What if we finally conquer death, and he is no more?
K Morris reading his poem ‘Death is Dead’.
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Tag Archives: kevin morris poet
K Morris reading his poem ‘Circles’.
The debate surrounding sex work/prostitution appears to go around in circles, with one side blaming the sex bias, and saying that they should be fined or imprisoned, while the other argues that the state/society has no business interfering in what occurs between consenting adults. Often, it seems that neither side is listening to the other, while client and sex worker continue in their age-old roles.
K Morris reading his poem ‘Shadows’.
This poem came to me while sitting in my study. Shadows played upon the walls and brought to mind the impermanence of things. I am visually impaired but can see the play of shadows on my wall, although I cannot read print.
K Morris reading his poem ‘Genes’.
Are we just our genes?
On Passing By
The estate agent’s lights fade.
I wander home,
Thinking on other temporary things.
January
The bedclothes
Are neatly made
And the lone head laid
On pillows replete
With the scent of soap powder.
The portrait is complete
For nothing in January grows.
There Was A Young Lady Called Rose
There was a young lady called Rose
Who counted her fingers and toes.
To make quite sure,
She counted them once more,
Then for good measure, she added her nose.
There Was A Young Man Called Is
There was a young man called Is,
Who married a girl named Ought.
They couldn’t agree
On what should be
And ended up in court!
Cadence
Wind chimes
Sound,
Their cadence more profound
Than these sad rhymes.
Fire
Give me an open fire.
My heart’s desire
Sees my dog,
Like some huge log
Lying there.
Into the blaze I stare
And watch the present and the past dance
And romance
Amidst the eternal flame.
