a minor disruption

it’s not too bad,
this getting older thing
kinda like an endless autumn
the body’s farewell to spring

falling asleep sitting up
jolting awake with a snore
entering a room to wonder
what you went in there for

it’s all right,
the hip joints that pop
arthritis, dimming eyesight
neither’s a reason to stop

cavorting in the garden
dancing with the butterflies
delighting in the wonder
the gift of each sunrise

it’s okay,
this growing old
no matter that my hands
always feel a little cold

copyright © 2020 KPM

now would be a good time to surrender

pots topple in the wind
dying leaves forlornly dance
gonna mix shit up tonight
might as well take the chance

inside is manufactured heat
a dead animal fries in sizzlin’ grease
cabernet or chardonnay:
which will give the most release?

no one sees or hears us
no one’s listenin’ – o so sad
you didn’t love us enough
that’s why we behave so bad

nights get darker early
our shadows grow long ‘n lean
television makes no sense:
what do those people mean?

the lies ‘n the deception,
they just go on ‘n on
we’re expected to ignore it
settle down – it’ll soon be gone

no one wants to see or hear us
no one’s listenin’ – it’s too sad
but let’s maintain that status quo:
‘s no one’s fault that things are bad

copyright © 2020 KPM


the ivy makes love to the tree trunk
thin tree branches make love to the leaves
winged creatures sailing above
watch fallen peony petals grieve

bees harmonize with the wind
on the wall two magpies chatter
carnations & lilies sway
they got no problems – nothing’s the matter

their benevolent gardener is present
peacefully deadheading flowers
as butterflies beg for attention
in shaded, scented bowers

the gardener pulls errant weeds
from the newly cut grass
angry seagulls overhead
fly noisily en masse

all alone the gardener works
for nothing else she cares
oblivious to everything
ignoring window stares

copyright © 2020 KPM

la rona

on this chilly spring night
when she is all alone
she’s happy to see a light shining
in a window other than her own

for a plague has fallen
on the land she holds so dear
death & dissension seek to reign
along with the minions of fear

this plague makes no distinctions:
young or old, poor or rich
it’s not something one can turn off
by a simple toggle switch

yet some folks don’t think it’s serious
merrily skipping out the door
“it’s a hoax – fake news” they laugh
advice & warnings they ignore

the knowledge she possesses
did not come through grapevines
for she has many friends & family
that are on the front lines

this threat is real – relentless
crossing borders, seas & moors
why take the risk? be sensible
keep your ass indoors

copyright © 2020 KPM


she watches the sunrise
through curtains of lace
eager for the new day
reassured of God’s grace

her jeans & t-shirts
hang on the washin’ line
doin’ their dance
in hot August sunshine

though she’s scared
of the beasties that crawl in the dirt
gardenin’ helps her heal
it soothes every hurt

unlocking the red door
each day when she returns home
lovin’ the sound of silence
that comes from bein’ alone

fresh sheets on a new mattress
a waiter smilin’ & snappy
she realizes life is short:
she’s gonna spend hers bein’ happy

copyright © 2017 KPM

hard to define

sky watcher
star gazer
deep dark eyes
burn your soul like a laser

honorary auntie
best girlfriend
haunting words
nightly penned

(& when people stare
you can tell she doesn’t care)

sister, lover
working girl
yet to unfurl

dancin’ in the rain

(& when people stare
you can tell she doesn’t care)

entranced by skin
unsure what is –
& what ain’t – a sin

with music in her head
she prays for all
the beloved dead

(& when people cry
you know she knows she’s gonna die)

copyright © 2017 KPM

the last birthday

life goes on
it’s in the footsteps above my head
the metal clang of the mail slot
a sound which I now dread

the daily tasks I perform
around my tiny abode
the hum of the bus to Perth
as it rolls over the road

life goes on
with each new bloom on my plants
the washing that flaps on the line
my t-shirts, socks & pants

it’s the canned laughter
comin’ from my TV
it’s the food I sometimes cook
that evokes your memory

life goes on
though you have said good-bye
no longer can you comfort me
on those days & nights I cry

yes, life goes on:
you’re at peace with God on high
life goes on,
& somehow, so must I

copyright © 2017 KPM

somethin’ to smile about

morning sunshine
clematis on the vine
coffee steamin’ hot
spaghetti in a pot

fish swimmin’ in their tank
a walk along the river bank
ironin’ my partner’s shirt
plungin’ my hands deep into dirt

freshly done hair
friends who show they care
knowin’ what comes next
an unexpected text

the poem that takes shape
the spider that didn’t escape
the shoes that went on sale
letters from home in the mail

Saturday mornin’ & Planet Rock
finally findin’ that missin’ sock
a bra that fits just right
Scotland’s luminescent light

in the car – away we go
Bowie on the radio
Sunday evenin’ glass of wine
your hand, always holding mine

copyright © 2017 KPM

an assertion of control

water in the fish tank’s dirty
she dutifully changes it
when she’s struggling with uncertainty
her furniture – she rearranges it
when she’s seized by darkness
that seeks to destroy her soul
she thinks of things to do
to regain control

there are always clothes to wash
which she lovingly hangs outdoors
she beats back all dust & dirt
hoovering & mopping the floors
when it feels as if her demons
are on a mighty roll
she resorts to relentless cleaning
as a measure of control

she’s not an indecisive person
though she lives on sanity’s border
(& no, she doesn’t have
a delusional order)
it’s true she thinks too much
but life’s events are oft intense
she does what she feels she has to do
to get her world to make some sense

so when she’s overwhelmed by the chaos
that’s spreading across the globe
she re-pots all her plants
or cleans out her vast wardrobe
when she’s standing on the edge
of that fabled rabbit hole
she thinks of things to do
to re-assert control

copyright © 2017 KPM


right now my life
is kinda rough
the duvet’s warm embrace
is not enough
each night now
my brain cells riot
stealing my peace
disrupting the quiet

concerned about
the dark thoughts I think
I leave my bed
to stand at the kitchen sink
staring out
the wide window
at tenement lights
shining all aglow

there are others like me
who cannot sleep
do they worry? I wonder
all alone, do they weep?
are they anxious
about paying their bills,
or just lost in reveries
of youthful thrills?

the man on the sofa
sitting with shoulders slumped
is he fearful, or heartbroken
because he’s been dumped?
the woman on the bed
whose hands cover her face,
does she feel like she’s trapped
in a precarious place?

there are other folks with problems
people just like me
who hope & pray for an end
to their current misery
this nightly ritual comforts me
it’s familiar, it’s known
those lit windows reassure me
that I am not alone

copyright © 2016 KPM