a blether with a blackbird

‘n just what are you doing?
fancy stoppin’ here?
you’re welcome to do so
I promise you’ve nothin’ to fear

please pardon my attire
all these holes in my shirt
this is what I like to wear
when I’m diggin’ in the dirt

move over a wee bit
you might get tangled in my feet
what’s that – you’re feelin’ peckish?
have a dig – plenty bugs to eat

so what d’you think of my garden?
I can sit out here for hours
I so love this little space
think I should add more flowers?

wait, what’re you doin’?
I thought you wanted to play
wait a sec, come back
please don’t fly away

copyright © 2020 KPM

side effects

talk to me
tell me
all the things you miss
say it in your normal tone
whisper in a sibilant hiss

talk to me
tell me
about the things you want
divulge all of
those memories that haunt

talk to me
tell me
your secret dreams
& if you have nightmares
which make you scream

talk to me
talk to me
I’ll listen whatever you say
for I am sick with solitude
day after endless day

copyright © 2020 KPM

bottled up

it’s a sunny spring Sunday
my beloved has gone home
to keep busy, I clean the house
pretending I’m not alone

I try to tell myself, “he’s just gone
in the other room”
but I’m no master of deception
this does fuck all to dispel my gloom

although it’s barely noon
the wine bottle I uncap
it’s not like I have work tomorrow
so I do not give a crap

filling a bucket with water & bleach,
so I can mop the bathroom floor
I relive the joyous moment
when the buzzer rang at my door

such a beautiful sight to me,
in this moment, nothing matters
& when he puts those big arms around me
all my demons & fears scatter

but he’s gone home now,
so the bottle I turn up,
eschewing the fancy wine glass
or even a coffee cup

“but he always goes home on Sunday”
my rational side tries to remind me
as I vacuum the bedroom carpet
fighting tears that want to blind me

but we’re not in normal times
for this there are no paradigms
his absence may leave an empty space
but you are not the only one stuck in such a hopeless place

so I turn the bottle up
cause it ain’t shit else to do
I kill that bottle of Sauvignon
hearing the echo of “love you too”

copyright © 2020 KPM

bottled up

quarantine: day 19

she gets up in total silence
before the sunrise
empty is the space beside her
unconsciously, she sighs

in the kitchen she stands at the window
her garden awaits the sun
she puts the kettle on
another morning of coffee for one

she has 2 cups of coffee
she has 2 cigarettes
showers, throws some clothes on
this is as good as it gets

in the living room
she overfeeds her fish
her mind is far away
her heart beats out a wish

the room fills with gray light
the sun has risen once more
the mantle clock ticks loudly
she longs for his knock at the door

copyright © 2020 KPM

 

as the storm approaches

everywhere I look
as far as my eyes can see
everywhere I look
there’s another memory

when the sun is hiding
when skies are fat with storm clouds gray
I remember all those summers
the tunes that we would play

something simple I’ll be doing
hoovering or mopping the floor
when – unexpectedly – I hear
your laughter at my door

I remember washing the car
while you drank beer on the deck
asleep, I often dream
of the taste of salt on your neck

I don’t know why I love you
I’m oft unsure if you love me
so far apart we are
love is futility

sometimes I wish I didn’t love you
I wish the past would set me free
but you’re the keeper of all my secrets
so I need you to love me

copyright © 2017 KPM

waitin’ for the mail

flawed I am
with a soul that’s scarred
it can’t be helped:
my life’s been hard

mistakes I’ve made
things I can’t take back
forgive me, forgive me not:
won’t live my life on the rack

cause I’m a lowly human
sometimes happy, often blue
just an ordinary woman
a lonely soul like you

doubts I have aplenty
things I wish I could forget
but my past is what made me
so that I’ll never regret

I’ve always felt like a stranger
living in a strange land
but I am older now,
so I don’t care if you don’t understand

cause I’m human
from my truths I’ll never flee
just a lowly human
& you’re no better than me

phone me, send an email
better still, write
words from you would mean so much
they’d illuminate my darkest night

you can call me selfish
say it’s the worst kind of greed
but your familiar handwriting
is the one thing I most need

I’m only human, baby
my heart’s not made of stone
just one more grieving human
don’t let me go through this alone

copyright © 2017 KPM

an accidental touch from a lonely man

there’s not much light
in the tiny, dusty store
illumination comes
through the propped-open door
but the location’s convenient –
it’s on her way
so she pops in
most every day

the man behind the counter
has a face of dusky stone
every day he’s there
every day he’s all alone
she often idly wonders
what he opens up for
seems like she’s the only one
to ever frequent his store

he follows her round the shop
this might fill her with unease
were it not so obvious
that he’s only trying to please
yet whenever she comes in
be it morning or end of day
he rewards her with a smile
in place of words he’s scared to say

“would you like a paper?
a small cake for after tea?
today crisps are on special –
two bags for 50p”
he smiles as he bags her purchases
a paper & chopped pineapple in a can
his callused fingers brushing
across the back of her hand

she’s startled by the contact
was it deliberate, that touch?
“get a grip,” she tells herself
“sometimes you think too much”
yet that hand feels warm all day
affecting her attention span
that accidental touch
from an old ‘n lonely man

copyright © 2014 KPM

lonelyoldman pic