The suffocating dark holds me tight,
Locked, in the arms of nightmare through the blackest of nights.
Sweating, unable to arise from my bed,
I lie, black imaginings running through my head.
A ghoul by the bookcase stands,
Intent on dragging me into death’s barren land.
What is that shadow on my bedroom door?
My dressing gown hanging or something more?
No romancing
Nor dancing,
Or lovelorn glancing.
Men advancing
As stallions prancing
Towards nymphs on plinths.
Love, she departed long since
As a frightened deer
which fears to come near,
Like a young fawn
its sense of self barely formed.
A hunter yawns
“You will be mine before dawn”.
Conversation with Kevin Morris about ‘Dalliance’
Thank you to Annis for taking the time to interview me. A version of this article appeared on my employer’s website.
—
Where did your latest collection of poems and other pieces in ‘Dalliance’ come from? What is your inspiration for writing?
I write poems that I publish on my blog. Then I collect and publish them in book form. I’ve published several collections of self-published short stories. ‘Dalliance’ is a collection of poems, vignettes and short stories about the ‘grittier’ side of life. I get inspiration from internet news reports. The inspiration for the poems comes from imagined conversations in my head which have been going on since I was a child – and from nature.
Poets tend to have better senses than the rest of us but your sense of touch and sound is very sharp. I loved your lines about the ‘eternal’ wind : ‘Eternal force blowing forever on ancient peoples and now on me. You care not for civilisation; your gusts of laughter shake the bending trees. You blew before these buildings came. When all is gone, you will remain’.
I also liked lines about the touch of acorns ‘I have always had an affinity with these great trees. I love the smooth feel of the outer shell of the acorn and how it contrasts with the softer seed within’. What is the background to these lines?
I have always been close to nature. I collected acorns with my grandfather. I loved the natural world from the time that I started stocking the nature table at school. I live overlooking a semi-rural park in south London. Bird song has always been special to me, particularly the song of the thrush. I love Hardy’s poem “The Darkling Thrush” as well as Blake, Ernest Dowson, A E Housman and Charles Causley. In my sitting room I hear the animal noises and calls – and I feel the wind on my face.
How do you feel about the shape of a poem, on the page? Often that matters to those with sight, when they see a poem for the first time.
I think there is no ultimate ‘rule’ for the shape of a poem. I believe it is the feeling and meaning of a poem that really counts.
You surprised me a bit by appreciating beauty, say, in women. Does beauty mean a lot when one has sight impairment?
I meant beauty in the essence of a person. The smell of, say, a flower can be beautiful, also the smell of certain trees.
You work in the environmental field fighting climate change. Is that connected to your love of nature?
I would probably say ‘yes’ – writing is part of my feeling for nature.
You have quite a dark view of the modern world and also write about loneliness. You get inside hard issues, such as someone finding out whether they are HIV positive.
I am quite a serious, introspective person even though I have a lot of friends and thoroughly enjoy the pub and humour. I guess I write poems when I am on my own, meditating. I think the world is quite a dark place judging by reports on the internet. Personally, I am fortunate to have a loving family. I have been well treated in the workplace.
You get good 4 and 5 star reviews for your writing, e.g. on Amazon. What do you plan to do next?
I publish new poems on my blog and I read my own and other poetry on You Tube. I would like to do an ‘open mike session’ at The Poetry Society in Betterton Street. However, these take place during the afternoon on workdays, so it is quite difficult to go.
Further information:
Links
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dalliance-collection-poetry-prose-Morris-ebook/dp/B00QQVJC7E
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_Dowson
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._E._Housman
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Causley
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67lcMKnJHPI
Evening.
Lonely men of a certain age.
Heels echo on deserted pavements.
Laughter of young women.
Scent wafts into open windows, perfuming sterile sitting rooms.
Let us watch the sunbeams on the walls
Your hand held fast in mine as evening falls.
The day has been long
Our race it is run
Let us go down with the setting sun
They washed filthy linen in a public place. The people blanched at their disgrace.
Those two hung soiled garments in the town square. The populace sniggered. The couple didn’t care.
They left their unclean washing with the garbage to be taken away. The binman said, “the rubbish can go but your dirty laundry must stay”.
A blackbird, as dark falls, singing in the park. Each note a dagger thrust into my heart.
His voice carried on the darkening air, still he trills without a care.
Oh tis to profound, cease your song lest I drown.
The below poem was inspired by Ernest Dowson’s “Cynara”, (http://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2011/mar/14/non-sum-qualis-cynarae-dowson). I am a huge Dowson admirer. He does, in my view deserve far greater recognition than is generally accorded to him.
Love And Wine By K Morris
The night is fine.
The women divine.
The wine is sweet.
Lovers embrace beneath the sheets.
The morning’s cold.
Good time girls count their gold.
Man contemplates his soul.
Thomas Hardy is not generally known for his humour. However, in his poem “The Ruined Maid” we discern wry amusement. Perhaps there is also the unspoken question as to who is better off
“the ruined maid” or her friend,
“O ‘Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?
And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?” —
“O didn’t you know I’d been ruined?” said she.
— “You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks,
Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks;
And now you’ve gay bracelets and bright feathers three!” —
“Yes: that’s how we dress when we’re ruined,” said she.
— “At home in the barton you said thee’ and thou,’
And thik oon,’ and theäs oon,’ and t’other’; but now
Your talking quite fits ‘ee for high compa-ny!” —
“Some polish is gained with one’s ruin,” said she.
— “Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak
But now I’m bewitched by your delicate cheek,
And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!” —
“We never do work when we’re ruined,” said she.
— “You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream,
And you’d sigh, and you’d sock; but at present you seem
To know not of megrims or melancho-ly!” —
“True. One’s pretty lively when ruined,” said she.
— “I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown,
And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!” —
“My dear — a raw country girl, such as you be,
Cannot quite expect that. You ain’t ruined,” said she.).
K Morris - Poet 