I met a pretty young maid
Who said, “I’m far from staid!”.
I said, “my violin,
It speaks of sin,
And many a time I’ve played!”.
I Met A Pretty Young Maid
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Tag Archives: Rhyme
My Dog, Who I’ve Named Hegel
My dog, who I’ve named Hegel
Is extremely fond of a bagel.
Whilst my neighbour’s cat, called Marx,
Spends his days chasing fiery sparks,
And discussing dialectical materialism with Hegel!
Looking back at 2019, and a happy new year to you all!
Looking back at 2019, I was delighted and honoured to appear on Vancouver Co-Op Radio’s The World Poetry Reading Series, to discuss (and read from) my “Selected Poems”. You can find a link to my interview here, https://worldpoetry.ca/?p=14784. and my “Selected Poems” is available here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WW8WXPP/ (for the UK), and here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/ (for amazon.com customers).
I was surprised and honoured when, in October, I received a Certificate of Honour, Appreciation and Gratitude from the World Poetry Reading Series, https://kmorrispoet.com/2019/10/24/world-poetry-international-canada-certificate-of-honour-appreciation-and-gratitude-awarded-to-poet-kevin-morris/.
Earlier in 2019, I launched my Instagram, which can be found here, https://www.instagram.com/kmorrispoet/.
May I close by wishing all of my readers a very happy new year. If your 2019 has not been a good one, I do hope that the new year turns out to be much better for you.
Kevin
The Mist
Its a misty day.
Shake my fist,
Though I may,
I can not chase
The mist
Away.
I have kissed,
And forgot the mist
In love and wine,
For a time.
But, on this foggy day,
I know
That, shake my fist
Though I may,
That I shall go
Into the mist,
One misty day.
Magpies Chatter In A Winter Sky
Magpies chatter in a winter sky,
And as I
Traverse this woodland track
I look back
And think on the half-lie
We call progress.
The thoughtful squire,
Sitting by his study fire,
Or on hearing the magpies
chatter,
May have had the same thought as I;
That dreams of utopia,
Shatter,
And turn to distopia
Of the Marxist, or laissez-faire kind.
I would rather the country squire
And the open log fire
Than a society
Where variety
Is spurned, in favour of uniformity.
Or a world where value is defined
By the bottom line,
And nothing is divine.
When A Poem Is Done
I sit in this winter sun
And think how, when a poem is done,
And out there, for the world to see,
That it can not be
Undone by me.
But, perhaps, my readers will never see.
A Young Lady Named White
A young lady named White
Advertises on a certain website,
Offering cream cakes and tea
With a girl called Leigh,
And I’m going round tonight!
There Once Was A Poet Named Mitch
There once was a poet named Mitch
Who said, “I’m incredibly rich!”.
His friend Guy
Liked to lie,
But he was nowhere as bad as Mitch!
A Budding Poet, Named Lee
A budding poet named Lee
Composes lots of dark poetry.
He swears that its there
But, without the light’s glare,
Its far to dark to see!
Whilst Drinking Beer
Whilst drinking beer
I think on the queer
Ways in which men choose
To lose
Their cash.
Some, in a moment rash
To the cassino go
And stake, what they have not got,
On fortune’s wheel,
And complain of a rraw deal
When they lose all.
Others for a callgirl fall.
Her kisses are divine
And the wine
To. but, between me and you
The company
Isn’t free,
And its no surprise
That the smile, in her eyes
Fades away
When he can no longer pay.
And, when the debt collector is at the door
The cassino
And the pretty whore
Have no
interest in him, anymore.
K Morris - Poet 