps misheard
Oh vanity, how absurd!
Summer Ball
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Tag Archives: k morris author
The Wolf And The Owl
The wise old owl scowled,
At the lone grey wolf who howled,
As she prowled,
Intent on deeds most foul,
Under the rising moon.
Said the owl, “Must you howl,
In a manner quite so foul?
You cause my head to ache,
Go and jump in yonder lake.
Said the wolf, “Make no mistake,
It is getting late,
The lake is freezing cold,
And I am not so bold”.
Is Blogging A Waste Of Time?
A post in which L. L. Barkat argues that it is time for writers to stop blogging, (http://janefriedman.com/2013/03/15/its-time-for-many-experienced-writers-to-stop-blogging/). As an author with a blog and someone who blogs often, I don’t agree with Barkat’s perspective. Her views do, however deserve a hearing.
Barkat’s main argument is that most blogs receive comparatively few views so writers would be better spending their time (that not reserved for writing books) composing articles for sites with a big audience. Writing articles for big name sites will, in Barkat’s view gain more exposure for the writer than blogging via a personal blog.
I relish the connection my blog, newauthoronline.com provides between mmy followers and I. Such a connection can not exist where one writes exclusively for big name sites where there exists no direct link between the writer and their audience. There is, however no reason why a writer or any other blogger can not utilise their own personal site while also writing for websites with a following running into the hundreds of thousands (assuming one is lucky enough to be afforded the opportunity to contribute to such sites)! Barkat is correct that the writer needs to keep a watchful eye on their blogging to ensure it doesn’t eat up time which could be devoted to writing books.
I have no intention of ceasing my meanderings on this blog so don’t crack open the champagne just yet …!
Can One Place A Value On Artistic Creations?
“Cecil Graham: What is a cynic?
Lord Darlington: A man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.
Cecil Graham: And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man who sees an absurd value in everything and doesn’t know the market price of any single
thing.”
(Oscar Wilde. Lady Windermere’s Fan).
According to the above, I am a sentimentalist for I had no idea what price to attach to my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”. Indeed I must confess to finding the attaching of monetary value to artistic creations rather distasteful. For me literature and art more generally possesses a value in and of itself which can not be reduced to a matter of pounds, shillings and pence. Food feeds the stomach while art nourishes the soul. While the former is vital to the survival of the species, once food is eaten that is an end of the matter while, with art exposure to it continues to feed the spirit long after the creation in question has vanished from view. Poems I read as a boy continue to resonate with me today while countless meals are long since forgotten. Of course one may remember a dinner for the excellent companionship of friends but only on rare occasions will the food consumed figure in one’s recollections.
Having said all that, I do, of course accept that man does not exist by consuming fresh air alone. Authors must earn (and deserve to earn) a crust. Consequently it is necessary for me and other authors to attach monetary value to our creations. In the case of “Dalliance” I discussed the matter of price with several colleagues and friends who had read the book. None where of much help. One colleague suggested a price range of between £8 to £20. Given that “Dalliance” runs to 68 pages I felt that £20 was much to high. Eventually I consulted the man who owns my local bookshop, Bookseller Crow. He suggested a price of £7.99 which we agreed upon. This will cover the cost of producing “Dalliance” and, I hope allow both myself and the good purveyor of books to earn a crust.
In conclusion, books do possess an inherent value which can not be translated into purely monetary terms. However in the real world it is necessary (as with other artistic creations) to assign a price to them. However, deep in my soul I feel that it is sacreligious to place a financial value on Keats “Ode to A Nightingale” or Arnold’s “Dover Beach”.
To A Mail Order Bride And Her Husband
Passion fragile as glass
Bliss empty as the passing of cash.
Love that endures while money lasts.
Lonleness yawns, it’s mouth vast
The Cynic
There is no love, only lust.
There is no flesh, tis but dust.
There is no joy, only moan.
Friendship tis fleeting, man dies alone.
K Morris Featured Poet On Laura A Lord’s Website
Many thanks to Laura A Lord for featuring me on her website, (http://lauraalord.com/2015/06/24/kevin-morris-featured-poet/).
Kevin
A Review Of My Book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”
On checking the reviews of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” I was delighted to see that a new review has been posted, which reads as follows:
“Kevin Morris shares his serious inner life in “Dalliance” in simple but often powerful poems and short, gritty vignettes full of honest feeling and meaning.
He shares his acute sense of hearing and touch and his connectedness with Nature and the elements. He feels rain and wind on his face, either warm like
a lover, or piercing and chill. His communion with birdsong reminds us that we are trapped in an over-stimulated electronic world out of earshot of the
call of the wild. Kevin clearly hears these sounds through and above our babble even in the pub, and may transfer his feelings onto them, sometimes his
sense of isolation. The pearl of this collection is a poem about the “eternal” wind, which has no regard for our petty civilisation: it is the ultimate
renewable power. The wind is from everlasting to everlasting. He hears the hoot of the deadly swooping owl intent in its prey. He feels and describes the
touch of the acorn, something he has loved since gathering acorns with his grandfather. His short stories are deeply felt and based on newstories told
with compassion. In sharing his gift, he opens up our own senses to the music of nature, the wind and birdsong, which is balm to the bruised soul. Highly
enjoyable!”.
Thank you to the reviewer for the above review which can be found here, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R16IO99Q8EZCSG/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00QQVJC7E).
Kevin
Deliberately Bad Writing
Inspired by this article (http://www.walesonline.co.uk/incoming/terrible-writing-leads-top-bulwer-lytton-7568759), about a civil servant who won a literary prize for deliberately bad writing, I thought I would try to produce something designed to make the lover of literature groan. Below is my attempt at deliberately bad writing:
It was freezing. Even the penguins wore fur coats while the polar bears refused to come out of their centrally heated homes. Bethany tripped along in her summer dress, without a care in the world, taking evasive action so as not to catch her 6 inch stilettos in the snowdrifts which had, somehow appeared overnight on the streets of Blackpool.
Pausing Bethany rummaged in the pocket of her skimpy clothing for the key to her front door. Or she would have done so had that garment possessed pockets which, quite naturally it didn’t.
“Blow me down with a feather”, Bethany said taking a closer look at her home, “I don’t remember buying an igloo”!
And The Logical Place For A Jar Of Coffee is …
As an author, my mind sometimes wanders from the matter in hand and focuses on my writing. Yesterday I was making coffee. Not a difficult job as it merely entailed opening a jar of instant, spooning in coffee, adding milk and pouring boiling water into the mug. Yet I still managed to complicate this simple process.
“Why is there no milk in my coffee?” I asked myself.
On opening the fridge I discovered a jar of instant coffee comfortably ensconced next to the milk. Now I distinctly remember taking the milk out of the fridge. However instead of pouring milk into the mug I had returned it unopened to the fridge together with the jar of instant coffee!
On another occasion so intent was I on contemplating matters of a literary nature that I added both a tea bag and instant coffee to my mug. Now I am a relatively adventurous soul and am always willing to try out new things. I did, however draw the line at coffee mixed with tea!
I would be interested to hear from authors and readers. Am I alone in my odd coffee making habits?! I suspect others fall prey to the distraction of the book they are working on or reading and do bizarre things. Would you care to share what they are?
Kevin
K Morris - Poet 