I was honoured to be interviewed by Annette, on Blogtalkradio, regarding my poetry and other meanderings.
The show also includes me reading several of my poems.
A big thank you to Annette for interviewing me!
Kevin
The thing he can not express
The dress
That never was
Because …
Words he can not speak
Leave him weak.
Should he seek
For answers from the Mother Superior
Or her inferior?
The inferior speaks the truth.
Does the roof
Then fall in
Exposing Mother Superior’s sin?
Oh how frail
Is the veil
Separating heaven from hell, and how easy to expose
The fact that the emperor has no clothes …
It is said that one may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. However, there being neither sheep nor lambs in the field, Tom stole the farmer’s prize cow instead.
They found Tom (or what had once constituted him) in a bloody mess in the field. Having forgotten his glasses and being extremely short sighted, he had mistook a very ill tempered bull for a mild mannered cow.
“Look on the bright side” said Mick Carmichael, down the Fox and Hounds later that evening.
“What bright side? Poor bloke was gored to death”! said Charlie Dunn.
“Well it just goes to prove what I always say – that one shouldn’t put any faith in those old sayings, as Tom wasn’t hanged for either a sheep or a lamb, but ended his days on the horns of farmer Robert’s prize bull …”! replied Mick Carmichael.
The sun comes and goes on a cold Autumn day
And I think on fun and how quickly it passeth away.
The flower that bloomed
Is soon entombed,
Or if it blooms still
A rill
Of tears
Marks it’s all too tender years.
Candy Korman, of Candy’s Monsters is running a poetry competition. The competition closes at the end of October. anyone interested in entering can either post their entry in the comments section or email Candy directly. All entries must have a monster theme. For details of the competition please see http://www.candysmonsters.com/poetry-me/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+CandysMonsters+%28Candy%27s+Monsters%29
Book description:
“It’s October 14th 1066, and King Harold’s Saxon army is about to go in to battle against Duke William’s invading Norman army. Among the ranks of the Saxons are two boys who shouldn’t be there: Eadweard, and his best friend, Cerdic.
Daydreams of becoming great war heroes had the boys convinced to disobey their Fathers and go to war, despite the possibility of punishment if they were caught. Now it’s time for the battle to begin, and Eadweard is starting to wish he’d stayed home after all. But it’s too late to turn back now, and Eadweard finds himself witnessing the events of the battle that would later be called The Battle Of Hastings, and learning how different from his imaginings the reality of war actually is.
*Note: This is a work of fiction, which is based on actual events. It tells the story of the battle between King Harold’s Saxon army and Duke William’s Norman army, which took place a short distance away from the town of Hastings on October 14th 1066, in a place now known simply as Battle. Though this is a children’s story, the recommended reading age for this book is eight years and over, since it is a story that takes place on a battlefield, and therefore contains scenes of violence that are not suitable for younger, or more sensitive, readers.”
There was a young man called Judd
Who married a girl called Rudd.
They where happy together
In all kinds of weather
And particularly relished the mudd!
Wrap
music. Crack,
Discordant sound.
Young men who think they have something profound
To express
Impress
Girls near cracking point.
Lyrics disjoint.
I don’t see the point
But then I am from the right side of the street
And do not meet
Those who make up for what they lack
With Crack.
Hard men
Go down when
Those with faster toys
Mow down boys.
A crack
And all goes black
For one who once did wrap.
I am of a certain background
And have nothing profound
To say
As I overhear a girl who does wrap
Along
To the song
Of Crack.
2 Cars in search of a crash
Jump red lights
On nights,
When black ice
Holds the heart in a vice-like grip.
Girls trip
By
On heels to high
For walking.
Tongues are talking,
“They are prisoners of their own making”.
Much head shaking.
Vehicles collide and slide
Down the embankment towards the river of unmindfulness
Where those who drink
Into forgetfulness sink
And remember not
That it is their lot
To constantly pay
the ferryman Who carries their soul away.
It catches up with you, in the end,
Although its easy to pretend
That the late nights
And fights
With an unknown friend
Under the sheet
Will not defeat
Roistering youth.
The truth
Oft creeps
Up on a man as he sleeps.
Or when, on seeing nature’s beauty he weeps
Over something irredeemably lost,
And counts the cost for a while,
Then with a weary smile
Returns to the merry-go-round
Which will spin him round, and round and round
K Morris - Poet 