Tag Archives: mortality

The Fox’s Bark

I often find

The fox’s bark

Fills my mind.

 

 

How fast the light

Fades in woodland glades

And becomes the dark

Of suffocating night.

 

In the park

Where children play

His cold, sharp bark

Seems to say

You spend your day

In the sun

But the night

Blots out light

And your day

Is done.

 

(The final stanza is very long compared to the first 2 and I am not sure how the poem hangs together. Would welcome the views of my readers. Thanks. Kevin).

I Can Try

I can try

To immortalise my clock

In a rhyme.

And, when I stop

My rhyme

May still engage

On fading page,

Though I

Shall know it not.

A Fallen Tree

On 3 December, I published this poem, https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/12/03/i-passed-a-log/. Below is a slightly reworked version of my composition entitled A Fallen Tree:

 

 

A fallen tree

Spoke to me

On a

December day.

 

Once it stood

In ancient wood.

Now I

Pass by

As December grows colder

And I ever older.

 

2 Poems from My Poetry Archive

On going through my poetry archives, I came across the below 2 poems. The poems can also be found on my Tiktok, along with many other examples of my poetry, https://www.tiktok.com/@kevinmorrispoet. You don’t have to have a Tiktok account to listen to my work.

 

Epitaph on a poet

 

A book of poems upon his grave

Could not the poet save.

The few his words touched

Failed to keep him from the dust.

 

Here Lies Lot

 

Here lies Lot

He knew not

Neither who nor what.

Yet there he lies

Forever lost to tears and sighs.

 

 

Its Close to 1 Am

Its close to 1 am when

I hear the wild wind shake

My window. Later, when I go

Out I will see

How his dances

Have made free

With poor branches

And leaves

Brought low

By his breeze.

 

When men go

Among fallen trees

And scattered leaves

They know they to must go

And join fallen trees and leaves

We 2 Took a Shortcut Through

We 2 took a shortcut through

The place of stones and bones.

I have some time to rhyme

Of a young woman who

May read this one day,

And, pondering on weathered old gravestones,

Say, “we are but clay”.

I Enter the Graveyard

I enter the graveyard

Where men forget regret

While the living

Forget their eternal

Bed is made

In waiting grave

 

And choose to lose

Their day

In play

With technology,

Which makes none free

Of the eternal grave.

On Hearing Birdsong

On hearing birdsong

I am glad

That I am here

To hear

Their sad, glad song.

 

 

We die

And our love

Dies with us.

 

 

No, it lives on

When we are gone

In those we love.

 

 

And the birds

Sing on

With no care

For where

We have gone.