I am dating a beautiful young lap dancer
And sometimes I like to romance her.
When I have money
She calls me hunny,
But when I don’t she calls me chancer!
Dating a Lap Dancer
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Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
Thoughts in Late August
My dog has no conception
Of my introspection
As he rolls on grass
In dying August.
I think on the past
While he takes pleasure
In the sweet summer weather.
Knowledge can be a fearful thing.
I know my spring
Has long passed.
Yet my friend makes me smile
For a brief while
As unaware that all things pass
He enjoys the grass.
Pistols at Dawn!
When a man said, “its pistols at dawn
To take place on the vicar’s fine lawn”.
I said, “my dear Lou
I won’t be joining you.
I’ll leave it to you and Miss Dawn!”
When a man said, “its pistols at dawn
To take place on the vicar’s fine lawn”.
I said, “my dear Lou
I won’t be joining you.
I’ll leave it to you and Miss Dawn!”
Autumn Days
As I stood
In the leaf-strewn wood
Listening to birdsong,
I heard the leaves
Falling from trees
And thought how short
Is our birdsong.
And the Autumn breeze
Scented with leaves
Spoke of the joy
Of temperate days.
Yes, everything must decay.
But autumn lawns
Are covered in acorns
And children play
As I once did
When I hid
Amidst these Autumn trees
And fallen leaves.
Temporary
The ageless wind
In these waving trees
Whispers to me
Of eternity.
Passing by a lorry
I smile
At that metal thing.
So temporary.
While the wild wind
Is forever free.
Archaic Language or References in Poetry
Some time ago, a friend commented that a number of my poems where, in his view a little old fashioned in their use of language and references. When I asked him for an example, he sighted my not infrequent references to “the Reaper” and “the Grim Reaper”. At that juncture I was somewhat taken off guard and did not, so far as I can recollect provide my friend with a coherent response to his comments on my poetry. However, a little while after the conversation with him took place, I happened to hear Blue Oyster Cult’s “Baby Don’t Fear” playing, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy4HA3vUv2c&list=RDDy4HA3vUv2c&start_radio=1
Whilst I certainly would never advocate that poets go back to writing in the style of the Elizabethans, or to that of the Victorians, I don’t believe that writers of poetry should be constrained in their poetic creations by what some people hold to be archaic references or language should they choose to employ such references or vocabulary. I, for one shall continue to engage with my old acquaintance the Reaper, for we are on nodding terms having met whilst I spent some 6 weeks in the Walton Neuro Centre after having under gone an operation for the removal of a brain abscess.
You can find a video of me reading my poem “time”, which references the Reaper here Time
For “Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death”, which was written primarily during my stay in hospital, please visit Passing Through: Some thoughts on life and death: Amazon.co.uk: Morris, K: 9798284279151: Books
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Today I found my old shoes by the settee
And remembered you and me.
Your breasts where firm. Your skin youthful and tight
When I indulged last night.
Afterwards, your perfume lingered
On my pillows and fingers.
You kissed me goodbye.
And today I ponder on my settee
Bought in my youth
And the truth, I am growing old.
The Haunted Old House
When I stayed in a haunted old house
With ghastly ghouls and a very small mouse,
I awoke with a fright
As the clock struck midnight,
And ghouls screamed with fear of that mouse!
The Poem of Age 35, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci.
Yesterday, whilst Zooming with fellow poets, I was introduced to “The Poem of Age 35”, by Turkish poet Cahit Sitki Taranci. I have never visited Turkey and know very little of Turkish culture. I was, however deeply impressed and moved by Cahit Sitki Taranci’s “The Poem of Age 35”. Hence I am sharing it here The Poem of Age 35 by Cahit Sitki Taranci – Eppur Si Muove
White Poet Pretended to be Black to Get Published
Aaron Barry, a white poet pretended to be black and had poems published which had previously been rejected when submitted under his own name. This story has not surprisingly provoked a good deal of controversy and I’ll leave it to you my readers to make up your own minds on the rightness or otherwise of the situation described in this article How white man became famous as a queer Nigerian poet – Businessday NG, and Elsewhere online.
K Morris - Poet 