Soon November
Will become December
And January
Will follow on.
How soon
Another year
Is gone!
Endings
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Tag Archives: time
A Poem from My Further Selected Poems
During a recent visit to my family in Liverpool, I visited Woolton wood. My trip to the wood took in a visit to the Walled Garden, https://www.merseyforest.org.uk/things-to-do/walks-bike-rides-and-more/walks/woolton-woods-and-camphill/.
In this peaceful spot, I spent some little time admiring the memorial benches and floral cuckoo clock, which feature in my poem “In Memory of”:
“A bench replete
With flowers
In winter’s wood.
Hours
Incomplete
Marked by a stone
Clock with lost hands.
We go into the unknown
Wood.
But perhaps a bench may stand
To commemorate
Those who, of a late
Winter afternoon,
Think on nature’s passing bloom.”
“In Memory of” can be found in my collection “The Further Selected Poems of K Morris”, which is available from Amazon in Kindle and paperback, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Further-Selected-Poems-Morris-ebook/dp/B08XPMGD3F.
I Always Return
I always return
To the tick tock
Of the clock,
From which I learn
To accept and respect
That I
Will die.
My Clock’s Old Chime
My clock’s old chime
Is out of time
With this modern age.
But I must engage
For I know
That the clock
Will not stop
Though I wish
It would do so.
I Heard A Leaf Fall
I heard a leaf fall.
It fell, dry and dead,
And rested there
On greying head.
And brought a thought
Of the passing kind
Into my so mortal mind …
Background
My clock’s chime
Makes background sound
As I rhyme.
I raise my glass
To old Father Time
Who will outlast
This poor rhyme.
On Hearing the Same Clock
On hearing the same clock
On the same kitchen wall,
I recall, another blackbird’s call,
And that old Time Knocks,
1 day, for us all.
If My Clock Antique
If my clock antique
Could, somehow speak
What would it say?
Yet, it’s chime
Speaks of time
And my brief day.
Poet Kevin Morris Reading His Poem Blackbird on Youtube
Yesterday, I recorded my poem Blackbird on youtube,
The poem came to me as I sat in my mum’s kitchen/dining area in Liverpool. The big clock on the wall ticked away the seconds whilst, in the garden I could hear the song of a blackbird.
Blackbird
I see the sun shine
Think on the divine
And the tick tock
Of the ever-present clock.
I hear the blackbird
Who has heard
Not of clock,
And my fleeting word.
K Morris - Poet 