Fights ahead

I came across a new word, Kuffarophobia.
This is the irrational hatred of non-Muslims by some Muslims.
Like all hate it has to be challenged and confronted and not appeased.
Sadly many leaders just do not think that way, until too late.
(And no, I do not hate the religions of others)


Fights ahead

Now who can debate with irrational hate
Discuss with old books from the past?
Alas, now too late it seems a dark fate,
So, we’re left here all sad and aghast.

We may feel lost, our fate, storm tossed
As we cope with the hatred and bile.
Through all the cost, we may seem, star-crossed;
The brave they stay true all the while.

While none may debate with irrational hate
Where madness possesses each mind.
Fate ever late will bring forth the Great,
Where life here had seemed so unkind.

We’ll turn and we’ll stand and face all at hand,
And drive back the hallowers of hate.
For we know that here, this is Our land,
Let the bigots of bile face their fate.

© Trevor Morgan, 28/5/2018


Laura’s Starlight

The vile scandal of child rapes in Rotherham is a horror story.
One of the survivors has written a book about this and the murder of her sister, Laura, in a so-called, honour killing.
This song lyric was inspired by one paragraph in Sarah’s book.


Laura’s Starlight

There’s a star in the night
High above all the spite
But the cause of great loss still remains.
The sun’s in the sky
And the song birds fly high
But a whole town is riven with pains.

Dark waters had hid
The dark deeds demons did
The day that dear Laura was slain.
Searchers had found
Some blood on the ground
And a shoe that bore a red stain.

Now Hope won’t elope
In the arms of despair,
There will be no surrender to fear.
The starlight so bright
Shines down its sweet light,
An Angel seems now with us here.

With strength, we shall share,
Here and everywhere,
The burdens of what must be done.
Till we set to flight
All lewd lust and spite
And justice and truth will have won.


© Trevor Morgan, June 2016


Bowlegged Buck

I like country music.
I like it because the lyrics are so integral to the art form.
Also although the songs are about Mamma, trains, getting drunk, etc., they also have a good tradition of the comic lyric.
I dedicate this to all boys named Sue!

Bowlegged Buck

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
The wanted such love
But well – maybe –
They’ll find it a chore.
They find it to so strained,
Yet, for their loving
Neither Complained.

The bed was no good.
The table all right.
So that’s where they spent
Their first lovin’ night.

Getting together
Though it was a chore
Is somethin’ they’re doin’
Now more an’ more.

But then with love
The question it begs;
How love finds a way
Through a mismatch of legs.

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
Enjoyin’ such love
And though – maybe –
They find it a chore,
They find it a strain,
Yet, for this loving
Neither Complain.

© Trevor Morgan, 2004

From: “Lyrics for Candy Blue”

Sonnet – Their Little Girl

A family gathering for an event.


Sonnet – Their Little Girl

The Mother washed the child with gentle care,
She softly dried her lovely white clear skin
And brushed and combed the lovely blond long hair,
As overflowing thoughts were held within.
She dressed the little maid in her best dress,
Then dainty little shoes put on her feet.
She gave the child a sweet and soft caress
Then went beside the fire and took her seat
And sat there for a while on that damp morn.
Until came time to cook that special meal,
Her Husband came with Sisters all forlorn,
For all there felt such things that none ought feel.
No feelings though got said, not out aloud,
As they wrapped round the soft white linen shroud.

© Trevor Morgan, 16/5/2018

From: “Tales of Frigar”

to Barbara
her loss was total

Sonnet – Turmoil of the soul

I have felt for a long time that from turmoil comes the best poetry.
The idea that you can subsidise poets with grants and they can then write powerful verses is wrong.
Great poetry has come from war, failure, defeat, victory, anxiety and elation. It comes with falling in love or in death and loss.
It is difficult to write with passion over tea and biscuits in the warm.
Difficult, that is, for me.


Sonnet – Turmoil of the soul

Now wallowing through the mire that’s left by Hopes,
False Hopes that had proclaimed life would be good.
With spirits left all trussed up as with ropes;
Sad victims of false Hopes did what they could.
For wherein is there good in futile rage?
And how in sad souls can new joys be found?
It seems the Fates have writ upon their page
And Fortitude is now what must be found.
There is no point at all in seeking strife,
No point in gestures, nor in vain pretence.
It seems that turmoil like some jagged knife
Mars souls in ways that never can make sense.
New joys may well now come from smallest things,
Like some bird that’s unseen now sweetly sings.

© Trevor Morgan, Samhain 2004

Heart and Mind

It is almost like there are two sides to all of us.
The emotional and the rational pull different ways but need each other for us to be whole


Heart and Mind

The restless heart will sigh again,
The restless heart will mope,
And all of us can feel the strain
Or some of us lose hope.

The wandering mind may soar again,
The wandering mind may cope.
Then none of us need feel the strain
And none of us need mope.

For wandering minds will find new ways
As they seek new insight,
While wandering to the end of days
They’ll take us to the height.

The heart may soar with hope and faith
Or seek to love and care,
And sometimes haunted by a wraith
May slump into despair.

Then restless hearts will cry again
And restless hearts lose hope.
The mind is there to bear the strain,
The mind is there to cope.

But restless minds may sigh again
And restless minds may mope,
And all of us can feel the strain
And some of us lose hope.

Then faithful hearts may soar again,
Then faithful hearts may cope.
Then none of us need feel the strain
And none of us need mope.

For faithful heart and wandering mind
May well be poles apart;
No matter what new thoughts we find
We do all need a heart.

© Trevor Morgan, 15/5/2018

From: “Aethelwulf of Lyng”

Jesus Wept

I have written a lot about our heathen ancestors.
There was a long struggle between them and an imported religion from the Levant, that is Christianity.
From the time of Bede the English have been mostly Christian, but at times have used this religion in such ways as to ensure that Jesus weeps still.


Jesus Wept

Child Jesus walked the world of men,
He came here to bring Grace.
He’s here in each hill and fen,
In every smiling face.

But though he’s tried throughout the years,
Yet few have cared to know
And so his eyes they weep salt tears,
And through each day they flow.

This one son of the one true God
Has died to save each soul.
It was upon this world he trod,
So, souls could all be whole.

© Trevor Morgan

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”

The Hatred of “Heresy”

When Jesus brought light to the world,
Foul men would snuff it out.
Then Satan’s banner was unfurled
For his foul gift was – doubt.

“The light of faith may guide all to
Pure respite for the soul.
Foul doubt may leave us all to rue,
In Hell we pay the toll.

The light is here that all may see
The works of our good Lord
For Christ is there to set us free;
There can be no discord!”

© Trevor Morgan

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”


The Glance

Strange how just a single glance can cause a thrill.
Maybe we are programmed to fall in love.
It seems I was.


The Glance

The vagaries of time and place
The randomness of chance.
The memories I can’t erase
You bring back with a glance!

The thoughts I think and do not feel,
The feelings without thought;
That make the mind revolve and reel,
You cause by doing nought.

My brain it dreams, is in a spin,
My mind it seems to dance;
It is as though you’re here within
Each time I catch your Glance.

Feelings explode without a thought
As I then seem to reel.
You do all this by doing nought;
Pure Joy is what I feel.

The vagaries of time and place
The randomness of chance.
The memories I can’t erase
You bring back with a glance!

Trevor Morgan 1968 amended 11/5/2018

Dedicated to My Lady Love

Sonnet – To Hate

A burning cold dark hate is never worth it.
To be consumed with hate even after a great wrong distorts all and makes for a wasted life.


Sonnet – To Hate

A good man may be made to seethe with hate.
The wicked live with it most of the time.
To some it seems it is their natural state,
While others sink into it past they’re prime.
It has attractions to those harmed by wrong;
It simmers in the souls of those who hurt
And to avoid its lure all must be strong,
Or it may drag weak minds down through the dirt.
A hate may burn out soon that’s seething hot.
To rage against a wrong may be all right;
Though to be turned ice cold by hate is not.
One’s over soon the other’s a slow blight.
Now hate has had a long and sure career,
No matter where you go it may be near.

© Trevor Morgan, 4/5/2018


Most of my ambitions have led to disappointment.
Most that is bar one!




Ambition like a warm seductive whore
Will give her warm embrace.
Delusion, and a lot that’s worse and more
Will soon then take her place.
Resentment will retaliate for sure
And spit hate in your face.
Contentment may be found again once more
And stress give way to Grace.
But this can only happen when you find
Your own sweet private place.
So why do good for those who are unkind;
Content yourself with what you have – your mind.


© Trevor Morgan 5.2000