Poet Kevin Morris reading his poem ‘The path through the woods’.
K Morris reading his poem ‘The path through the woods’.
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Cigarette
Imagine the scene.
She craves nicotine.
“Do you have a cigarette?”
I regret
That I can not answer yes to the question.
Her scent, and perhaps a suggestion …
Yet I can not repent
That I do not choke
Myself with smoke.
There Was A Young Man From Whitehall
There was a young man from Whitehall
Who said “all empires fall”.
He wore a threadbare suit
And owned only one boot,
But his name I don’t recall.
Sometimes
Sometimes I attempt to shout down the birds
And choose
To lose
Myself in words.
But as a dart
Ere long
Their song
Pierces my heart.
On occasions I try
To escape the owl’s cry
And pretend
There is no end
To meet
And sheet.
But as night falls,
He calls to me.
The Fall
The bird’s call
To man, who’s fall
Brought
Him knowledge. Now caught
Up in his thought
He hears words,
While the birds
Sing,
Welcoming the spring.
“Faith in Spring” by Johann Ludwig Uhland
I spent a pleasant Friday evening with my friend Brian. At one point during the evening Brian mentioned the below poem, “Faith in Spring”, by Johann Ludwig Uhland (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludwig_Uhland). I must confess to having no German, nor had I heard of the poet who’s poem is reproduced below:
Die linden Lüfte sind erwacht,
Sie säuseln und wehen Tag und Nacht,
Sie schaffen an allen Enden.
O frischer Duft, o neuer Klang!
Nun, armes Herze, sei nicht bang!
Nun muß sich alles, alles wenden.
Die Welt wird schöner mit jedem Tag,
Man weiß nicht, was noch werden mag,
Das Blühen will nicht enden.
Es blüht das fernste, tiefste Tal:
Nun, armes Herz, vergiß der Qual!
Nun muß sich alles, alles wenden.
Faith In Spring
The gentle winds are awakened,
They murmur and waft day and night,
They create in every corner.
Oh fresh scent, oh new sound!
Now, poor dear, fear not!
Now everything, everything must change.
The world becomes more beautiful with each day,
One does not know what may yet happen,
The blooming doesn’t want to end.
The farthest, deepest valley blooms:
Now, poor dear, forget the pain!
Now everything, everything must change.
There Was A Young Man Called Matt
There was a young man called Matt
Who kept an enormous rat.
It caused the girls to scream,
But some say I dream,
And it was, in fact a cat!
A review of my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind And Other Poems”
I am grateful to Annette Rochelle Aben, for writing the below honest review of my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”, in exchange for a free electronic copy of the book:
28 March 2017
My review for “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems” by Kevin Morris
If you have yet to find yourself lost in a book of poetry by English poet, Kevin Morris, then lose yourself in My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems. Allow yourself to wander through the changing seasons, to experience the magic of limericks, and to be entertained by the musings of a man who sees this world through different eyes.
You’ll learn about girls with unsuitable shoes, what having dinner with Dracula might be like and wonder if a garden log might be an alligator or perhaps a crocodile. Be thought provoked, by a magpie and perhaps find yourself shaking your head in agreement with the last line of Kevin’s Melting Ice. “and now the call, of the bird, goes unheard, by those drunk on their own words.”
For Kevin Morris, another notch on the belt of his writing career. For us, the readers, yet another opportunity to experience the world through the poetic eyes of a multi-faceted English poet. My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems belongs in your collection.
Date Night
The black girl talks in a loud voice.
The white man drinks
And thinks
On choice.
The wine is okay.
He knows she will stay
For a while
With her fixed smile.
They chat
About this and that.
“Have you dated white guys before?”
He asks opening the bedroom door.
Coin
She was hot as the weather
As hell for leather,
They rolled in the heather
With the chink of coin
To join
Them together.
K Morris - Poet 