Girlie conversation
As heels pass him by.
No lass
Just the empty glass
And his anticipation
Null.
Yet I
Know that hope
Is the last thing to die
Null
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
There Was A Young Lady Called Holly
There was a young lady called Holly
Who’s favourite word was golly.
At her boarding school
She broke every rule
Along with her best friend Molly!
—
There was a young lady called Holly
Who’s favourite word was golly.
At her boarding school
She played the fool
Along with a cat named Molly!
—
There was a young lady called Holly
Who wrote poetry far from jolly.
Being rather posh
She said golly and gosh,
And she lived in an ancient folly.
There Was A Transhumanist Called Guy
There was a Transhumanist called Guy
Who said “I shall never die”.
But there is a spot,
A graveyard plot
Where his family pause and sigh.
Out of Place
I would
That this forest,
This little wood
In which I trace
The seasons slow pace
Could remain
The same.
Spring
Summer, autumn and winter does bring
A natural order to this changing thing
Which alters not, save in accordance with nature’s law.
The woodland floor
Is now with leaves strewn
But soon
Winter’s chill
Will
Lay an icey hand
Upon this land.
Yet it is not as before
As the forest floor
Is strewn with leaves in summers overly hot
For man has forgot
The natural order of things
And his action brings
The leaves too early down.
The town
It flows towards the countryside.
The urban tide
May rise
And sweep
That which I would keep
Away.
The planners say
“The people must have somewhere to stay.
We must build a little on the greenbelt
Where once the owl dwelt
In solitude.
We can not exclude
The young who need their own home”.
The squire has long since gone
And progress marches on.
There is nothing to hold
Dear but gold
And we are told
That we should “embrace
This marketplace
In all things, while the stupid left speak of an equality
Which can never be
For in this world of tears, we can not be
Both equal and free.
Sometimes I look back with nostalgia to the squire
And half desire
Him to rise
From his grave
And the country save
From this tide
Of progress
Where left and right contend
Over who can best defend
This sterile world of high tech screens,
While country scenes
Are lost, save in dreams.
Hotter
I sit here
In the autumn of my year
And my voice raise
In praise
Of the god of progress.
They say
That robotic bees
Are on their way
But I know that the seas
Boil
With oil.
The temperature is relatively normal for the time of year
(Although autumn has been unusually hot).
I shall enjoy it while it lasts
For more storm blasts
And weather hot
Are what
Are on the way.
I heard an ostridge say,
With his head in the sand,
“You must understand
That climate change isn’t true,
Those experts are all lieing to you!”.
The weather will grow hotter my ostridge friend
However much you may pretend
That what
Is, is not.
I shall enjoy this autum day
And think on how nature does the forest floor dress
In fallen leaves, and think on progress
But towards what
I know not.
Yet hope is the last thing to die
And I
Have faith that we may overrule
The fool
Who believes not
That the world is getting hot.
There Was A Young Man Of Crystal Palace
There was a young man of Crystal Palace
Who married a girl from Dallas.
I hear they met
On the internet
And he never went to Dallas.
There Was A Young Shopgirl Of Crystal Palace
There was a young shopgirl of Crystal Palace
Who was sometimes known as Alice.
On a day in November
Or was it December?
She left with the till for Dallas!
What Is This Thing Under The Bed?
What is this thing
Under the bed?
A girl’s shoe left behind
For a lover to find.
A string
To tie
You to I,
But love is dead.
There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
She would walk around town
In the vicar’s dressing gown.
Believe me its perfectly true!
—
There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she walked down the street
In nought but her bare feet
The vicar he ran after Lou
—
There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she strolled through the town
In the vicar’s dressing gown,
His wife she would run after Lou!
Bloggers and Echo Chambers
A blog is not a democracy, by which I mean that the blog owner has a right to determine it’s content, including whether to approve comments or whether to allow comments at all. As with one’s home, bloggers have the right to decide what is and is not acceptable. The home owner can decide that a guest expressing racist views should leave immediately, as, indeed can the website owner.
As a blog owner I endorse the right of site owners to run their sites as they see fit. If you don’t like the views being expressed and/or the other content of a blog (and the blog owner refuses to publish your perspective) you are at liberty to start your own site on which you can express whatever opinions you like (providing that you do not break the law by so doing). Having said that, I have always operated on the basis that a comment will be approved on my blog irrespective of whether or not the person commenting agrees with me on a given matter, provided that such disagreement is expressed in polite and measured terms. I don’t want newauthoronline.com to become an echo chamber in which only voices which mirror my own are heard. Such a place would lack vibrancy and I would not be comfortable running my blog on this basis. We can all learn from others perspectives and not permitting differing views leads, very quickly to a sterile environment. I won’t allow comments of a hateful nature (for example anyone who wishes to justify the Third Reich will find himself in my spam folder). However, other than such extreme instances I will publish all comments unless they are spammy in nature.
Some six months or so ago I commented on a post. My comment was not approved and the matter slipped to the back of my mind. I was therefore surprised on opening WordPress earlier today to see a response to my comment (the response not appearing on the site but being sent direct to me), in which I was accused of being “ignorant” and my comment having the potential to “hurt” the site’s readership. My comment was measured and politely expressed and so far as I can see the site owner’s refusal to publish it flowed entirely from the fact that they disagreed with my perspective. I am confirmed in this view by the fact that while the post in question had many comments, all of these where in total agreement with the views of the blog owner, in other words an echo chamber. As I say above, bloggers have the right to determine content, including whether or not to approve comments. However by only allowing comments which slavishly agree with their perspectives the site owner risks creating a tedious echo chamber. This maybe good for their ego but it is not good for free and open debate.
Kevin
