Me reading my poem ‘Sandwich Wrapper’.
K Morris reading his poem ‘Sandwich Wrapper’.
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: poetry
K Morris reading his poem ‘Apart’
Me reading my poem ‘Apart’.
When Young
When young
His blood was hot.
He flung
Himself into expense
And many a wench
Did smile
A crocodile smile
As with each python hug
He dug
His own trench.
As he grew older, his blood cooled somewhat
Though heaven knows
That passion hot
Still arose
From time to time
And manifested itself in
What some call sin …
Though to rhyme
Is no crime …
I Find It Strange
I find it strange when those who have more than me
Defend Marx’s ideology,
While I, who am admittedly possessed of a sufficiency
Argue for a free society
I Am For An English Libertie
I am for
An English libertie
Wherein,
When I close my door,
I am free
To sin
(Whatever sin may be).
I am for
An English libertie
Where the law
Protects person and propertie
And the weak
Who can not for themselves speak.
I am for
An English libertie
Where people who’s views I dislike
Can sleep easy at night
And they extend the same courtesie
To me.
I am for
An English libertie
Where students can not ban those with whom they disagree
From campus under “no platform”, for that is not free
Speech, and I still
Cling to Mill.
“There is no uniquely English libertie”,
Some will say,
But I shall continue, in my contrarian way
To maintain that we
English are still
More or less free
(Though beware the authoritarian chill
That may our libertie kill).
Silence
Silence enfolds,
Holds
Me.
In her soothing arms.
How well I know her charms.
I abhore
The crowd’s inane roar
Where those who shout loudest are too often heard
And the liar’s honeyed word
Is sweet
In the ears of those who long to eat.
The crowd will crucify
Those who are found to lie.
But tis a truth most drear
That tis the lie they long to hear.
The multitude hate
The silence for it makes them think,
So turn to drink
And prate
Of matters they only half comprehend.
I shall defend
The freedom of silence
Against the violence
Of the crowd who sway
First this way
Then that.
I shall stand aloof
From the man in the bowler hat
(and he who wears the cloth cap),
And hap
I shall find truth
For the crowd’s roar
Can not penetrate my front door.
The Tape
I can not escape
This constant tape
Running in my head.
When I am dead
The words said
Will go
I know
Not where,
Other than those
That from paper stare
At my readers from the printed page.
I shall be beyond rage
Or any other emotion,
Lost in a great ocean
Of what?
Shall I know it not?
Methinks
The tape will, finally, stop
Apart
I stood apart
My heart
Full of the organ’s sound.
Looking around
He asked “do you want to play?”
“No, just came to listen today”,
I replied.
Then, the music died
And I, (who stood apart
And knowing not where to start
Went my way).
“Doctor Foster” Reinterpreted
I have played around, (purely for my own amusement), with the English nursery rhyme “Doctor Foster”. The first rendering is the traditional rendering, followed by my reinterpretations:
Doctor Foster went to
Gloucester,
In a shower of rain;
He stepped in a puddle,
Right up to his middle,
And never went there again.
—
Doctor Foster went to
Gloucester,
In a shower of rain;
He got in a muddle,
When he fell in a puddle,
And never went there again.
—
Doctor Foster went to
Gloucester,
In a shower of rain;
He indulged in a cuddle,
In the midst of a puddle,
With a lady whose name was Jane.
—
Doctor Foster went to
Gloucester,
In a shower of rain;
He stepped in a puddle,
Which did befuddle
His poor overtaxed brain.
Nails
Women of a certain profession
Draw up at nail bars
In their boyfriend’s fast cars.
While priests hear the confession
Of those impaled
On nails.
K Morris - Poet 