Tag Archives: k morris poet

Encyclopedia Britannica

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Several days ago,  I fell into conversation with an acquaintance while enjoying a  convivial pint in my favourite pub. During our chat he mentioned that the charity shop in which he volunteers has received a  24 volume set of the 1969 encyclopedia britannica. The person in charge of the shop was minded to send encyclopedia britannica for pulping, for which the charity would receive a small payment.

I (along with my acquaintance) where horrified at the thought of this work of reference being destroyed in such a manner. The book is in good condition. Granted much of the content is out of date but that to my mind adds to the intrinsic interest of the work. It is fascinating to look back at how our understanding of the world has changed. For example anyone opening the 1969 encyclopedia britannica will find the Soviet Union portrayed in all it’s “glory” together with references to Persia which, of course no longer exists. Again the explanation of computers is very outdated which adds to the historical interest of the 1969 encyclopedia britannica.

Leaving aside the beauty of the book (it’s binding etc), the work is a collectors item. encyclopedia britannica is no longer available in a print edition (at least in it’s traditional form of many volumes occupying much shelf space) and has been replaced by an online portal, Britannica.com. Looking online for encyclopedia britannica, I found the 1969 edition is available on Ebay at an asking price of £323. Consequently quite apart from the barbarity of trashing this piece of history the book is, in fact much more valuable in tact rather than as pulp.

I haven’t bumped into my acquaintance since our conversation regarding encyclopedia britannica. I sincerely hope that when we next meet he will impart the news that the 1969 encyclopedia britannica has found a good home on a bibliophile’s bookshelves!

 

Kevin

The Mermaid

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“Jump in

and swim.

The water is cold

but the bold

will find gold

in the dank cave

which the brave

mermaid

may explore”.

Mermen adore

the rocky sea floor

and will implore

you to play

as the day

darkens.

The wise mermaid harkens

to the gull

who cries above,

“it is not love.

‘Tis better to stay on the sand warm

than have your heart torn

asunder

by mermen who plunder”.

The waves thunder

And the mermaid does wonder

About gold dust

Lust

And sin.

The Fairy Ring

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The ring is no longer magic

but the tragic

fairies continue to dance.

There is no romance

yet as a magnet to the metal

man can not settle

and is drawn

to this sight forlorn.

The flesh tires.

Desires

cool

but the fool

plays with the burning coal.

Man’s goal

is the salvation of his soul.

The fairies cease their play

as day

breaks.

Man as from a dream awakes

and forsakes

for a time

the circle, once thought so divine.

 

Time

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The reaper moves

In time with the pendulum.

No rush

Or fuss

He has plenty of time.

My patient friend

whose tick portends

my inevitable end.

You rest in state

on my bookcase.

Tick tock

I can not stop

time’s sithe.

None can survive

his cut.

Though in a cupboard my clock be shut

death can not be put

aside

The sickle chops

And the heart will, one day, stop.

Siren

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Rocks and bar stools.

Men are fools!

She combs her hair

Oh man beware!

Cupid’s arrow is shot

And duty forgot.

She is giving him the eye.

The gods sigh.

Her voice so sweet.

Those dainty feet.

Passion into his heart creeps.

“Come play with me in the ocean deep.

In my warm embrace you may sleep

Locked in the arms of love

As Venus smiles above”,

She says

Her song musical as the waves.

But all singing ends

As to the depths they descend.

A Poet To A Young Maiden And The Girl’s Reply

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“Let us pile high the fire my dear.

Come you near

and warm the cockles of your heart.

Let us practice love’s art.

Draw closer and sit upon my knee.

Let us make free

like the amorous swan

for time rolls on

and desire, ‘tis soon gone.

 

“Sir

My mother warned me to beware

Of poets who pretty verses spin

Lest they lead me into sin.

Good night to you noble sir

I must be off and wash my hair”.

Listening To The Morning

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The sun on my bookcase.

Books, their plain binding suffused with light.

Cars pass.

The song of the bird, here then gone.

The traffic continues on

Swishing as the great tide

That ebbs and flows.

The bird sings again

Competing with the vehicles noise (and winning)!

A crow khaws once.

A woodpecker joins in.

9:40, sitting at my computer, listening to the morning.

Fiona Sinclair And Message In A Bottle Poetry Magazine

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Several days ago I was helped across the road by the partner of the poet, Fiona Sinclair. Fiona was on her way to the Poetry Society for a poetry reading. I must confess to not having been familiar with Fiona’s work prior to our chance (and very brief) meeting earlier this week.

On reaching home I did some digging (if one can do such a thing as digging online) and found that in addition to her own work Fiona also produces “Message In A Bottle”, a magazine featuring the work of poets other than herself. The magazine’s description reads as follows:

 

“Fiona started the poetry magazine Message in a Bottle about seven years ago. The magazine was started at the height of her illness as an antidote to boredom.

The only remit is that the work be unusual and well written. The magazine is now Poetry Kit recommended. Several of the poems included have won Poetry

Kit awards. It now attracts the best of poets from all over the world and is enhanced by the artwork of  Derek Sellen”. (For information on the magazine please visit http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/message-in-a-bottle.php.

Unfortunately (unless I am missing a trick) there appears to be no contact information for the magazine (or Fiona Sinclair herself) on her website.

Much of Fiona’s poetry concerns the personal. Take, for example her poem “How To Lose A Friend” (http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/how-to-lose-a-friend.php), in which the poet describes in a matter of fact manner how she lost a friend. The poem’s matter of factness adds to the poignancy of the poem.

For Fiona Sinclair’s website please visit http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/.