I met a mermaid
Who said “be
Not staid,
But come play with me
In yonder raging sea.
We will go
With the flow.
Do not say
No,
For you may have your way
With me
In yonder raging sea”.
So
I went with the flow
And both mermaid and me
Made free,
And drowned in that sea.
To celebrate the recent release of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, as an audio download, from Audible, I am offering 2 free copies to audible.com listeners. (I will be running a similar offer for audible.co.uk listeners later this month).
The first 2 people to email me at newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, will receive a promotion code enabling them to download “My Old Clock I Wind” FREE from audible.com. (Please note, as previously stated, the code will only work on audible.com).
When emailing please put “Competition to win an audio download” in the subject line.
The promotion codes (together with details of how to use them) will be sent to the first 2 people who email me.
The winners will be under no obligation whatsoever to review “My Old Clock”. An honest review would, however be very much appreciated.
To find out more about “My Old Clock please visit, https://www.audible.com/pd/Drama-Poetry/My-Old-Clock-I-Wind-and-Other-Poems-Audiobook/B077VS5CTN/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1512505653sr=1-1.
There was a young man named Matt
Who swallowed a very large cat.
He thought it was hake,
Which was a mistake.
I really don’t understand that!
I am pleased to announce that my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems” is now available, as an audio download from audible.co.uk and audible.com.
“My Old Clock I Wind” derives its title from the clock which sits, in pride of place, on the bookcase in my living room. The title poem reads as follows:
“My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop with my hand;
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone”.
About The Author
I was born in Liverpool in 1969, a year best known of course for my birth. Well no, actually it is better known for the moon landings which certain peculiar conspiracy theorists still maintain never took place (the moon landings that is, not my birth!).
It was from my grandfather that I derived my first love of literature and I have many happy memories of him reading to me. As I grew older I learned to read Braille which opened up the world of independent reading and I still remember how amazing it was to me, as a young boy, to be able to sit with a book on my knee reading for myself.
I attended school in Liverpool and later went on to read history and politics at university. Having obtained my BA, I went on to gain an MA in political theory.
Since 1994 I have lived and worked in London. I find that I cannot write with background noise, other than the singing of birds, and am lucky that my home overlooks a large garden and an historic park in Crystal Palace, famed for it’s steep hills and fresh air.
Where to buy “My Old Clock I Wind”
Audible (UK) – https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Arts-Entertainment/My-Old-Clock-I-Wind-and-Other-Poems-Audiobook/B077VYT3X6/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1512505394&sr=1-1
Audible.com – https://www.audible.com/pd/Drama-Poetry/My-Old-Clock-I-Wind-and-Other-Poems-Audiobook/B077VS5CTN/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1512505653&sr=1-1
Amazon (US) – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG
Amazon (UK) – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0735JBVBG
Moyhill Publishing – http://moyhill.com/clock/
The royal National Institute of Blind People (braille edition) – http://shop.rnib.org.uk/ or call 0303 123 9999, quoting order number 25870603.
A young private named Maude
Slipped and fell on his sword.
His corporal, named Ted
Said “you should be dead.
But that sword is made of cardboard!”
In my wardrobe hang clothes
But heaven knows
There are skeletons too.
What about you
My friend,
Will you pretend
That your wardrobe is bare
Of skeletons, and only clothes hang there?
A man is many things
To family, colleagues and friends.
Different he may be
In his relations with each, but he
Comprehends
The ends
He pursues.
Or perchance he does choose
To deny
What he is, even to himself
And will die
With a smile
Of denial
Upon his face
Expecting grace …
Do those who drink of Lethe
Find surcease
From pain?
Or do they wrack their brain
In a vain
Attempt to regain
What is forever, lost?
O to be free of regret
And forever forget
A life ill spent.
But what cost
To drink
Of Lethe and no more think,
But merely to do
As like some automaton
We wander through
Hades
Where memory fades
And days are as one.
The departed are gone
But know it not, or perhaps they do
As tears may break through
When half remembered years
Enter the head
Of the living dead.
All men meet the ferryman, but not all fear
The guide
Who carries us to the other side.
It is Lethe drear
That inspires most dread.
The Greeks said
That the ferryman comes before we quench our thirst
In Lethe’s waters.
But no, ‘Tis not always so
For sons and daughters are left behind
When loved ones find
The river where memory fractures, before the body dies.
There once was a king named Canute
Who continued to play the flute
As the sea it rose
And covered his nose,
That foolish old king named Canute!
There was a young man named Neil
Who said “I know how you feel”.
I said “you don’t know me
So how can that be?
You Presumptuous young man named Neil!”
K Morris - Poet 