Tag Archives: loss


I was deeply moved when, on entering my local pub yesterday (Saturday 17th October), I found that the pub had, on prominent display a photograph of my former guide dog Trigger.

Distance shot of Trigger’s photo

Distance shot of Trigger’s photo

I have long since lost count of the number of occasions on which Trigger and I would visit the pub. Whilst I enjoyed chatting to friends over a pint (or more)! of beer Trigger would enjoy being stroked, or vacuuming up the crisps or nuts which he so adeptly managed to find on the carpet! He was a typical lab/retriever (but possessed of his own unique lovable personality), and is still sadly missed by me, and so many other people who knew him.

The below poem, “Early Morning Walk”, was written shortly after having walked Trigger in woods close to my home. Dogs live in the moment. They do not become obsessed with useless thought as do we humans, and we have so much to learn from them.

My dog snuffles
and scuffles
amongst the leaves.
He is just there
With no care
For what I think
As I drink
In the fresh morning air.

Should you happen to be in the Crystal Palace/Gipsy Hill area, and fancy a pint in convivial surroundings, you can find the Railway Bell (and Trigger’s photograph) here, https://www.rampubcompany.co.uk/visit-pubs/railway-bell.

The Railway Pub

My thanks to my friend Jeff for taking the photograph, and my friend Henry for printing it.

Close-up of Trigger’s photo

Close-up of Trigger’s photo

My thanks also to Danielle of The Railway Bell for her kindness in having the photograph framed and arranging for it to be displayed in the pub.

K Morris reading his poem ‘Dog Bed’.

On 2nd September I wrote about the sad death of my guide dog Trigger, which can be found here: https://kmorrispoet.com/2020/09/02/trigger/

I have now recorded my poem ‘Dog Bed’, which was written in memory of Trigger.


The mark
Of your teeth is still there,
On your old dog bed.
I walk in the park,
The dead
Leaves lie.

Shadows on the grass
Mistook for an old friend.
All things pass,
However much we pretend
Otherwise. You closed your eyes,
And left your mark
Upon my heart.

Below are some photographs:

If you would like to donate to the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association, who receive no government funding you can do so here: https://www.guidedogs.org.uk/donate-now

Many thanks in advance to anyone who kindly donates.


Shall I compete
With high-heeled feet
As the gods look down
And snigger or frown?

Aphrodite is flighty
Yet I have thought her divine
And from time to time
Still worship at her shrine.

Nymphs suppress a sigh
And smile.
They will, for a little while
Though they long to hie

May conceal the crack of age.
I am at a loss
But should learn
To turn
Over a new page
For this stage
Is a temporary thing
And I am without a ring


When you leave your shoes
You lose
Them for a while,
Yet there can be no denial
They will be found on the floor
Outside the front door, and you will smile,
Put them on
And be gone.

When you lose your jeans
There will be scenes,
But they will be discovered
On the ground where they lie.
I sigh
And idly speculate
Whether you learned to late
That some things can not be recovered.

Turn the Pillow Over

Turn the pillow over
And wish upon a four leaf clover.
Cover the scent,
The pent
Up desire and loss,
Then count the cost
My friend
For all things come to an end.

The four-leaf clover is considered to be lucky and is rarely found in nature, unlike it’s relation, the thrhee-leaf clover, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four-leaf_clover).


Hyacinths on a gramophone.
They stood
On polished wood.
Their scent carrying me back
Down childhood’s track.
The flower’s smel
Blossoming in a wishing well
With a plastic handle.
My thought tangles
With the ivy that
In a bowl sat.

As a boy
My goal was joy.
The earth was good as the man.
I can
Honeysuckle on a garden wall
And roses, their scent
Is long since spent.
My grandfather went away
Yet in my heart he stays
As I lose myself, in spring days