Familiarity makes the unbearable so-so.
Music from a phone playing.
Exploring hands.
Acrobatics in the bedroom.
The brook, once babbling is choked with weeds.
Diseased trees.
Fat brown paper envelope.
Shopping is the new religion.
You choke on your cornflakes over stories of vicars and hoares,
And when the death sentence is imposed you give loud applause.
When they call for moral regeneration your first in the queue,
Oh my friend what if they knew what you do.
Behind closed doors the lamplight is low,
To the girl, barely legal, you are “Mr So and So”.
When the deed’s done homewards you go,
To the wife, and the kids – fine, upstanding Mr So and So.
He collected dolls both black and white.
Twas his pain and his delight,
To hold them tight at night.
Few words where said,
As they lay upon his bed
With eyes cold and dead.
He touched their skin so real,
Though love they could not feel.
One doll his heart did steal,
But her passion was unreal.
His soul it turned to steel,
No longer could he feel.
Doors close on innocence that knows
A girl in her short summer dress.
Does she suspect?
A budding rose.
Men traverse long dark roads
Oh Microsoft I love you.
I love the way you say in tones sweet
“document 1. Microsoft Word is not responding”.
I relish the opportunity you furnish for me to drink my tea while you hang with such grace and poise.
For the chance to eat my cereal while you continue to stick obstinately I give thanks.
I was in need of a shower so thanks, once more for affording me the opportunity to wash and dress as you continue to hang.
Thank you dear Microsoft for, finally allowing me to complete my poem which runs to an entire 4 lines.
Yours ever so gratefully,
A Humble Computer User.
(The above was written in response to the difficulties experienced while writing my poem, “Epitaph On A Poet” which appeared on this blog earlier today).
A book of poems upon his grave
Could not the poet save.
The few his words touched
Failed to keep him from the dust.
If one is interested in record breaking, I can see the point of the below exercise. However if the aim is to truly comprehend and, dare one say it, actually enjoy reading, then reading a book in 25 minutes becomes a wholly sterile occupation, (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/books/article-3168948/How-read-novel-25-minutes-remember-plot.html).
Kevin
The wind she whispered in the trees.
Her voice I heard, but did not heed.
Now my sorrow is sighing with the breeze.
Many thanks to Maja of The Thoughts And Life Of Me (http://thethoughtsandlifeofme.com/author/masgautsen/) for the below guest post. I have always wished to visit Ireland and Maja’s article rekindles in me the desire to do so.
Kevin
Dublins Writers Museum
I was over the moon when one of my favourite bloggers asked me if I wanted to do a guest post on his blog. Then I realised I had to both come up with something to write about and then I have to actually write it (what have I gotten myself into?). I ended up deciding to give a recommendation for a great place to visit if you are a fan of literature.
Ireland’s Capital Dublin is one of my favourite cities. I’ve been there quite a few times both as a regular tourist and to go over to visit friends and family. Some of whom think I should get a job with their tourist board seeing as it never rains when I’m there so I might be a little biased. As a tourist there are loads to do and see. Dublin has the nicest pubs, the Guinness Museum, the Jameson Distillery, if you decide to do a hop-on-hop-off tour of the city you’ll get to ride through a city that has a lot of literary history.
Right off O’Connell Street, the main shopping street in Dublin on 18 Parnell Square North is the Dublin Writers Museum. It’s inside a lovely Gregorian house. The moment you get in there you are hit with an atmosphere at all the literary genius that the museum presents to you and the artifacts they have collected since opening in 1991.
360 degree view of the gallery
I plugged in the headphones I was given when I got in the door and I immediately entered the magical world of the Irish writers. You wander through the history, life and works of Irish writers like Keats, Yeats, Beckett, Stoker, Joyce, Swift, Wilde, Doyle and many many more. They truly have a wonderful collection of different artifacts from the different writers and the voice-over gives you a lot of information about the writers and the times they lived and did their writing in. The collection of artifacts are mainly downstairs, and here there is also a little cafe. Upstairs there is a wonderful room filled up with shelves of books and a lovely gallery where they sometimes hosts literary events.
I want to end my post not only urging you to visit this lovely little gem of a museum if you should find yourself in Dublin with some time on your hands, but also with a poem that never stops striking a nerve with me:
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams
-William Butler Yeats
Source: http://www.dublintourist.com/details/dublin-writers-museum.shtml, http://www.visitdublin.com/dublin-a-to-z/details/dublin-writers-museum/31258/#53.354366|-6.263985|16, http://ireland-calling.com/he-wishes-for-the-cloths-of-heaven/
On returning to London on 13 July, one of the first letters I opened was a document from the British Library’s Legal Deposit archive acknowledging receipt of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry and Prose”. As explained in my post of 15 May 2015 (http://newauthoronline.com/2015/05/15/legal-deposit-what-is-it-and-are-you-covered/), since 1662 legislation has required that a copy of every print book published in the UK be deposited in the British Library thereby ensuring the preservation of the written word for future generations. In 2013 this requirement was extended to electronic publications in the UK. Its good to know that in some small way I have contributed to the cultural heritage of these islands (he said smiling modestly)!
K Morris - Poet 