I can be snobby and proud.
I lose myself in crowds
But rarely feel part of them.
Sometimes I feel myself superior
To other men.
But when my final breath
Is lost in death
There will be
No inferior or superior
Just common dust
As I stood
In the leaf-strewn wood
Listening to birdsong,
I heard the leaves
Falling from trees
And thought how short
Is our birdsong.
And the Autumn breeze
Scented with leaves
Spoke of the joy
Of temperate days.
Yes, everything must decay.
But autumn lawns
Are covered in acorns
And children play
As I once did
When I hid
Amidst these Autumn trees
And fallen leaves.
I enjoy the sunshine
In early summertime
As I pass by tombs,
Stark and white
In the bright light.
I love the wild rain
And how it sound
Wraps me round
Calming my overheated brain.
Civilisation is an intricate clock.
But all clocks stop.
The dance ends my friend.
Listen to the rain
And watch the sun set.
When my friend said, “your poetry is dark”.
I could have said, “should I pretend
That we don’t all end
In the stark dark, my old friend”.
But I smiled and whiled away more time
In drink. But now rhyme
Of you and me. and truth in poetry.
I awoke to rain today.
I will walk where water drips
From spring leaves and flowers
For time slips away
And all our little hours
Are brief as butterflies,
Who flit by without a sigh.
Following on from yesterday’s post, in which I mentioned that my poetry collection, “Passing through: some thoughts on life and death” is now available to purchase in the Amazon Kindle store https://kmorrispoet.com/2025/05/17/passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-by-k-morris-is-available-to-download-in-the-amazon-kindle-store/. I am pleased to let you know that the paperback edition of “Passing through” is now also available. To purchase the paperback edition please visit the below links.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F92G8PPR?
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0F92G8PPR/
I watch with delight
The play of the sunlight
On my wardrobe.
I came out of night
Unrobed into sunlight
To smile for a while.
And return to night.
The tinkle of windchimes
And birdsong heard in my mum’s garden
Brought into my mind
Life’s great beauty, and thoughts of mortality.
I may achieve a kind of immortality
Through my poetry.
But when I go
Above or below
Why should I care
For I will no longer be there
To know
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris.
On a cold December day
I stop
And suddenly become
Aware of the ticking clock.
The sun
Hides it’s face.
It will rain again today.
I will embrace
Old Father Time in rhyme.
I grow older
And sense his great hand
Waiting to land
On my bowing shoulders.
I must try
Not to waste time.
For the clock
Will, one day, … stop
K Morris - Poet 