Tag Archives: k morris poet

The importance of the “About” page

11 Replies

On visiting a blog for the first time, I frequently click on the “About” page. I have lost count of the number of occasions when I have been greeted with the following words:
“This is an example of a page …”.

It is, of course entirely a matter for each site owner to determine what is displayed on their pages. It is, however disappointing for a potential follower to click on a blog only to find that the “About” page still carries the standard wording provided by WordPress.

I understand that people value their privacy (I do too)! However you don’t have to provide your home address and other personal details. In my opinion just a few sentences about why you started the blog and perhaps a few words about yourself create a much better impression than leaving the WordPress wording quoted above in place.

If, for whatever reason you don’t want an “About” page perhaps consider deleting it (although, in my view this would be a mistake).

In short, keeping the standard WordPress wording can create a poor first impression and may mean the difference between a person clicking on your blog following (or not following) you.

Kevin

A CD of me reading my poetry will soon be available

3 Replies

I am pleased to announce that a CD featuring me reading 13 of my poems will soon be available. The poems are as follows:
1. Fire.
2. My Old Clock I Wind.
3. Leaf.
4. Leaves Blown At Night.
5. Lost.
6. Ethereal.
7. Waltz.
8. The Poet and the Workman.
9. There Was A Young Man Called Rory.
10. There Was A Young Lady Called Flair.
11. There Was A Young Lady Called Anna.
12. When.
13. Dalliance.

My thanks to Peter Brazier of Vertical Rooms for his assistance in producing the CD.

img_8704

If you are interested in obtaining a copy please contact me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, (the address is rendered thus to avoid that scourge of the internet, spammers)!

Kevin

There Was A Young Man From Eeling

Leave a reply

There was a young man from Eeling
Who liked to dance on the ceiling.
His neighbour said,
“Your visits I dread
As you always dance on my ceiling!”.

—

There was a young man from Eeling
Who liked to dance on the ceiling.
The girl nextdoor
Said “I implore
You to come and dance on my ceiling!”.

There Was A Young Lady Called Mia

2 Replies

There was a young lady called Mia
Who was obsessed with the blogosphere.
Her partner Ned
In sorrow said,
“I shall be leaving, Mia!”

—

There was a young lady called Mia
Who was obsessed with the blogosphere.
Her partner Ned
Asked “are you coming to bed?”
She answered “my followers need me dear!”

—

There was a young lady called Mia
Who was obsessed with the blogosphere.
Her boyfriend Mark
Said “the truth is stark.
I feel that I am not here!”

—

There was a young lady called Mia
Who was obsessed with the blogosphere.
Her boyfriend Ned
Asked “are you coming to bed?”
She replied, “just one more comment dear!”

There Was A Young Man Called Hogg

2 Replies

There was a young man called Hogg
Who kept a very large dog.
When people asked “does it bite?”
He replied “he might,
But not if your name it is Hogg!”

—

There was a young man called Hogg
Who kept a very large dog.
They went out in the pitch black
And never came back.
I surmise they got lost in a bog.

—

There was a young man called Hogg
Who kept a very large dog.
They went out one night
And got quite a fright
From the crocodile disguised as a log …!

An Elderly Man Of The World Looks Back

Leave a reply

When young
Caution he flung
Away,
For he knew from the start,
In the secret recesses of his heart
They would not stay,
(The girls out for fun,
After whom he did run).

There is no disgrace
In the chase
He thought
But why court
When a sort
Of love is so easily bought?

They came and went.
His heart was rent
As money he spent
On an attachment
To a kind of detachment
Which led …

Now in old age
He does uselessly rage
At the phantoms who dance
In a parrady of romance
Upon the stage
Of his own creation.
His anticipation Has turned to dust
Aleviated only by occasional flowerings of lust.