In this forest glade
I think on the shade.
All mens desires
For women and empires
Fade.
The shout
Of the brave
Is lost in the grave.
And all fires burn out
In the end,
Be they lover or friend.
In This Forest Glade
2 Replies
Tag Archives: poems
There Was A Young Lady Called Joan
There was a young lady called Joan
Who sat getting drunk on her own.
An old reprobate named Dan
Had a most wicked plan,
But went back home on his own.
The Ship
I knew
A man who
Was so just and true
That when the ship came under attack
He stood back
And said “alas, alack
Poisoning is a terrible thing
Yet I can not bring
Myself to condemn
Particular men
(Although the evidence points that way)
I say
That there must be absolute proof.
So shall I in my allotment dig for truth).
He is digging still
And will
Continue to do so
As men of common sense see the fact
For what it is,
And act!
One Can Choose To Ignore The News
One can choose
To ignore the news,
And put off until tomorrow
The sorrow
And pain.
But what is true
Will break through
Again and again.
There Was A Young Man Called Jo
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I shot him with my bow!
There was a young man called Jo
Who stood upon my toe.
When I cried in pain
He did it again,
So I told him where to go!
Legacy
Some things
Have wings
Of light,
While others fly at night
Their poison carrying down the years,
Provoking bitter tears.
One such has gone
But his legacy lives on
In those who can not wait
To employ their knuckles tattooed with “Hate”.
An intelligent man
Frequently can
Do more harm
Than a stupid one,
For he is possessed of charm
And learning to.
True he has gone
But the bitterness lives on.
The word “fascist” is ugly to me
And I can not agree
With those who would label him so,
Yet I know
That it is possible to stoke
The fire and deplore the thuggish smoke
On which we all choke.
This is not quite fair
As there where
Racists ere
He spoke.
Yet he threw a match
Which did catch
Provoking flame
Blame
And smoke.
My Grandfather
Creosote
On a hot
Day.
I lack the words to say
How the smell
(I know so well)
Carried me away
To where I can not stay,
For he has gone into the forest green
(Which I have seen
Though I can not follow him yet).
I can not forget
Those happy days (now tinged with regret)
For a fence does divide.
Yet he lives inside
My heart
And is forever a part
Of me.
The land I see
Beyond the fence is lush
With tree and bush.
I can not rush
And no not when
I shall see him again.
But see I must
For I am dust
As he
Who loved me.
Enoch Powell Poet
In 1968, the late John Enoch Powell, a member of Edward Heath’s Conservative Shadow Cabinet, delivered what has gone down in history as “The Rivers of Blood” speech. In it Powell argued that non-white immigration into the United Kingdom should be halted and that those immigrants already present should be encouraged to return to their countries of origin. The speech was condemned by Heath and led to Powell being dismissed from the Shadow Cabinet.
The decision of BBC Radio 4 to broadcast the speech in full at 8 PM (UK time) on the evening of 14th April, has provoked much controversy (see, for example https://www.telegraph.co.uk/radio/what-to-listen-to/bbc-radio-4-broadcast-enoch-powells-rivers-blood-speech-first/).
I in no way endorse Powell’s views on race, as can be seen from my poem “Kipling May Regret”, https://scvincent.com/2018/03/26/guest-author-kevin-morris-kipling-may-regret/. However the furore over the impending broadcast reminded me that Powell was (as well as being a politician) a poet of some distinction, http://laudatortemporisacti.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/cheerful-thoughts-from-enoch-powell.html.
We can (and should) separate a man’s views from his literary output. Consequently, while in no way endorsing Powell’s opinions on race, one can appreciate his verse which does, to my mind have echoes of that of A. E. Housman.
Kevin
Glimmer
Dare I?
No
For if I go
Too far …
But oh temptations are … …
Such sweet delights.
Sultry nights
Replete
With perfume
That does pervade my room.
Should I
complete?
Act on my desire?
Know glimmer of answering fire
Therefore
I must adore
From afar,
But underneath that bra …
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glimmer/).
The Gulf Stream
Scientists have stated that further weakening of the Gulf Stream should be avoided at all costs. The weakening of the Gulf Stream could lead to more extreme weather events, including freezing winters (in the UK) and more (and powerful) storms. To read more please visit, https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/apr/13/avoid-at-all-costs-gulf-streams-record-weakening-prompts-warnings-global-warming.
The above article reminds me of my poem “Melting Ice”:
“Under the once-solid ice sheet
We meet
A Demon some persist
In maintaining does not exist.
Deep in his throat, he rumbles;
And humanity stumbles
As yet another ice sheet crumbles”.
(“Melting Ice” can be found in “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”, which is available in the Amazon Kindle store https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG).
K Morris - Poet 