wish I may, wish I might

wanna be a tropical fish
in a large luxurious tank
with no worries about payin’ bills
when funds are dwindlin’ in the bank

makes sense to me – I love the water
in this wet world I would play
chasin’ guppies & neons
in jerky circles all day

my owner would be kind
my tank she’d decorate
she’d leave the tank’s light on
til it was very late

every other day I’d dine
on different kinds of food:
Aquarian flakes or micro granules
frozen bloodworms to be pursued

yeah, sounds good to me:
a beautiful fish in a tropical tank
until the alarm clock rings
‘n from this lovely dream I’m yanked

copyright © 2020 KPM

the finger

folks like me
we get disparaged
folks like me
we get mocked
folks like me
are viewed as suspect
on Facebook we get blocked

folks like me
we get ignored
to the other side we get shunted
folks like me
are viewed as “traitors”
by our governments
we’re hunted

but folks like me
can’t be persuaded
we’re not that easily dissuaded
folks like me know the difference
between right ‘n wrong
folks like me say fuck you
in the end, you’ll join our song

copyright © 2020 KPM

observant skies

from the tops of old buildings
mossy gargoyles grin down
graffiti on the sides of fences
head constantly swivelling round

old finials and spires
mix with ancient weather vanes
hills in different shades of green
house heather borne of cold spring rains

she walks the cement pavements
tap-taps on cobblestone
followed only by the shadows
in a town where the sun once shone

copyright © 2020 KPM

angel feathers

in my wee Dundee back garden
angel feathers lie scattered
freed from my mother’s wings
hope on days when I’m just shattered

she sees me when I watch the news
observes the way I weep
she watches me pray for peace
each night before I sleep

she’s sitting on my shoulder
with every poem I write
her love is always with me
every day, every night

so many angel feathers
in my wee garden in Dundee
a welcome sign that the Mom I miss
keeps her loving eyes on me

copyright © 2020 KPM

past the breaking point

my watch must be broken –
is it really just two o’clock?
was the weather forecast right,
the front door – is it locked?

sunshine toasts my skin
it’s baked a golden hue
a colour seen as threatening
small wonder I feel so blue

‘s bad enough to be in lockdown
virus lurking outside the door
since the ghosts have shed their sheets
hatred multiplies by the score

I’m mad, I’m sad, I’m worried
filled with dread when I think of November
best to give my fears to God
try to enjoy what’s left of September

copyright © 2020 KPM

gone (top floor boyz 2)

where’d they go,
those top floor boyz,
who used to watch me in the garden?
the smiles ‘n shouts they sent through lockdown
helped a scared heart not to harden

so sad,
I never learned their names
they’d laugh when I would ask
yet they were present every day
overseeing each green task

what happened to
those top floor boyz?
who so cheekily would flirt
while I pulled weeds in the garden
or dug holes in the dirt

where’ve they gone?
are they hiding?
have they gone on holiday?
their crowded windowsills are now empty –
sure hope they haven’t moved away

young boyz,
they were social
mates in every Friday night
smoke clouds waftin’ from their window
as I sipped wine by sunset’s light

guess my top floor boyz
are gone now
‘n though I wish them well
I miss those smiles – I feel abandoned
left alone in lockdown hell

copyright © 2020 KPM

gone

imperfections

despite the faults
she loves it
it matters not at all
the outdated porcelain tub
the faded light shade in the hall

she’s not bothered by
the kitchen floor
that tilts just a tiny bit
‘n the small crack in the bedroom ceiling
troubles her not one whit

every day
she laughs
when the closet door gets stuck
knowing she’d be on the streets
were it not for prayer & luck

life – like people
is not perfect
this is why she does not care
cuz nothing’s guaranteed
imperfections are everywhere

copyright © 2020 KPM

 

safety net

see, the thing about the keys
they symbolize ease

4 tiny tarnished tools
granting entry to the castle
low lights, high plants
escape from noise & hassle

items meant to be used
when heart & mind feel bruised

African statues to fondle
graduation gift from her brother
a now old & faded sweatshirt
mailed with love by her mother

a place with high-ceilinged halls
memory-covered walls

rooms lived in alone
sometimes shared with friends
wide windows to gaze out from
as each day starts & ends

copyright © 2020 KPM

torn

worldwide, folks are watching
the chaotic descent of the US of A
& I weep as I watch with them
from my couch in Scotland, UK

like Bruce Springsteen, I was proud
to be born in the USA
now, fake news & a fake president
have swept that pride away

Scotland – though she’s better
remains a part of the UK
a watcher unable to help
as rights & fairness are eroded away

the relationship between the two countries
is intricate & intertwined
a global pandemic, enduring racism
both sides with people who act unkind

the pollution of hate & division
mar both countries’ skies so blue
I feel angry – helpless – scared
there is nothing I can do

my Stateside friends all ask me:
“why do you still care?
you don’t live here anymore –
you live waay over there!”

my Scottish friends all tell me:
“yeah, seems your government’s been overthrown
but why should that trouble you,
when Scotland accepts you as her own!”

I have good answers to both questions
they’re too lengthy to list here
but my answers are not solutions
hence the reason for my fear

I remain torn between two countries
two lands beset by strife
fear, hope, & endless prayer
is the reality of this immigrant’s life

copyright © 2020 KPM

just wanna stay in my bubble

it’s a good start to the morning
silky scented shower gel
bubbles that bathe my weary body
I face a new day of “new normal” hell

a squeeze of the Fairy bottle
prior to doin’ the breakfast dishes
sends tiny bubbles flyin’
like renewed childhood wishes

outdoors in the garden
red watering can tops up the pond
rainbow bubbles float on the surface
blue tits joyously respond

& at day’s end there’s Prosecco
dancin’ bubbles in crystal glass
alcoholic reassurance
that this too shall one day pass

copyright © 2020 KPM

Just wanna stay in my bubble