To walk through acorns
On Autumn lawns
While barefoot
Would give me pleasure
In this gentle weather.
But they might shut me up
Where the air
Is replete with bleach
And fluorescent lights
Burn day and night.
I would long for birdsong
And lawns
Littered with acorns.
I should walk barefoot.
I would attract strange looks.
But there would be no hospital ward.
To confine me.
Just the reward
Of autumn grass
Under my feet.
I should go
Before old time defeats
All I am
And see
On 10 August, I published my poetry collection Shadows and Birdsong, which is available in Kindle and paperback. You can find it here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0HDQ9QK3Z/
To listen to me reading one of the poems from Shadows and Birdsong — Caught Up in Thoughts of Work — on TikTok, please click here: https://www.tiktok.com/@kevinmorrispoet/video/7660016517932682518
If you do read Shadows and Birdsong, please consider leaving a review.
At the edge of the churchyard
I pause as a solitary bird sings.
Spring has long gone.
And early Autumn says all ways
End in the churchyard.
The traffic passes.
The heat has passed,
Temporarily.
The rain
Turns the grass
Green again.
Autumn draws near.
Another year
Will come.
But, if I am no longer here
Will it still be so?
Philosophers go
Down rabbit holes.
While I see
The rain
Has brought the greenery
Back again.
And I feel happy,
Temporarily.
I was delighted to receive this 4 star review of my recently released poetry collection Shadows and Birdsong:
“Kevin Morris’s latest poetry collection, Shadows and Birdsong, is a meditation on aging and mortality, familiar territory for readers who have read his previous collections. What sets this collection apart is a refining and deepening of Morris’s craft. The approaches to the transience of life are more varied, the rhyme schemes more sophisticated …”. To read the review on Goodreads please follow this link Elizabeth Gauffreau’s review of Shadows and Birdsong | Goodreads
The weather is good
(According to some).
In the summer wood
Leaves long dead
Brush my greying head.
Autumn will come
And the heat cease.
Yet leaves fall
And I recall
Autumn is yet to come.
In my childhood
I collected conkers and acorns
From leaf-strewn lawns
Today there is little breeze
And the leaves
Fall from trees
Thirsting for drink
And I hope for rain.
It will come,
But what has been done
Can not be undone
He bought
Her smile
And thought
For a while
He had caught
Her heart.
But, at break of day
She slipped away
Leaving her imprint
In ink
I met a young lady named Heart
Who asked me to show her my art.
She was full of desire
And did greatly admire –
And then I showed her my art
There once was a poet named Cecil
Who went to sea in a vessel.
As the boat sank
He penned verses blank.
But they never found them or Cecil!
I have sat on bar stools
As fools
Pontificate in love and hate.
From on high, I
Have judged women and men
Thinking myself superior to them
Yet in the quiet
Of morning time
I rhyme
Of imperfect man
And I who am
As them.
K Morris - Poet 