Today I’m posting a poem by my friend, Kevin Morris. Kevin writes rhyming poetry, and I love them.
Sometimes I have seen
The night light gleam
On angels whose wings
Have been clipped
By lustful lips,
Meaning love’s sting
Is not their thing.
Here is a link to Kevin’s website so you can read more of his poetry.
I am not a fan of modern poetry. I’ve said this before. I’m not saying many of these poems are not poetic, and beautiful in many ways, I just can’t recognise them as poetry. To me, poetry should have at least rhythm, if not rhyme. (And as someone who has written poetry, it is much more difficult to deal with rhythm and/or rhyme.) Many of these modern poems, or Free Verse, would not be recognised as poetry if they were not in lines. (In many cases, seemingly random line breaks.)
My friend, Kevin Morris, writes poetry that I recognise as poetry. He writes humorous verse along with other more philosophical ones, and they rhyme and have rhythm.
He has been featured, reading his own poetry, on Canadian Radio on more than one occasion.
He showcases some of his poetry on his blog. (address below).
Here is an example of one of the poems from his latest collection.
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
Nought of clock
And my fleeting word.
(Blackbird can be found in Leaving and Other Poems, which is available from Amazon in Kindle and paperback, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09R8NG6WQ/).
Connect with Kevin on the following sites:
Links:
Blog: https://kmorrispoet.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/drewdog2060_
The review below was of Further Selected Poems of K. Morris, also available on Amazon, as Leaving and Other Poems is only just out and it has not got any Amazon reviews yet.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 29 March 2021
Here we have some funny but also thought provoking poems and limericks. I have to say I do prefer the limericks that are in this book as they are very amusing. My favourite poem in the book is Sparrows in the tree as we get a lot of sparrows in our garden, they are very common in the UK. Now every time I see a sparrow I will be thinking of this poem. My favourite limerick in here is There once was a turkey called Paul, just from the title alone you know it is going to be funny. I laughed my socks off on this limerick. Thank you once again to Kevin who has written some truly fantastic verses.
Kevin was born in the city of Liverpool on 6th January 1969. Having attended The Royal School for the Blind and St. Vincent’s School for the Blind in Liverpool, he went on to read History and Politics at the University College of Swansea.
Having graduated with a BA (Joint Honours), and an MA in Political Theory, Kevin moved to London where he now lives and works.
Being visually impaired, Kevin uses screen reading software called Job Access with Speech (JAWS) which converts text into speech and braille, enabling him to use a Windows laptop.
Much of Kevin’s poetry is written in his home, which overlooks a historic park in Upper Norwood/Crystal Palace, a suburb of Greater London.
Have you read any of Kevin’s poetry? Let me know in the comments box.
How about a free, exclusive story? You can get one, by me, by clicking on the link below.
Maria and her husband, Jack, have moved into an old cottage. They want to furnish it with period furniture and buy a medieval table.
That’s when the mystery begins. Strange sounds in the night. Have they bought a haunted house? But a medium tells them it is not a ‘lost spirit’, but something else she does not recognise.
What is it that is causing them to lose sleep? The answer is more unexpected than anyone thought.
By clicking on the link, you will join my quarterly newsletter. But don’t worry, you can unsubscribe at any time, including as soon as you have downloaded the story, if you wish.
I won’t spam you, either. You will only get a newsletter every 3 months, but I might occasionally send you a present, or some exciting news, like a new release.
As it is now well into the winter season, here is a poem to celebrate it.
Everything dead.
Nothing moves.
The skies of lead
Press down on the roofs.
The icicles hang
Like teeth in the maw.
Each one a fang
In a wolf’s jaw.
The wind with his knife
Cuts through to the bone.
Soon snow will arrive
And the swallows have flown.
The trees that were green
Are now turned to white,
And everything’s seen
In a glowing bright light.
But look what I’ve found!
A tiny green shoot
Pushing up through the ground.
A snowdrop, no doubt.
It tells of the spring
Not so far away,
And how it will bring
All the flowers of May.
I hope you enjoyed reading my poem. I would love to hear what you think of it.
Do you enjoy poetry? Many people don’t, and poetry books, it is said, don’t sell very well, but I find that some of my most popular posts are my poems.
Please leave your comments in the comments box.
.
In September I went to Pembrokeshire in South Wales for a week’s holiday. Now Wales is not noted for wall to wall sunshine, but this year it decided to be exceptional. Glorious sunshine. Shorts and tee-shirt weather.
Because I’ve written poems about Scotland and England, I decided to write one about Wales, and to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy it.
Land of the dragon,
And King Arthur’s court.
Land of Myrddin
Where Magic was wrought.
Land of the Druids,
Land of the bards.
Land of mystery
Her secret she guards.
Land of song
In chapel and pub.
Land of mountains
Soaring above.
Land of beaches
Next to the sea.
Children playing,
Laughter and glee.
Land of deep valleys
Known as Cwm.
Land of coal mines
In underground gloom.
Land of the last gold
In Britain is found,
The Romans dug it
From deep underground.
Land of Eisteddfod,
Of singing and dance.
In Llangollen’s valley
The whole world does prance.
Land of the Celts.
Land of the sheep.
On her green hillsides
The lambs they do bleat.
Land of the raven.
Land of the kite.
High soaring above
In graceful flight.
Land of steel.
Land of slate,
Dug from the mountains
Our roofs for to make.
Land of a language
With beauteous sound.
But try to pronounce it
Your tongue will be bound.
Land of the daffodil
Land of the leek.
Symbols of Welshness
For those who do seek.
Land of green hills,
Of valleys and dales.
Croeso y Cymru.
Welcome to Wales.
I would love to know what you think of this poem. Please post your comments in the comments box.
To find out more about me, what I’m doing and about my writing, please sign up for my quarterly newsletter. As a thank you, I will send you an exclusive, free short story, written by me.
Don’t worry about being spammed. I hate spam as much as the rest of you. And if you just want to sign up for the story then unsubscribe, that’s fine.
As it’s now Autumn, officially, I thought I’d post a poem about that season. I think I’ve already posted it previously, but I’ve new followers who haven’t seen it before.
So here it is.
The Downs are wreathed in mist, like smoke
From a dying fire.
The leaves are turning red and gold
Like flames upon a pyre.
Spring’s little lambs are grown to sheep
The swallows they have flown.
The blossoms that the summer brought
Their petals all have thrown.
Now autumn’s bounty fills the woods,
The hedgerows are ablaze
With hips and haws in colours bright
The senses to amaze.
The smoke from wood fires fills the air,
The scent of autumn true.
The autumn sun is cooler now
And mornings filled with dew.
The cobwebs shine with dewdrops bright.
The spider in her lair
Thinks nothing of the rainbow hue
That scatters in the air.
And children kick the fallen leaves
As laughingly they run
To gather conkers, shiny brown,
Gleaming in the sun.
We gather blackberries from the hedge
And apples from on high.
Up in the tree they ripen now
To turn into a pie.
But autumn sometimes has a kick
And the rain it lashes down.
The wind, it howls within the eaves
And through the trees doth moan.
I almost entered this into a contest a year or two ago, but in the end chickened out. I thought I’d share it with you. I hope you like it.
That misty isle across the sea
Will always be a home to me.
The cliffs of white that guard our shores,
The rolling Downs, the bleak, cold moors,
The skylark with his liquid song
Soaring high above the throng
Of hikers, picnickers and such,
Whose hearts he never fails to touch.
The little streams and brooks do run
Through woodlands, glistening in the sun.
The little fish are swimming here;
A kingfisher is always near.
A flash of blue above the stream,
A dive, then gone, that silver gleam
Of minnows, gone to feed his brood
In holes, all waiting for their food.
In cities where the pigeons fly
The wind-blown litter flutters by.
The cars and buses, cycles too,
Line up at lights, forming a queue.
The city’s clamorous roar assaults
The ears, but never, ever halts.
The busy folk all rushing past.
They never slow, time goes so fast.
The little market towns do snooze.
The slightest little thing is news.
In pretty villages with greens
Are cottages with oaken beams.
The church bells echo o’er the fields
Calling us with merry peals
As they have done for many a year
Bringing hope and lots of cheer.
This land does not a climate boast.
Just weather blown from coast to coast.
All in one day, this land can get
All four seasons, sun and wet.
Though no extremes do us attack,
Do not go out without a mac
For rain can come at any time,
Though rarely with a gale force nine.
The English folk are stubborn, too,
As we showed in World War 2.
We do not push, but stand in line,
Waiting patiently till it’s time.
We do not wail and wave our arms
We think such behaviour has bo charms,
But when we’re roused, then just watch out
We’ll demonstrate, wave flags and shout.
And so my country is unique;
Its people never really meek.
An upper lip that’s stiff conceals
A wicked humour that reveals
Our lack of deference for power,
Our love for bird and bee and flower.
Abroad may have its charms, it’s true,
But England’s magic’s ever new.
Did you like this poem? Let me know your thoughts in the comments. I always enjoy hearing from you.
Would you like a short story? Sign up to join my quarterly newsletter and I will send you an exclusive story absolutely free. This story will not be posted on any blog, mine or anyone else’s, nor published in any book or magazine.
If you would like this offer, click on the button below.
You can also join me on social media by clicking on the links in the sidebar.
Cover Art by Jason Pedersen
Champions
Facing their destined foe
Enduring scars
Add your comments to the comments box.
If you would like to learn more about me and my writing, click on the button below to join my quarterly newsletter. You will get cover reveals, news of my current works in progress and the occasional exclusive story.
The origin of the Limerick is uncertain. I read that it was around in the thirteenth century, but the rhyming sequence was different, and so I ask, “Can they be called Limericks?”
Some sources say it came from an Irish soldiers’ song called “Will You Come up to Limerick.” People made up verses as it was sung.
They may also have been a way for people to remember things. It’s easier if there’s a known rhythm .
It was made popular in England by Edward Lear who wrote his “Book of Nonsense” in 1846, although he did not call his poems limericks, but Nonsense Verse.
Wherever the name and the poems came from, they are an important part of our culture, and the form appears from nursery rhymes to songs.
Limericks were typically rude and bawdy, but as this is a family-friendly website, I’ve kept mine clean. I hope you enjoy these two.
I was inspired to begin to write this form of poetry by reading many written by Kevin Morris, who seems to be the Edward Lear of today. Thanks Kevin.
So without more ado, here are my poems.
One day as I played my violin
The door opened and Mother came in.
She said with a frown,
“Please put that thing down.
Nobody likes your vile din.”
Difficult maths is my pride.
I can solve it when others have cried.
Cone volume divining,
Circle area refining.
I think you can say it’s pi-eyed.
If you enjoyed my limericks, (or even if you didn’t) please add a comment in the comments box.
If you would like to buy any of my books, simply click on the cover in the sidebar and it will take you to Amazon where you are.
All are available in ebook and paperback format, with some also in hardback and audio.
I send out a newsletter every 3 months with news of my writing, new releases, cover reveals and the occasional exclusive short story. If you would like to join, please click on the button below.
I‘ve shared some of my Mum’s poetry with you before, so I thought I’d post this one of hers about the River Dee. The one in Wales, not the Scottish one!
Just imagine you’re with me
Along the banks of the River Dee.
Such beautiful sights you then will see
From Bala Lake to Connah’s Quay.
Gracefully she flows along
From her source at Bala Lake
On through the beautiful ‘Land of Song’
Her journey she doth make.
On she goes through Corwen Town
Her ripples quietly stirring,
As slowly, majestically, she moves down
To the foaming falls at Berwyn.
A wonderful scene which doth never fail
To convey a calm and sweet repose
As through the beautiful sunlit vale
And under Llangollen’s bridge she flows.
Tirelessly on o’er Cefn’s smooth rock
The viaduct and aqueduct are here.
On to pretty Erbistock
Past its Inn, Church, Mill and Weir.
Overton Bridge, what a lovely sight.
Here you hear wonderful tales
Of how, for salmon, they had to fight,
The fishermen of Wales.
Historic Bangor she now leaves
Here the monks fought their foes.
Serenely weaving her way she goes
Through green Worthenbury meadows.
The place which she now comes upon
Was surely made for fairies.
Lovely Holt and quaint Farndon
Famed for their strawberries.
Leaving the scenery of Wales
For the land of the ‘Gentlemen Merry’
To see the launch that daily sails
And turns at Eccleston Ferry.
Past the vast estates of Westminster
The banks they look so pretty,
As busily she enters Chester;
The ancient cathedral city.
Twisting around the famous Roodee
Back to Wales again she goes.
Queensferry Bridge, Shotton, Connah’s Quay
And into the estuary she flows.
Where e’er you go in this whole, wide world
By car, coach, sea or rails.
Like the river, you will return and say,
“There’s nowhere quite like Wales”
I hope you enjoyed my Mum’s poem. Although born and bred in England, she always had a love of Wales. She lived many years on the border, on a farm not far from the River Dee. In fact it flowed through the farm lands. We used to take a picnic down to the river in the summer.
For some of the distance the river marks the border between England and Wales, and when we had our picnics, we were in England, but the other side was Wales.
I heard a story that during the ban on travel from England to Wales, a person drove across the bridge in Farndon to pick up a takeaway just on the other side. Sadly that was in Wales and they got fined for crossing the border!
If you enjoyed my Mum’s poem, please leave a comment in the comments box.
You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Linked In by clicking on the icons, or sign up for my quarterly newsletter by clicking on the join button in the left sidebar.
My newsletter will tell you more about me and what I’m up to as well as my writing. You will get first chance to see book covers, and perhaps get the chance to help choose. I also intend to send the occasional exclusive bit of writing to you.
World4women has posted this lovely way of representing women. Click on the link to read the post.
Dear Society,
You see me as tears, saga of a broken beaten self. But I am a rain drop that has many rainbows hidden in its embrace.
You see me as dust that can be swept under the carpet of your fallacious ego. But I am the earth from whose lap life emanates.
Change The Way You See Me – world4womencom (wordpress.com)
Feel free to share this with your readers, and leave a comment in the comments box.
If you would like to find out more about me and my writing, then join my mailing list by clicking here. I promise, NO SPAM. I hate it as much as everyone else. You will find more about me and my writing, and get the first views of covers and information about new releases. I usually send an email every three months, with occasional ones in between, so you won’t be inundated with emails filling up your inbox!
