Chris Morgan

Biography

In the dank, dark cellar of a terraced house, long since demolished, there was a 16 year old me and 10 overstuffed filing cabinets, rapidly losing the battle to contain thousands of insurance papers within their slowly rusting metal draws. The year was 1983. Computers were embryonic in those days. The terraced house was an insurance broker's office and I was the office junior. My job was to file paperwork. Needless to say, my enthusiasm for this work waned somewhere between 9 and 11am on my first day of employment. It was in this environment that I started writing poems as a way to exercise my brain, it allowed me to mentally escape from that awful cellar. At 18 I joined a band as lead singer and began writing lyrics. I also discovered the genius wordsmith Dr John Cooper Clarke at this time, and was hooked - he inspired me to write poetry that wasn't about flowers or love, I hadn't realised that poems could be about absolutely anything! I have lived and worked in Canada and, more recently, Spain where I spent 15 years teaching business and general English, which I continue to do through the power of the internet and Skype. I moved back to the Glorious North of England in 2014.

Samples

Tour de France, Yorkshire Leg. Back in July I had the rare pleasure Of crossing them moors in the Yorkshire weather A bike race, they said, was coming this way They’d started in Leeds on the previous day With my darling wife, her sister and mum We set off for Holme Moss in the blazing sun With sandwiches, crisps, chocolate and flasks We passed houses bedecked with bunting and flags Bikes painted yellow hung everywhere You could not help but stop and stare We joined the gathering, merry throngs As we walked up the hill singing songs Bikes rushed past us of every description Thousands of ‘em, all on a mission Young and old they cycled together Grans, grandads and kids, going hell for leather From gazebo tents and makeshift stalls Just beyond the drystone walls Came the enthusiastic salesmen’s calls “Bacon butties, sausage baps And a free Yorkshire smile, how good is that!” The atmosphere was quite electric While the mix of folk was quite eclectic There were five grand bikes with serious riders And rusty old boneshakers but no one was mithered That day the cycling world pedalled as one Underneath that rare Yourkshire sun Amongst roadside thistles we found a spot to sit and wait With over 3 hours to go we knew we weren’t late We sat and ate our butties, anticipation was high Then the support caravan came by They were chucking out sweets and cheap cycling hats But to be honest they were pretty crap Eventually we saw helicopters in the valley below Then we knew there wasn’t that long to go Soon enough they were all in sight Pedalling up the hill with all their might They were flying past in a blur as one And then, just as suddenly, they were gone, Off they raced in the blink of an eye Around the corner, see you then, bye!

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