Love and lust all end in dust. Standing at the mirror applying makeup, hiding who you are, but who are you anyway? A girl seeking for something beyond your grasp, you trip gaily down the primrose path to destruction. You laugh the sound signifies I no not what.
Me reading my poem, ‘A Suburban Liverpool Street’.
Me reading my poem entitled ‘Boxes’, hope you enjoy!
Me reading my poem, entitled ‘The Pub’. Hope you enjoy!
The sound of the surf, swish, swish as the great waves come and go fills my head. The tide sweeps all before it, the great waves flattening sand castles and all our human works. At first the moat fills with water but the castle still stands grand and tall against the tide’s mighty roar. Slowly walls subside the whole being taken back by the great ocean, returning to whence it came.
Standing on the cliff edge the roar fills my ears. The hypnotic sound of waves breaking and receeding is all that can be heard. The world is drowning being taken back by the great atlantic. All will eventually pass but not quite yet for slowly the tide receeds but tomorrow he will return in all his mighty glory and anger reminding us that we are mere men. Time and tide wait for no man, both keep rolling, humans attempt to run and hide but, eventually all will be brought low like the puny sand castles we built as children.
Slowly I replace the conch shell on the shelf in my living room. The sound of the clock reasserts itself and distant twittering of birds is heard.
Walking in the woods after rain. Damp grass caressing my naked feet, the scents of nature heady and pervasive.
Losing myself in the dark mystery, moving ever closer towards that which can not be expressed.
Time appears to stand motionless. That old gnarled log on which I have so often rested stretches it’s bulk across the leaf strewn path. Once part of something living it now acts as a convenient bench while, imperceptibly it decays returning to what it once was, rich earth which will give rise to new life.
Long before me these trees have stood. I will go and they will remain. I am part of something beyond myself, a living organism in nature’s mysterious plan. Yet I deny this on occasions. Hiding behind my computer’s screen or my head full of noise ear glued to my mobile. All seems paltry as I walk here. The technology with which man surrounds himself is a silly toy. Nature laughs at us. She waits, Man will go but she will remain.
Me reading my poem entitled ‘Rain’. This poem was inspired by me standing by the window you can see in the video, listening to the rain. It is a lovely, sunny Wednesday evening, but the same window, and the same garden, on which the rain fell several weeks ago!
Me reading my poem, ‘Young Lady, Older Man’.
Me reading my poem entitled ‘The Ice Maiden’. I am not telling who the lady in question is!
K Morris - Poet 