I am in the process of publishing a new poetry collection entitled “The Churchyard Yew and Other Poems”.
I am looking for honest reviews of the book in advance of it’s publication. If you would like a free electronic copy in exchange for an honest review, do please let me know by emailing me at kmorris poet at gmail dot com (the address is given in this manner to prevent spam). Please put “The Churchyard Yew Review Copy” in the subject line of your email.
The rain stops and starts.
Lovers who never where lovers part.
No hearts are broken.
But had words been spoken
At an earlier time
Perchance this rhyme of mine
Would not end in friends parting
And rain stopping and starting.
I met a young lady of Munich
Who said, “do you like my see-through tunic?”.
I said to her, “Rose!
You are wearing no clothes!”.
She said, “we dress like that in Munich!”.
In the depths of the churchyard dark
I met with a vampire named Mark.
When he went for my blood
With my great stake of wood
I ended that vampire in the dark!
There once was a lonely young guy
Who said, “I’ll create a female AI!”.
She was extremely pretty
And so very witty,
And she married a girl called Sky!
Once green leaves
Rot. And are forgot.
But great trees
They live on
When we are gone.
And some trees
Make leaves for books.
And some books
They live on
When we are gone.
But a tree
Has no vanity.
I know a young lady named Flow.
Her husband he left some time ago.
We laugh and drink
And sometimes I think,
On that strange lump in Flow’s patio …
There once was a young person of Woking
Who had a very bad habit of poking,
Until they poked an old man
Who said, “I’ve got a plan,
To kick you around the town of Woking!”.
I dreamed a dream of delight
On a warm spring night
And when I awoke
My conscience spoke.
It said, “dreams are not crimes,
But when a poet rhymes
In his art
You see his heart”.
As for me
I must practice ambiguity
In my poetry
Lest my art
Reveal my secret heart.
When I go away
Perchance my verse will stay
And some will upbraid me
For my poor poetry
And the crime
Of ambiguous rhyme …
A young lady who wore only high-heels
Had a fondness for swimming with seals.
An old vicar called Glass
Said, “we are but grass.
But I’m fond of seals and high-heels!”
K Morris - Poet 