Venus’s star
Will shine bright
Tonight
On flowers in a jar.
Lovers will raise
A glass in praise
Of the goddess most fair
And stare
In rapture
At the blooms which so exquisitely capture
The essence of Valentine’s day,
For they
being artificial, can not fade away
There was a young lady called Tash
Who being strapped for cash,
Drove a Sherman tank,
Through the wall of a bank.
You should have heard that terrible crash!
What the neighbours see
Need not concern you and me,
For our lives are so boring
We will have them snoring.
So lets continue ignoring
The twitching curtain
For it is certain
They can only perceive
The milkman leave
The milk,
As we wave him goodbye in our dressinggown of silk …
What the neighbours spy
Need not concern you and I
For walls are thin
And we can not help but hear the din
Of the squeaking bed
When Mrs Ed
Is away.
So we say
“Hi”
As we pass by
But do not catch our neighbour’s eye …
The mechanical man lears,
His gears
Responding to well-worn
Stimuli,
As a doll he does spy.
Hearts are torn
In twain.
Although some maintain
That as neither care,
They can have no heart to tear.
There was a young lady called Honey
Who believed there was lots of money
In the writing life,
So she became the wife
Of a writer who thought her idea was terribly funny!
An interesting post entitled “Is rhyming poetry out?”, followed on by a fascinating exchange of views on the question, (https://jcmannone.wordpress.com/the-poetry-classroom-2/is-rhyming-poetry-out/).
Much of my poetry is expressed in rhyme. Take, for example my poem “My Old Clock I wind”:
“My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop With my hand,
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone”.
I must confess to having a preference for poetry expressed in a traditional manner. That is not to say that I discount poetry written as free or blank verse (there is much good poetry expressed in diverse forms, together with some which is to my mind at least of lesser quality).
Kevin
On 18 December 2016, Chris the Story Reading Ape kindly published a guest post by me titled How to Get and Do Radio Interviews.
In that article I wrote about my experience of being interviewed by my local radio station, Croydon Radio, together with my appearance on the Magic Happens (a show hosted by the ever helpful Annette on Blogtalk Radio.
Since the publication of my post on the Story Reading Ape’s blog, I have been featured on the World Poetry Reading Series, and in Pax Et Dolor Magazine.
Both Pax Et Dolor Magazine and The World Poetry Reading Series (the latter is hosted by Vancouver Co-Op Radio) offer excellent opportunities for poets to promote their work.
In the case of The World Poetry Reading Series (hosted by Ariadne Sawyer and Neil Ryan), poets are offered the opportunity to talk about their work and read a selection of their poetry.
A podcast of the programme is subsequently made available which poets can share with their readers/followers, (note: Croydon Radio and Blogtalk Radio also offer this facility).
To contact The World Poetry Reading Series please visit the link above.
Pax Et Dolor Magazine publishes poetry together with writing on a variety of other topics. To contact Pax Et Dolor Magazine please visit them at the above link.
If you know of any other outlets for publicising poetry and writing more generally, please feel free to comment below.
Kevin
“A storm is coming” they said
Yet I hear no thunder
Overhead.
I wonder
Why this dread
Of the mighty Thor?
We close window and door
And watch the lightning’s flame
Put our civilisation to shame.
Thor he came
Long before
I was a twinkle in my parents eye
And the gods will remain
(but not so you and I).
There was a young poet called Matt
Who composed a poem about his cat.
The feline scratched himself
And remarked, “come the twelth,
I shall write one better than that!”.
What is a double bed?
A place where the dread
Of what comes after this brief life
Is momentarily lost
In the arms of mistress or wife.
What is a double bed?
A place where the lone head
Sleeps
And sometimes weeps.
What is a bed?
A place of joy and pain,
Where we return again and again
Until we are slain
By the final sleep.
K Morris - Poet 