I have awoken to birdsong
And lain awake
Until sleep takes me again.
I measure time
With clocks. Birds and flowers
No not hours,
Nor do they see me
Conversing with time
In a half rhyming rhyme
Until my song is done.
It rained last night.
The wet trees brushed
Against my thirsting flesh.
The delight
Of parched park refreshed
By rain.
We may try to deny
That Mother Nature is there.
But the bur
On our clothes.
The prick of the rose.
And twigs in our hair.
Show what we know,
That nature is there.
I am pleased to announce that my poem A Summer Butterfly has been included on the World Poetry Reading Series for 21 July. A Summer Butterfly is read by Ariadne Sawyer and can be found approximately 6 minutes into the podcast https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-for-july-21-2022/.
I listened to the show using Google Chrome. However, other browsers should also work. You don’t need an account on Mixcloud in order to listen.
You can find a transcript of my poem here https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/07/05/a-summer-butterfly/.
Why do I try
To cage
A blackbird in my paper cage?
In spring he sings
And makes for me
Sublime poetry.
That I can not cage
Within my poor poetic cage.
As the light
Slowly dimmed
I took delight
In birds.
“Oh my god!”.
But words
Are not birds.
I hear the free
Wind,
And the birds sing.
And long to be
Free
As the unconquerable wind
And birds
That sing.
In the cold air
A bird did sing.
I have my care.
But I heard a blackbird
Trill in the chill air,
Which took away my care.
An intense sense
Of my mortality
Comes to me
When I hear
The sweet clear
Song of birds.
Oft when caught
In useless thought
Or in empty words,
I hear the birds.
I see beauty.
And am free
Dusk softly falls
. As blackbirds call
Tis a kind of poetry
As brother calls to brother.
Or, more prosaically,
Its merely territory.
But tis poetry to me.
K Morris - Poet 