A serpent with a smooth tongue
Did feel
The heel
Of a girl’s shoe
As through
The grass
It slithered.
The girl quivered
But knew not she had been stung
By one who lives among
Rakes in suits
Who’s boots
Will trample a maiden’s heart.
She had not the art
To comprehend
The depths to which man will descend
Nor how he does attain his fell ends.
Yesterday evening I went out for a drink with an old friend. As always in these situations I had with me my guide dog Trigger. On my friend going to the bar to get some much needed liquid refreshment, a gentleman on the table adjacent to mine said words to the effect of,
“Can I feed your dog?”
“No thank you, he gets two meals a day and feeding him encourages begging”, I replied.
“But he’s hungry”, came the response.
“He’s always hungry, that is the nature of dogs”, I said starting to feel exasperated.
“He’s obviously hungry”, my new acquaintance persisted.
At this point my friend returned with the drinks and the conversation with the man on the adjacent table ceased and, shortly afterwards he and his companions left.
While the above incident certainly didn’t spoil my enjoyment of the evening, I was left with a feeling of exasperation as regards self-appointed experts who, in point of fact have absolutely zero knowledge on the subjects they pontificate on. I follow the advice of the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association (GDBA) in providing my dog, Trigger with 2 meals a day, together with dog treats on a controlled basis. Trigger is a lab/retriever cross and as anyone who owns or has owned this breed will know they do have a tendency to behave like walking dustbins. One can give a lab a generous helping of food and a minute later he will be looking for more, its just the nature of labs!
This morning Trigger had a severe attack of the runs which now (thankfully) seem to have cleared up. While I have no way of knowing it seems rather a coincidence that this should happen the morning after a fellow pub goer implied Trigger is underfed. I cant help wondering if something wholly inappropriate as regards dog food found it’s way into the stomach of my four legged friend. Be that as it may, I should not be subjected to the no doubt well meaning but wholly ill informed comments of self-appointed experts.
(For a helpful post on how to approach a guide dog please see, http://www.guidedogs.org.uk/microsites/sponsor-a-puppy/blogs/2015/april/ever-wondered-how-to-approach-a-guide-dog-and-their-owner#.V1LTIL5MTIU).
Kevin
Carpet by heels worn.
Man’s heart torn
Asunder
By blades that plunder
His nightly slumber.
To and fro
The dancers go.
Ever changing,
Exchanging
Well worn words.
Love my friend, is for the birds …
The Poetry Book Society (PBS), founded by poet T. S. Eliot is to close following the withdrawal of Arts Council funding. For the Guardian article please visit (https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jun/03/cuts-hit-poetry-book-society-to-close).
Scent on a pillow fades.
In woodland glades
The willow
Weeps
As dusk creeps
Over the land.
The sand
Where lover’s feet Trod
Is printless now.
Oh see how
The grassy sod
Forms a bed
Where the dead
Sleep
And those that loved once, no longer weep.
Are we just our geans
Means
To a meaningless conclusion,
A confusion of arms, legs and bed?
The head
Is often overruled
By the fool
Lust.
Into eternity we thrust
Desperately hoping to leave one of our kind
Behind
Ere our dalliance ends in dust.
I will be attending the Y-Tuesday poetry reading event on Tuesday 7 June, at 7:45 pm where I will be reading some of my poetry. If you are in the vicinity please do pop in to hear me and other poets reading our work. For details of Y-Tuesday events please visit (https://www.facebook.com/ytuesday.poetry).
Kevin
Is it better to be a contented pig
And dig
In the mire,
Or a rich man who’s every desire
Is met
And yet
Each new toy
Brings but a fleeting joy?
Or is it preferable to be a philosopher who thinks
And ever further sinks
Into a slough of Despond?
How should one respond
To such a question, other than to interrogate the mind
For an answer it is impossible to find?
—
The above was prompted by this post, (https://alittledaydreamer.com/2016/05/30/do-we-need-the-answers-to-everything/)
A fascinating piece in “The Guardian” regarding the Future Libraries Project, where authors submit a manuscript which is securely stored and only read in 100 years from now (2114). The ceremony for handing over manuscripts takes place in a Norwegian forest who’s trees will be cut down in 100 years time to make paper on which the books submitted to the project will be printed. The latest author to hand over his manuscript is David Mitchell.
For the article please visit https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/may/30/david-mitchell-buries-latest-manuscript-for-a-hundred-years
The wind blows today.
It will go away
In time leaving me refreshed,
Yet my soul can not for long rest.
Children lark about
And shout.
I doubt
My brain
Which runs like an express train
Will
For long be still.
Listening to the leaves
I perceive
A need to write.
There is delight, in the wind chimes which on occasion sound,
Speaking of things more profound
Than I who am tied to this shifting ground.
The wind has dropped now
And I wonder how
My poem will be understood
By those who would
Try
To find meaning in words that erratically fly,
From one who sits listening to a barking dog, who cares not
A jot
For what
I have to say
On this sunny, wind swept day.
K Morris - Poet 