Tag Archives: writing

Your Chance To Win A Free Copy Of “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”

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I am offering the chance to win a print copy of my recently released collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”.

“Lost” is currently only available as a Kindle download

I am, however in the final stages of producing a print copy (the book is with the printer and should be available for sale at a cost of £11.45 by late March.

If you would like to win a free signed copy of “Lost in the Labyrinth” please answer the following question

What is the title of my first collection of poetry?

Please send your entries via email to newauthoronline (at) gmail dot com, putting “Competition” in the subject line.

Rules:

1. Only one print copy of “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” is being offered.
2. The first person to email me with the correct answer wins a free copy of “Lost”.
3. The winner will be contacted by email with a request that they provide their full postal address so the book can be posted.
4. Your personal data will be deleted once the competition closes. It will not be shared with anyone.
If, having read “Lost” you would like to write a review, this would be very much appreciated. You are, however under absolutely no obligation to do so.
Good luck.

Kevin

Hyacinths

1 Reply

Hyacinths on a gramophone.
Alone
They stood
On polished wood.
Their scent carrying me back
Down childhood’s track.
The flower’s smel
Blossoming in a wishing well
With a plastic handle.
My thought tangles
With the ivy that
In a bowl sat.

As a boy
My goal was joy.
The earth was good as the man.
I can
Recall
Honeysuckle on a garden wall
And roses, their scent
Is long since spent.
My grandfather went away
Yet in my heart he stays
As I lose myself, in spring days

Poetry Unplugged (Tuesday 22 March)

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kevin-morris-and-his-guidedog-trigger     Toby Wheeler

I am planning to attend the Poetry Unplugged event, together with fellow poet Toby Wheeler, on Tuesday 22 March and read some of my poetry.

The event takes place at the Poetry Cafe, 22 Betterton Street in London’s Covent Garden.

If you are in the vicinity it would be great to see you there.

For details of Poetry Unplugged please click HERE.

Kevin

Read An Ebook Week – Victoria (Tori) Zigler’s Books

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I have received the below, from my author friend, Victoria (Tori) Zigler, who’s books are enrolled in “Read An Ebook Week”. Please do check out Tori’s books.

Kevin

“Some of my books are on sale this week as part of Smashwords Read An eBook Week.

Details of which ones I’ve enrolled, how much of a discount you’ll get, and what coupon codes to use, can be found HERE

“Lazy? No, Miss-Judged” by Jayne King

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I am pleased to publish the below poem, “Lazy? No Miss-Judged”, by Jayne King. For Jayne’s poem, “Dreadfully Drained” please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2016/03/03/dreadfully-drained-by-jayne-king/.

—

People think I’m lazy,
Sleeping until noon,
They don’t see my misery,
Making judgments, too soon.

They don’t know that I have been
Laying awake for hours.
Tossing as well as turning,
Underneath the covers.

Finally, as the world around starts waking,
My eyelids feel like lead,
Now, what I’ve been waiting for all night,
I have to fight, instead.

House of Glass

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How easy to judgement pass
As we sit in our house of glass
Watching the foolish trip by
On heels high.

How simple it is to sneer
At those who in joy and fear
Lose
Themselves in shoes
Passing near.

With our clear view
We watch the stupid stew
And smile
In denial
For ‘Tis not me and you …

Metaphors

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He speaks in metaphors
Of doors
That with reluctance open
And flowers, their stems broken
By the passionate gale
That leaves pale
Ghosts behind.

In his mind
He sees
The bees
Sup from the flower’s heart.
The rain start
To fall
And summer joys, turn to gall.

“Dreadfully Drained” By Jayne King

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I am pleased to publish the below poem, “Dreadfully Drained” by Jayne King. For Jayne’s poem, “Sleepless 1 and 2” please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2016/01/30/sleepless-1-and-2-by-jayne-king/.

—

On the sofa I’m falling asleep,
But in bed I lay awake.
Why this bizarre occurance?
Life’s no piece of cake.

Work is so draining,
Everyone wants a piece of me.
I’m merely human, you know?
Why can’t they just let me be?

This can’t be all to life,
Please, someone tell me there’s more.
People are quick to ask for favours,
But when I ask, I’m shown the door.

With all these things floating around,
My fatigue growing the wrong way,
Unsure when or if answers will come,
It’s no wonder sleep stays away.

Dream

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Once, as a child I grasped a thing in dream.
It did seem
That if I held it tight
This object of delight
Could be retained beyond the night.

On awaking, I put away my dream in a drawer
And can find it no more.
Where it did go
I do not know.
Yet I think of it from time to time
And lose myself in rhyme.

As A Bee To The Summer Flower

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As with the bee to the summer flower
Man dallies many an hour
Savouring the blossom’s power.
Petals delicate he feels
And reels
At the scent of the inviting rose.
In delirium he goes
and takes it to his nose.
His thirst to slake
And desire satiate.

The bee tires.
Desires
Cool, as summer draws to it’s close.
The red rose
Withers
And quivers
In the growing chill.
The rill
Dries up
And summer’s door is shut.