A young woman sings quietly.
What has been done can not be undone, yet her song continues, words floating on the crisp morning air.
Barely out of girlhood, she sings the song of a man who beats women, her mind filled with dreams of street gangs, “power flows from the barrel of a gun”.
What has been done can not be undone.
Just a girl, late teens, heading somewhere, singing.
I was delighted to receive the following 5 star review of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection of Poetry and Prose”:
“I have read this collection through twice. I admire those who can generate power through brevity to create a visceral reaction with their words. This is
a prime example. Well worth the read”.
Many thanks to the reviewer for their review of “Dalliance”. For the review please visit, (http://www.amazon.com/review/ROLK123LJN8N7/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00QQVJC7E).
Afterwards, your back turned,
Me spurned.
Your breathing soft,
Me forgot.
Delight is past.
The hours stretch dark and vast.
I pray for the morning to come at last.
On checking my Amazon author page today, I was delighted to see that my book, “Dalliance; A Collection of Poetry and Prose has received the following 5 star review:
“The book contains an interesting collection of poems, short stories and one essay and I found Dalliance a very pleasant surprise. It’s a sometimes entertaining,
sometimes thoughtful, at other moments heartfelt, but never boring read.
The short pieces touch familiar subjects like love or the seasons and others are also quite unusual. There’s a poem dedicated to a withheld number phone
call, which woke the author in the small hours, or one, where he wonders, why we hang photos of dophins on the wall, the animal forever caught there in
one endless wave and swim.
The short stories (there are some swear words, so beware, if that isn’t your cup of tea) are again an interesting mix of a man having an affair or a girl
being scared on the way home after a fight with her boyfriend, when someone follows her down a dark alleyway.
My favourite poems are Dark Angel, which has an unexpected twist at the end and the one where the porcelian cup breaks, where a small occurrence leads
carefully to a philosophical reflection of life’s circle interspersed with the right amount of humour.
There’s something else, which makes this collection unique and special, the author, K. Morris, is blind, and therefore he can pick up on small things,
for which I am too blinded by my eyes to see”.
Many thanks to the reviewer for the above review which can be found here, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R3OOOF1ICYPFC0/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00QQVJC7E).
Kevin
Many thanks to Laura A Lord for the below guest post. I have pre-ordered Laura’s latest book, “Of Roots And Wreckage” and look forward to reading it on it’s release in June 2015. For Laura’s website please visit, (http://lauraalord.com/).
GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA
Laura A. Lord is the author of numerous collections of vignettes and poetry and one awesome children’s book about a T-Rex screwing up her entire day. It’s absolutely a true story.
Laura’s work has been featured in The Beacon, The Collegian, Whirl with Words, Tipsy Lit, Precipice, Scary Mommy, The Powder Room, The Reverie Journal, and Massacre Magazine.
Her newest collection, Of Roots and Wreckage, focuses heavily on where she grew up. Split into three sections, this collection explores the ideas of “roots” and hometowns, of people and change, of aging and death.
Want to win a free copy of Laura’s Of Roots and Wreckage?
Enter Laura’s Goodread’s Giveaway Here!
Here is a selection from Of Roots and Wreckage:
Summerfest
Summer’s heat made a hazy
playground visage of the street –
lightening muted colors
from the limp rag plastic signs.
Dead breeze.
Fried grease.
The gum stuck to the bottom of
my shoe and snaps with
a smack with every step like
it were still stuck between the
plump red lips of that over-dressed
old woman with her small wire
cart and her flamingo pink umbrella,
with her life packed into every square
crevasse of skin mapped out in
the wrinkles of days past
and I am young and stupid here,
with my skirt too short and my flat
belly exposed, so that the bare
expanse of my legs is a railroad
track straight to the heart of the
issue with fourteen year old girls
and their ignorant lust.
The world hangs heavy and wags
a finger in my direction to lure
me over to this place where the cream
has melted into the asphalt and
the balloons are deflated piles
of rubbery mass on the ground and the
gum smacks on my shoe, while
that battle-axe woman,
that ancient grin
with its black toothed gaping maw,
is welcoming me in to this carnival,
this celebration,
of my future scrawl.
© Laura A. Lord 2015
You can find this author and poet in all these wonderful places!
Poet Charles Bukowski’s last poetry reading, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QB6IyLTvB7M&feature=em-subs_digest-vrecs). The event contains much bawdiness interspersed with the odd poem. If you enjoy Bukowski’s work the performance is worth watching, however much of the performance consists of exchanges between Bukowski and the audience, rather than the poet reading his poetry.
Do I employ words as a ruse? Obfuscate my meaning to bemuse? Do I, on occasions amuse? Dear reader, my apologies if I am ever rude!
Me reading my poem ‘Mirror’ which can be found in ‘Dalliance; a collection of poetry and prose’, available in the Amazon Kindle Store: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_t4YD1fAlo
You talk to me of lambs gambling, of ramblers ambling, through fields green, beside meandering streams.
You speak to me of verdant bowers, where lovers while away the hours, in love’s young dream.
I tell you of an urban street, where the gale buffets and people battle to retain their feet.
I impart to you the wind’s loan moan, as I wander home alone, in weather bleak.
Fire burns.
The moth to the flame turns.
Humans can discern. Yet to the pyre we turn.
Will we ever learn?
