almost like normal

rising to an alarm
just like in the old days
waiting for the kettle to boil
morning sky’s a cloudy haze

gazing out at the garden
framed by lace & voile
drops of dew that dance on grass
before sinking into the soil

rubbing tiny crusts of sleep
from near-sighted eyes
loving that first cup of coffee
noisily the bacon fries

so comforting, it is
the return of this routine
it’s almost like the old days
peaceful weekday morning scene

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my splendid solitude

time to get comfy now:
remove the earrings, the socks, the bra
gonna go play with the blender
make somethin’ that needs a fancy straw

got movie munchies in the fridge:
prawns, olives, brie, paté
new batteries in all the remotes
I’ll watch movies for the rest of the day

think I want some hot food, too
perhaps some Chinese chicken wings
no need to cook from scratch
when there’s a freezer fulla things

oven set to 180c
bakin’ evenly, cookin’ steady
pillows ‘n blanket on the couch
‘s Sunday evenin’ – I’m so ready

all alone yet not lonely
I’m no “spinster” – no old crone
I think of myself as lucky
despite a lockdown spent alone

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stages

where is he now,
she wonders
the first boy who kissed her cheek?
they were five
so unsuspecting
of the havoc that kiss would wreak

‘n whatever
happened to
the first boy who carried her books?
so brave,
with his steamed-up glasses
blue plaid coat with metal hooks

she always smiles
when she remembers
the boy whose virginity she took
those lustful
teenaged kisses
his shocked, delighted look

never
has she forgotten
the boy who played the biggest part
her first passion
her first real love
the boy who left ‘n broke her heart

lovers
husbands, toy-boys
some would say a life of sin
she offers
no apologies
for the life lived way back when

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habitual solutions

she does her best
to come to grips with this pandemic
so she’s developed 2 new habits
now second nature – endemic

once a devotee
of total silence
now she finds she needs noise
else her thoughts turn violence

when she first awakens
she needs to hear another’s voice
certain movies work quite well
some films just make her heart rejoice

she needs loud music
old rock ‘n roll works best
she can close her eyes ‘n dance
in time with the heartbeat in her breast

then there are the days
when the black dog is near
sucking the air from the room
staring at her with a hateful leer

days when she’s so depressed
she can’t bear any sound
beneath the duvet she hides
she’s safe here, underground

copyright © 2020 KPM

observation

so nice
choppin’ veg
makin’ dinner for two
rain just startin’ to fall
sky her favourite shade of blue

it’s fun
yellin’ to him
from the other room
love lives in the “uh huh”
that splits the evening gloom

the joy
of watchin’ him read
as he sips that 2nd beer
though the world remains in lockdown
she’s not alone – he’s still here

best of all
is anticipatin’
climbin’ into bed
darkness hugs them both
as they lie nestled head to head

copyright © 2020 KPM

 

walls

she likes most music
(though she don’t like Elvis)
give her rap
rock
jazz
tunes that make her shake her pelvis

she likes to eat
you know she loves her food
Chinese
Greek
Polish
put her belly in a good mood

she loves movies
different accents, different faces
French
Indian
South Korean
tales from far-off places

she chats with strangers:
saying “educate me”
Asians
Germans
Sikhs & Muslims
in search of commonality

in her garden she likes to sit
where aromatic colours breed
embraced by concrete
iron &
stone
garden walls: only walls she’ll ever need

copyright © 2020 KPM

please observe the speed limit

these days
all her thoughts
are runaway trains
destination
nightmarish plains

reflections speeding
with a will
of their own
stopping at stations
largely unknown

the engine
struggles to pull
numerous cars
overloaded
with uncounted scars

a locomotive
barrelling
down a dull track
unable to reverse
no way to turn back

copyright © 2020 KPM

dancing on Sunday

she remembers a Sunday
not long past
when she danced to music
loud & fast
songs that cheered her
the music of her youth
back in the days when musical idols
always sang the truth

she remembers how
the sun shone on that Sunday
as she danced in her garden
to keep depression at bay
dancing barefoot on grass
covered in Scottish pigeon shit
all alone she danced
caring not one whit

she danced & she sang
on her small patch of earth
battling her grief & her demons
with all she was worth
she spun remembering
basement parties
the smell of sweat & weed
plates piled with food so hearty

current times may be uncertain
lockdown an unwelcome curse
yet she dances in her garden
reminding herself things could be worse
despite those days when depression
plunges her into a dive
she’s not homeless, she is healthy
the people she loves are still alive

copyright © 2020 KPM

blues for Mumma Kathy

well this mornin’ I wuz baffled
but I ain’t yet beaten
said this mornin’ I wuz baffled
but I ain’t yet beaten
least mah belly’s warm ‘n full
cause mah breakfast I’ve just eaten

the walk to work was chilly
crackling ice along the street
yeah, the walk to work was chilly
ice crackin’ all along the street
I’m holdin’ on to thoughts of home
& fuzzy slippers on mah feet

my heartbeat has slowed
gone is the feeling of dread
hands have stopped their shaking
just from picturin’ mah bed
I can see my cosy kitchen
smell the coffee & warm bread
& when mah man shows up on Friday
that black dog will have fled

well this mornin’ I wuz baffled
but I ain’t gone give up yet
yeah, this mornin’ I wuz baffled
but I ain’t gone give up yet
cuz mah man’ll be here Friday,
he’ll hug me tight & I’ll forget

copyright © 2020 KPM