There was a young lady called Gale
Who lived in a place named Hale.
She had a brother, Sid
And the things they did,
Made the vicar quail!
There Was A Young Lady Called Gale
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Tag Archives: poetry
Book Launch for “My Old Clock I Wind” by Kevin Morris
During my interview with Ariadne Sawyer, of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s the World Poetry Reading Series, on 4 May, (http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=11765), I was asked about my plans as regards my forthcoming collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind And Other Poems”. Ariadne’s question prompted me to get my skates on, as it brought home the fact that I had given little thought to the idea of a physical (real world) launch of “My Old Clock”.
I am planning a book launch in late June. The launch will take place in the function room of my favourite local pub, The Railway bell, (http://www.rampubcompany.co.uk/visit-pubs/railway-bell).
The pub is within easy reach of rail and bus connections, it being approximately 25 minutes from London Victoria to Gipsy Hill or Crystal Palace stations.
I will, of course post further details once the arrangements are confirmed. If you have any queries in the meantime, please contact me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com. (The address is rendered in this manner to defeat spam).
Mermaid and Merman
“Our love is deep as the sea,
And There is such depth to you and me.
We go so far down,
We will in passion drown”,
(the mermaid said,
As she wriggled her toes,
On the ocean’s bed).
“Poseidon knows,
How the tide comes and goes,
My pretty rose”,
(I said,
With a shake of my head,
As I departed our briny bed).
The Magic Order
Once grown
We are thrown
Out of that magic place
Where the fairy’s face
Is by children seen.
The fairy queen
We may perceive
From afar,
Yet we must remember who we are
As it does grieve
Her when an adult crosses the border,
And disturbs the sacred order
—
Children should be allowed to be children, and not forced to grow up before their time.
There Was A Young Lady Called Lott
There was a young lady called Lott
Who, feeling rather hot,
Decided to sunbathe in the nude.
Some thought her extremely rude,
But the photographer did not
Man’s Distain
I remember when the rain
Did maintain
A more or less steady beat.
Now my feet
Can not a puddle
Find, for nature is in a muddle.
And man’s distain
Will not conjure the rain.
There Was A Young Poet Called Keith
There was a young poet called Keith
Who’s works where extremely brief.
Each poem consisted of only one word ,
(which was rather absurd),
And he lived in a place called Dalkeith.
Stillettos
Stillettos
Impure
Alure.
Passion’s
Empty
Core
Sleep
Waking early,
And being unable to return to the land of slumber,
Idly I wonder
About our need for sleep,
For we can not pretend
That he will not take us all in the end.
Echo
In the rocks, Echo does reside.
We take pride
In her speech
For she doth preach
As we do.
Through
Her voice
We know the only possible choice
For it is that of our brothers
(Echo’s lovers),
Who
Understand the one true
Way,
For they
Echo every word we say
K Morris - Poet 