Tag Archives: poems

Hatters and Hares

As day follows day
Inexarably the century ebbs away.
It has already reached seventeen.
Things not yet seen
Glimmer in a dream
Or a nightmare
Where
The mad Hatter and March Hare
Offer to answer Alice’s every prayer.

On the edge of wonderland
We stand.
But beware
The Hatter and the Hare
Who sit at a table
Offering tea which they are unable
To supply,
For this thing called progress is a wapping lie.

Why the Budds Are Sticky In Springtime

As a small boy, I remember my grandfather telling me the below story, as to how the buds come to be sticky in springtime. I always assumed that he took the story from a collection of fairytales. However I have searched high and low and it would appear that he invented the tale to entertain me. However, if anyone does know the origin of the tale please do leave a comment. (I don’t remember the tale word for word so have used poetic license when retelling it).

In spring, a group of naughty gnomes (all unseen)
Did toadstools paint with glue
In order to catch the fairy queen.
‘Tis true
For my grandfather told me how the queen stuck fast
And, at last,
On her escape, she did say
To the gnomes “go your way
For I pardon your crime.
But, come springtime
You
Must paint the budds with your pots of glue.
Every year mind,
Or you shall find
That I am not so kind!”
So every year
Out of fear
Of what the fairy queen would do
Where they to forget,
The gnomes paint the budds with glue
(they are busy yet)!

Kevin Morris reading his poem ‘To my dog Trigger, who lay on my book’.

While drinking in my favourite local pub, The Railway Bell (http://www.rampubcompany.co.uk/visit-pubs/railway-bell), I left my rucksack, which contained a copy of my book ‘Lost in the Labyrinth of my mind’ (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-labyrinth-my-mind-Morris-ebook/dp/B01AF5EPVY) on the floor. My guide dog Trigger made himself comfortable on both book and rucksack, creasing ‘Lost’s pages, which led to the composition of this poem.

The poem can be found in Refractions: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Refractions-K-MORRIS-ebook/dp/B01L5UC2H2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1488112246&sr=1-1&keywords=refractions+k+morris

The Old Squire

The old squire knew he would die.
Heaving a sigh
He beckoned to his wife.
“Come near,
My dear.
The strife
Of life
Will soon be done.
I hear yonder church clock,
Chime.
O how time does run
Away.
Soon death will on this great door knock
And take my soul away.
Pray
One thing I would know
Before I go.
Was it you,
My wife most true
Or my mistress with her ribbons so gay,
Who put poison in my cup today?!”

Kevin’s poetry to be featured on Croydon Radio, on Saturday 25 February, between 4-6 pm

I am pleased to announce that several of my poems are scheduled to be broadcast on Croydon Radio’s Saturday Show, which is presented by Tom Cannon, and airs between 4-6 pm on Saturday 25 February. For further details on the Saturday Show please visit HERE.

For a my previous interview, in which I discussed my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” with Tom, please visit HERE.