There was a young man named Strange
Who said, “everything must change!”.
So he changed it all around
But, discovering nothing at all profound,
Again he made a change!
Change
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Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
When a Middle-Aged Lady Named Ann
When a middle-aged lady named Ann
Said, “have you seen my man?”.
I said, “he went off with Bess.
A blonde in a little black dress.
And why are you waving that pan!
Street Cat
The below is dedicated to my friend’s cat:
There once was a wiley street cat
Who liked to do this and that.
When she went out on the town
All her sorrows to drown,
It ended in a scrap!
—
There once was a wiley street cat
Who liked to do this and that.
She went out on the town
All her sorrows to drown,
With a rat whose name was Matt!
Let it Be
Earlier today, I went for a walk with a friend in Spa Wood, (a woodland which is just a short stroll from my home).
My friend had not seen the woods since 2019 and remarked that the canopy was not as thick as was previously the case. She also noted, with regret that a number of trees had succumbed to the axe.
A number of trees (including holly) have been removed, the reason given being that the conservationists wish to return the wood (so far as is possible) to it’s traditional state, in which trees such as the great oak held sway.
Whilst I understand the perspective of the conservationists, I liked the wood as it was prior to the clearance of holly and other plants which where not part of the original forest. Whilst the woods still contain a delightful blend of light and shade, the dark heart is not as dark as was previously the case, and that I regret.
I am, by temprament a Conservative. I like the familiar, whether that be my favourite local pub with its open fire, or the woodland close to my home. That which exists gives me pleasure and I am one of those individuals who, when someone advocates a change requires to be convinced of it’s necessity.
Of course some might argue that my Conservative disposition should incline me to support the restoration of the woods as they were in the past. However there is a difference between the Reactionary and the Conservative. Whilst the Reactionary wants to return to some “golden age”, the Conservative is inclined to revel in the enjoyment of what exists rather than to wish to put the clock back to some former time.
The person of a Conservative frame of mind does value institutions, tradition etc for they have stood the test of time which demonstrates to him that they possess value and, as such they inspire loyalty.
Given my Conservative disposition, I wish to preserve the beautiful old oaks. However I also relished the variety provided by the (now largely removed) holly.
My friend (who is no Conservative in the political sense of the word) feels the same as me, as regards the woodland, which goes to show that conservatism (with a small c) is an important component of the human condition.
Some time back I wrote “A Dialogue”, which does, I think touch on some of the issues outlined above:
There is a frame of mind
That says “leave as you find.
Let the great Oak alone
And spare the ancient stone
For they serve a purpose
If one looks beneath the surface
Of things”.
Others bring
To bare a mind
Which no beauty doth find
In oak and stone
“For they stand in the way
Of a brighter day”.
“But if you pull the tree down
What then supports the ground?
For the roots go deep
And people weep
When the oak falls
On ancient halls”.
“Let us wield the axe and be glad
For the old ways are bad.
New seed we will sow
The past must go”.
They are arguing still
As the sun sinks
O’er vale and hill.
“A Dialogue” can be found in “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”, which is available here, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AF5EPVY/
Christine Who I’ve Never Seen
There is a young lady named Christine
Who I swear that I’ve never seen.
Her husband Lee
Is looking for me.
But I’ve never seen blonde Christine!
When A Rather Vicious Looking Bunny
When a rather vicious looking bunny
Said, “give me all your money!”.
And I said, “are you a highwayman?”,
He said, “no, my name is Dan,
But my friends all call me Honey!”.
Do Good Men Count Sheep
Do good men count sheep
As they enter dreamless sleep.
And bad men count heels
(And, losing count of deals
Done for fun
Fall into a troubled sleep)?
Do good men cherish each part
Of a lover’s heart.
Whilst wicked men
Take up their pen
When a girl departs,
And immortalise them in art?
“Ode to a Nightingale” by John Keats, read by Stephen Fry
Yesterday evening, I ran a quiz for friends on Zoom. One of the questions I posed was who wrote these lines:
“My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease”.
The answer is, of course John Keats, the poem in question being “Ode to a Nightingale”.
Along with “Autumn”, “Ode to a Nightingale” is one of my favourite poems, written by a poet who died at a tragically young age.
You can find a wonderful reading of “Ode to a Nightingale”, read by Stephen Fry here,
.
Caught Up in Thought
Caught up in thought
Amidst these spring flowers.
How many hours
Have I spent
Denying that our time is lent.
Then, birdsong
Breaks through my useless thought.
And I recognise
That human eyes
Do not see for long.
And that I ought
To fill my mind
With birdsong.
Yet, I find
That my brain
Oft runs like an express train
And will not be still.
But, sometimes, its just the sky
And I
And the poignancy of birdsong,
That will not last long.
Girls Online
There was a young lady truly divine
Who spent much of her time online.
When on the internet
Her name was Yvette.
But she was Ted when not online …
K Morris - Poet 