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Best Kim Morrison Poems

Below are the all-time best Kim Morrison poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Kim Morrison Poem

The Teacher

O Teacher! My Teacher!
I would dare to channel a master just for you.
I know not if I am up to this lofty task,
but it is to your expectation that I try to rise. 
You never asked for anymore than my best
and I love you for never demanding any less.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
If you had not opened a locked door,
the engulfing rays of enlightenment
may never have caressed my yearning face,
or held me tightly in her awakening embrace
releasing the song desperately trapped in my soul.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
You always said I had a great gift.
If that is true, I heap all praise on you.
You have the most wonderful offering of all
for within you rested the ability to recognize
the potential now flowing freely under my pen.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
I will forever hold you in the highest esteem.
I am not certain if mere words could ever express 
the appreciation I have long held for your guiding hand.
Undaunted by the impossible task now in front of me,
this student will once again try to impress his teacher. 




This piece was inspired and written for Professor Judy Davis who taught at the College of Central Florida until she retired. She was my English Literature and Composition teacher the first time I went to college. Many go into teaching, but the special few, like Judy, are called to the profession. She is now enjoying her retirement, but her old student here still communicates with her occasionally. 


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Dear Rosebud

Dear Rosebud:
The morning dew gently caresses you
like the faint whisper of a young child's kiss.
Your limbs yearningly reach for the sun
as if awaiting a long lost lover's embrace.
Only a pair of vacant eyes could fail to see
the wonderful symphony of color waiting to be.
If allowed to come into full bloom uninterrupted,
butterflies will dance liltingly across your awakening splendor
as honey bees sing praises to your blossoms burgeoning bounty. 
I can only pray your thorns grow sharp and rugged enough
to defend against the groping  hands of life's wickedness.
Only the desires of the most savage hearts would ravage
a still unfolding beauty and extinguish a spectacle yet to be.
Only a vile pair of ears could fail to hear a shattering heart
and the soul deafening screams of a rose picked too soon.
Love dad...


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Our Poet Destroyer

Like a buzzing bumble bee welcoming
the opening of stunning new blooms,
she flits constantly from page to page 
just to check out all the new poems.
If you are one of the lucky new poets,
she will pollinate your written work
with a sparkling comment  that will
often leave you in such a state of awe 
that rendering a response beyond
just a simple "thank you" is difficult. 
She is loved by many new poets
and appreciated by even more
while others green with jealously
envy her own poetic skill and talent.
She may go by this name or that name,
or occasionally use her given name,
but to all those who really do care
she will always be our "Poet Destroyer."


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Unknowing Hearts

 Wrapped in the passion of the moment
 engulfed in a cascade of a emotion 
 carried by a gushing torrent of desire
 dancing on the rapids of uncertainty
 two unknowing hearts intertwined 
 in the rapture of blinding passion
 rush toward forbidden waters.

 In the midst of love's blissful chaos
 will two unknowing hearts whirl 
 perilously over confusion's cliff 
 and plunge helplessly toward   
 the jagged rocks of ill-fated love,
 or will two unknowing hearts 
 be found desperately clinging
 to the last branch of innocents? 
      


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Hey Stop Calling Him Retard Joe You Guys

       School Bus drivers always have stories to tell and most of them come directly from the children that once our rode our buses. This one is no exception, but it is also a fine example of how kids themselves through laughter can overcome what we have all come to call bullying. Years ago I had a student on my bus that was slow and he talked a bit funny because of it. The other students used to tease and pick on him constantly by calling him "retard Joe."  I would yell at them often for picking on this kid, but as hard as I tried these little wise guys always found away to get a "retard Joe" remark or two in during just about every trip. One special day, Joe finally had it up to the top with their crap and decided to take matters in his own hands. Out of the blue Joe stands up from the front seat and turns to the students seated behind him and yells: "I not wetarded! I just stupid!"  Well the whole bus load of students just roared into a laughter so loud that I am certain it was heard a half a block away. What made matters worse is I started laughing so hard myself that I had tears in my eyes and had to pull the bus over just to regain my composure. At that point, I looked back at Joe and he was standing there behind his seat looking at me as if to say why is everybody laughing. I guess it suddenly hit him that instant why what he said made everybody laugh and then he began to laugh even louder than the rest of us. I don't know if the laughter erased all of Joe's pain from being picked on, but I can tell you that not one of those students ever called him "retard Joe" again from that point on.  Some of the same students that once picked on Joe went out of their way to talk to him and the kid they once called "retard Joe" became Jojo.  The moral of this story is never underestimate anybody because even someone who is a few fries short of happy meal can have a moment of stunning brilliance and teach us all a life lesson.





Unfortunately, even well-meaning people will call people like Jojo “special” without realizing that what makes them unique is their ability to laugh at themselves, not the fact that they are slow. It should be painful for all of us to watch someone, like Jojo, being picked on by others, but what we too often fail to recognize is that when we see this kind of thing happening we could in fact be witnessing the slow destruction of a genuinely good hearted person and in this day and age that is a Goddamned shame. Jojo has been out of school for more than half a decade now, but old Mr. “K” still talks to him on Facebook once in a while and he writes exactly like he speaks.   


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Why

Why?
Why me?
Why you?
Why do I?
Why do you?
Why now?
Why later?
Why didn’t you?
Why didn’t I?
Why didn’t you know?
Why didn’t I know?
Why did it have to be this way?
Why did it have to be that way?
Why did you stay?
Why did you go?
Why did life go this way?
Why did life go that way?
Why? Why? Why?
The tormenting word of questions
It rarely ever lets a mind rest
For the minds desire for answers is insatiable by nature.
The minds quest for discovery is unyielding and unending
For every answer found only gives birth to more questions.
No wonder madness grows taller in the thinking mind
The soil is far less fertile in the dull dim witted mind. 
 


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Words Unspoken

                                                  Anger shrouds my sorrow,
                                                  a storm rages deep within.
                                                  Questions without answers
                                                  swirl around my mind.
                                                  Damn! this emotional confusion.

                                                  Why the sacrifice?
                                                  Why the trade off?
                                                  Was it loneliness?
                                                  Was it greed?
                                                  Damn! the sadness I cannot feel.

                                                  Did you love me?
                                                  Were you proud of me?
                                                  Did you even care?
                                                  Why didn’t we talk?
                                                  Damn! your legacy of silence.
                                
                                      Rage! Rage! against the death of the light.
                                      I curse the words unspoken, the truth not shed.
                           Why God?...Why?...Why must we part before the heart to heart?  


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

The Quill Masters

                                                     


                                                      Whitman wrote of a great Captain
                                                      Keats Ode A Nightingale
                                                      Frost took The Road Not Taken
                                                      Donne knew For Whom The Bell Tolls
                                                      Thomas raged against The Dying Of The Light
                                                      Like Poe's Raven they are Nevermore,
                                                      But their works live on evermore. 


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Another Tomorrow

                       Why me God? 
                          Why must you call me home now?
                          This is not fair.
                          This can’t be right.
                          I want more life.
                       Why can’t I have another tomorrow?


                       Why me God?
                          I have endured what was dealt to me.
                          I have suffered.
                          I have felt loss and sorrow.
                          I am no stranger to pain.
                       Why can’t I have another tomorrow?

                        
                       Why me God?
                          I know I am no Saint.
                          I know I am not perfect.
                          I did the best I could.
                          I always tried to do the right thing.
                       Why can’t I have another tomorrow?


                        Why me God?
                            My time here was way to brief.
                            Why can’t I stay a little longer?
                            My family still needs me.
                            Why do you summon me now?
                         Why can’t I have another tomorrow?


                         Why me God?
                             Why can’t I have another tomorrow?
                              No more pain to endure
                              Unconditional love
                              Absolute freedom
                          Oh God! …Now I see the light.


Details | Kim Morrison Poem

Diana

                           In a small village there grew       
                           a beauty pure, and true
                           a flower beyond pristine  
                           a shy rose not yet seen

Blessed are those who can hear the screams of flowers picked to soon.


                            A woman grounded in earthly hue
                            came to light in Royal blue.
                            A lady of depth and substance
                            towered above pomp and circumstance.

Blessed are those who can cradle a wilted body without pause, or fear.


                             With our heads bent in silent contemplation,
                             we bid farewell to the conscience of a nation.
                             To “England’s Rose” we say good-bye.
                             Good-bye to our lovely Princess Di’

Blessed  are the wingless angels that walk in the valley among us.			


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