I am wrapped around
In the profound
Silence of the morning.
No birds stir.
And my old clock’s
Steady tick tock
Goes unheard.
Earthly clocks measure hours.
But flowers
Know not time
Yet pervade
All our graves.
While we no not
Clocks and flowers.
On Thursday 23rd October, I appeared on the World Poetry Café. During the show, I read several of my own poems, including “On the Death of a Writer”, which appears in my most recent collection, “Passing Through; Some Thoughts on Life and Death”. In addition, I read Philip Larkin’s wonderful poem “Ambulances”.
My thanks to Ariadne, Anita and Victor for hosting me on the World Poetry Café. My segment begins approximately 21 minutes into the podcast. To listen please visit https://www.mixcloud.com/VictorSchwartzman/world-poetry-cafe-oct-23-kevin-morris-and-anita-aguirre-nieveras/?utm_source=notification&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=upload_is_published&utm_content=html
When I met a beautiful young Goth
Who was suffering from a bad cough,
I felt such bliss
When we two kissed.
But that Goth gave me her cough!
I met a vampire on Halloween
Who said, “why don’t you scream!”
I said to Lake,
“Pass me that stake”,
Which caused that vampire to scream!”
I have seen this same old log
Over many years
As I passed by with my dogs.
Years have flown.
I have walked alone
When my dogs have died.
Now I pass by
With another one.
Time moves forever on.
All logs decay.
I know one day
Dogs and I
Will not pass by.
But autumn leaves
Are beautiful to me.
When a young lady known as Claire
Said, “these autumn trees are so bare”.
They said to her, “dear,
Its that time of year.
And do put some clothes on Claire!”
A young lady drunk on Hock
Walked around wearing only 1 sock.
When they said, “you’re nude!,
Which is so very rude!”
She said, “I’m wearing a sock!”
When a young lady wearing only a hat
Went and invited me back to her flat,
And I said, “Rose!
Where are your clothes!”,
She said, “You’re silly! They’re at my flat!”
A patch of sunlight on the hall floor.
I close the living room door
And the light is seen no more.
I know the night kills the light
And the ferryman waits to take
Me to the final gate
Where there is no Cerberus
To prevent our escape.
Just what was us
And implacable fate.
I am marrying a young lady named Kate
Who will inherit all of my literary estate.
She says, “writers have money”,
Which I find really funny –
As she’ll inherit all of my literary estate …
K Morris - Poet 