‘Tis true
The sun
Will still run
Through heaven, when all is said and done
And the birds Will
Continue to trill
As morning doth break
On a brave act, or a profound mistake …
When Morning Breaks
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Tag Archives: poems
An Englishman’s Home is his Castle
“A man’s home is his castle, where freedom does reign.
I maintain
he may do as he will,
Provided of course
That he does no ill …
A gentleman may entertain
Whom he pleases
Though the Gorgon seizes
Every chance
To kill romance
And the stain
Of disipation
Shocks the nation
Who read of vicars capers
In papers.
Sometimes I swear
There is no real news out there …”.
A Review of my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”
Many thanks to Zainab Sheik for taking the time to read and review my collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”. You can find her review here, https://abibliophilesobsession.wordpress.com/2016/06/12/review-lost-in-the-labyrinth-of-my-mind-by-k-morris/.
Kevin
Pangloss
I heard a sigh
And saw two ghosts who did lie
In a bed
Where the living dead
Meet.
“Your feet
Are cold”
She said.
He answered not for thoughts of misspent gold
Filled his sorrowing head.
“I dread being alone”
He did remark.
“The choice is not so stark
For there is always the telephone
And all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds
With Pangloss and party girls …”.
No Alarm
Reaching for the alarm that wakes
He takes
A step into the unknown.
Breakfast will, he thinks, Be followed by leaving home
For work.
No sudden jerk
Of fear,
Just the passing thought, death is always near
And one day all will
Be still
I will be reading at the Poetry Cafe this evening (Tuesday 7 June)
I had intended to read at the Y-Tuesday poetry event this evening (Tuesday 7 June), however, due to the event having been cancelled, I will be reading at the Poetry Café, 22 Betterton Street, Covent Garden, London. The Poetry Unplugged event runs from 7:30 until 10:30, with poets signing up to read between 6-7 pm. If you do come along please do say hello.
Kevin
Poetry Isnt Real
“Poetry isn’t real” you said.
I shook my head
For what the poet feels
Is real.
The words in the poet’s brain,
His whole train
Of thought
Is caught
And given life upon the page.
His poems may forever dance
And bring romance
To the paper stage.
A poem can make one laugh or cry.
So why
Can you not try
To lift your eyes from the ground,
And gaze upon something profound?
Unrequited
Looking back, I remember the owl did hoot.
What is the route
To a girl’s heart?
Where to start?
The park
Was dark.
You and I talked as we walked
Back to the hall.
I recall
You remarked on the romance of the owl’s cry
But try
As I might
The night
Ended in tea
And me
Alone
At home.
Puppets
The puppets on a string
Swing
This way and that
In accordance with the command of the fat
Puppateer.
Far and near
They dance.
Circumstance
Dictates he has control
Of the whole
Play.
The ringmaster may pay
To have his way
Tomorrow and today,
But, heres the thing
should the string
Break, will the puppets stay?
“The Oak” by Dawn D
Thank you to Dawn D for kind permission to reproduce her poem, “The Oak”. The below is copyright and may not be reproduced without the explicit permission of Dawn D. Dawn’s blog is currently private. You can, however contact Dawn to request access.
The Oak
Die Eiche
Ich bin die Eiche.
Ich bin das Eichhörnchen, ich bin der Vogel, die in dieser Eiche leben.
Ich bin die Frau, die unter dieser Eiche vergewaltigt wurde.
Ich bin der Mann, der ab dieser Eiche gehängt wurde.
Ich bin der Wind, der durch die Blätter dieser Eiche fließt.
Es gibt keine Zeit, nur Ewigkeit.
Ich bin frei, ich bin stark. Ich bin Ich!
The oak
I am the oak.
I am the squirrel, I am the bird, that live in that oak.
I am the woman who got raped under that oak.
I am the man who got hung from that oak.
I am the wind that flows through the leaves of that oak.
There is no time, only eternity.
I am free, I am strong. I am Me!
(For the original post please visit, https://dawnsnight.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/poetry-2/).
K Morris - Poet 