I listen dutifully as he speaks of forestry.
A soft breeze whispers in trees
And I am far away where wind plays
Through the forest and through me.
I listen dutifully as he speaks of forestry.
A soft breeze whispers in trees
And I am far away where wind plays
Through the forest and through me.
I recently appeared on the World Poetry Café, which is hosted by Ariadne Sawyer. During my interview, I read several of my own poems. In addition I recited “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn by John Keats.
My segment begins approximately 19 minutes into the podcast. To listen to the show please visit World Poetry Cafe Sept 18 2025 Kevin Morris by VictorSchwartzman | Mixcloud
In addition to listening online, users of Apple products can download the Mixcloud app, which is available in the Apps store, and listen on iPhones, iPads Etc.
My thanks to Robbie Cheadle for interviewing me and reviewing my poetry collection, “Passing Through: Some Thoughts on Life and Death”. To read my interview and Robbie’s review of “Passing Through”, please visit https://writingtoberead.com/2025/09/17/treasuring-poetry-kevin-morris-shares-about-his-book-passing-through-some-thoughts-on-life-and-death-and-a-review-poetry-poetrycommunity-treasuringpoetry/
The wind is an invisible thing.
We see the waving trees
And leaves blown in the breeze.
I hear the wild wind
But him I do not see.
In the early morning
When all is still and quiet
My thoughts run riot.
Then, the silence takes me
To a place
Where no thought exists in me. ,
And I am free
To simply be
Walking through the graveyard in the pouring rain
I do not feel alone
Nor do I regret the wet
For I can feel the heavy rain
While those who sleep beneath the gravestones
Are company for me.
And these old churchyard trees
Thrive in the rain.
There once was a great lover of Latin
Who had a job as a professional assassin.
Whilst reading great Virgil
He became very ill.
That’s what comes of reading too much Latin!
On a September day
I kicked a stick away.
That branch once danced
In the soft spring air.
Now I, with no care
Kick it along the forest floor
For it will dance no more
And eventually decay
I smile today
But in time will find decay.
Autumn has not yet come.
Yet the sun shines
On dry leaves.
I find in my mind
That Autumn has come
And my leaves
Have Turned to grey.
But I am still here
In this fading year
Though my May
Has long since run away.
We go through birth.
Then, like leaves
We feed the earth.
But before we fall
We enjoy the bird’s call.
Though none can outrun
The setting sun.
When a young lady known as Dawn
Went and swallowed acorns on the lawn,
And they said to her, “dear!
Trees will sprout from your ear!”,
She said, “pardon!”, and swallowed another acorn