There was a young man called Ron
Who wrote a poem about a swan.
He said to the bird,
“Have you my poem heard?”
But the swan had long since gone.
Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
Rose
Compose a poem about the deep red rose,
And how it’s scent does perfume the soft evening air,
And I swear
Readers will raise
You up with praise.
Compose a verse about the rose
And the bee’s burning lust,
(Oh see how they are both but dust),
And I will eat my hat
If the poet does not receive a brickbat
Or the vilence
Of silence
K Morris reading his poem ‘She stood upon her head’.
Poet Kevin Morris reading his poem ‘She stood upon her head’.
K Morris reading his poem ‘Cigarette’.
Poet Kevin Morris reading his poem ‘Cigarette’.
Sometimes
Sometimes I attempt to shout down the birds
And choose
To lose
Myself in words.
But as a dart
Ere long
Their song
Pierces my heart.
On occasions I try
To escape the owl’s cry
And pretend
There is no end
To meet
And sheet.
But as night falls,
He calls to me.
The Fall
The bird’s call
To man, who’s fall
Brought
Him knowledge. Now caught
Up in his thought
He hears words,
While the birds
Sing,
Welcoming the spring.
There Was A Young Man Called Matt
There was a young man called Matt
Who kept an enormous rat.
It caused the girls to scream,
But some say I dream,
And it was, in fact a cat!
A review of my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind And Other Poems”
I am grateful to Annette Rochelle Aben, for writing the below honest review of my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”, in exchange for a free electronic copy of the book:
28 March 2017
My review for “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems” by Kevin Morris
If you have yet to find yourself lost in a book of poetry by English poet, Kevin Morris, then lose yourself in My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems. Allow yourself to wander through the changing seasons, to experience the magic of limericks, and to be entertained by the musings of a man who sees this world through different eyes.
You’ll learn about girls with unsuitable shoes, what having dinner with Dracula might be like and wonder if a garden log might be an alligator or perhaps a crocodile. Be thought provoked, by a magpie and perhaps find yourself shaking your head in agreement with the last line of Kevin’s Melting Ice. “and now the call, of the bird, goes unheard, by those drunk on their own words.”
For Kevin Morris, another notch on the belt of his writing career. For us, the readers, yet another opportunity to experience the world through the poetic eyes of a multi-faceted English poet. My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems belongs in your collection.
Coin
She was hot as the weather
As hell for leather,
They rolled in the heather
With the chink of coin
To join
Them together.
There Was A Young Man Called Birch
There was a young man called Birch
Who never would go to church.
The vicar did say
“For your soul I shall pray.
You reprehensible young man called Birch!”