smoky kisses

on days when life
leaves her a wreck
she remembers a cold
& rain-soaked deck
clasped hands put
reality in check
smoky kisses planted
against a lover’s neck

in his neck
is a throbbing vein
is that heartache –
his own private pain?
nothin’ to lose
& everything to gain
endless smoky kisses
in a cold summer rain

when guilt & regret
start to creep
when loneliness
prods her to weep
when thoughts grow
unbearably deep
the memory of smoky kisses
lulls her to sleep

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

a word from your sponsor

We’re four days into this New Year. The sky outside my living room window is grey and heavy with clouds; behind me, outside my kitchen window, the sky above my wee garden is that shade of blue that can only be found in Dundee, with shafts of bright sunlight illuminating the cloud shapes.

The flat is still and clean. I have the TV on for company. My fish swim gaily in their watery home, indifferent to the outside world. In keeping with my love of order, I cleaned the flat thoroughly the day after New Year’s, taking down all the Christmas decorations and storing them in the loft for another year (the tree came down on 30th December in keeping with my culture’s superstition that it is bad luck to leave the tree up into the New Year – if you leave it up, you’ll drag all the bad shit from the old year into the new year with you). I did allow myself two small indulgences: I decided this year to leave the Christmas wreath on my door until Epiphany, and I kept the poinsettia plant my partner gave me, as it’s still perfectly healthy and anyone who knows me knows I love plants.

I feel calm and peaceful…even happy, though I am still unemployed. Somehow, all the angst and anxiety and stress I felt over that situation has magically vanished. I continue to submit applications online, and I have two interviews scheduled over the next two weeks. Most importantly, realising that I have a wealth of skills, I made a huge leap and went into business for myself as a free-lance writer and editor. I have registered the business with HMRC and am joyously looking forward to receiving my first client.

This profound change in attitude and general outlook has been going on for a fortnight now. I don’t know where it came from – perhaps God has granted me His strength and His favour. I only know that I feel an unexplainable joy – I am certain that everything will soon be resolved for the good and for the first time in well over a decade, I am at peace with everything.

I wish all the followers of my blog a Happy New Year. May you all enjoy good health, the absence of monetary worries and much love.

With affection,




Lord, I’m tryin’ my best to pray
you know – my daily devotions
but I’m heartsick & I’m troubled
by too many emotions:
I feel sorrow & rage
loss, uncertainty & fear
what the hell is happenin’ here?

it’s apparent some folks
know not what they’re doin’
cuz hatred everywhere
is now spewin’
in America’s streets
the KKK dance with glee
while far away immigrants
fear for their family

Syria & Brexit
the Dakota pipeline
but the rich get richer,
which they think is just fine
meanwhile the poor & the middle class
doubt their vote, doubt their worth
since a psycho’s been elected president
of the most powerful nation on earth

folks are homeless, folks are hungry
recession has them in a hole
some have been made redundant,
forced to go on the dole
but still our so-called leaders
put on their X-Factor show
while the lines at the food bank continue to grow

they tell us to have courage
to be patient & wait
while thousands of confused children
line up at a border gate
have hope, the powerful tell us
they say all is not lost
but they’re safe in their mansions
shielded from the true human cost

I’m just one person
who knows not what to do
an ordinary person
strugglin’ daily just like you
a woman who loves & is loved
struggling to stay alive
who thinks we all need to be kinder
if mankind is to survive

copyright © 2016 KPM


atonement’s nightmare

on a dank, dark street corner
crowded with grimy buildings high
a dreamer stands uncertainly
beneath a threatening sky

shadow figures pass her
with casual malice they do stare
an evil wind spits gritty tears
that settles on her perfect hair

she can’t remember where she’s been
or where it is she’s going to
she thinks she’s meant to meet someone
though she’s not sure this is true

a drop of rain assaults her cheek
just before the man appears
with a cry, he clasps her knees
his upturned face is wet with tears

his voice reeks with anguish
as he recounts a hateful tale
of a love he did betray
and a woman he did fail

the dreamer is appalled
yet she is touched by his remorse
her kiss is a benediction
allowing nature to take its course

their bodies battle time
pores secreting bloody sweat
she seeks the one she loved & lost
he vainly tries to escape regret

a roar of thunder coincides
with an orgasm to shatter stone
and as the dreamer fades away
the man learns again he can never atone

copyright © 2014 KPM


before the storm

in vain I try to capture
the colour of the Dundee sky
but it’s dead hard to describe
this haunting hue that fills the eye

a mix of cerulean & jade
reminiscent of the Aegean Sea
that brings the taste of sun ‘n sweat
hurtling back to me

I struggle with my efforts
to paint with words the Dundee sky
my dictionary was nae help
nor was the thesaurus nearby

but in the end it does nae matter
this failure to capture what I see
for the colour of Dundee’s stormy sky
will always be a part of me

copyright © 2014 KPM

before the storm

you can’t go home again

Like a jerk, I went back to work after the funeral. I thought it might help…thought it might stop the anguished yelp that kept bursting forth from a throat that ached from too much crying. But it was naptime – the kids were all on their cots, asleep. So I crept into the stairwell, to sneak a smoke and weep.

Murray – the principal and my boss – found me sitting there. A lovely Jewish guy, both gentle and kind, he gently enquired, “Bubeleh, have you lost your mind? I know what you went through today. Is home you need to go – here you should not stay.”

Home? I thought as I drove out the school parking lot on auto-pilot. What home….the house on Milverton Street where we made love til you’d shout? Just a month ago I’d moved out.  My new place in Warrensville Heights? It was ruined – haunted by the memories of our last angry fights.

I was cryin’ so hard I could barely see. And the sun had come out, shinin’ on my misery.

My car drove itself down Harvard Avenue. It parked itself in the driveway of my parent’s house, the childhood home I hadn’t visited in years, not since that fight with Daddy that’d ended with a suitcase and tears.

I couldn’t get out of the car. I couldn’t get out of the car. I remembered my .22 was in the glove box.

I had to get out of the car.

I stood on the front porch of my childhood home. Rememberin’ playin’ jacks with my sisters on our scabby knees. Studyin’ for endless spelling bees. Barbie dolls with Eleanor an’ Trish. Starin’ at summer stars, makin’ wish after useless wish.

The front door was open. I peered through the rusted mesh of the screen door, determined to turn around and leave if I saw any sign of my father. But he wasn’t there…just  Ma, perched on the edge of the faded floral sofa, sewin’ buttons onto Daddy’s shirts while she watched the end of the afternoon soaps.

“Ma?” I called out as through the screen I peeked. I musta startled her – she leapt up an’ shrieked.

“Shit!” she swore, openin’ the door. “How long you bin standin’ there for? Wasn’t expectin’ no one today, an’ ain’t you sposed to be at work any way?”

“Ma,” I said. “Maaaaaaaaa…” My voice was a plaintive bleat. My eyes hollow holes of grief and defeat, I handed her the program from your funeral before falling, barely hearing my name, which she kept calling: “Kathy…Kathy. Oh Katherine, mah baby…” Pickin’ me up off the floor, sittin’ me on her lap as if I were four again (which is what I wanted her to do just then).

I cried and cried and cried and cried. And my mother (you do know she liked you ‘bout as much as your mother liked me?) stroked my hair and my cheeks as she sighed.

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

you can't go home again


up here my dear
dive in my eyes
the way is clear
join me on the roof
salvation is near
up here my dear

in here my dear
look in my eye
do you see a tear?
if you take my hand
will you feel fear?
in here my dear

space ain’t black, it’s green & beige
a pulsing place the colour of rage
& you ain’t gonna find a hero or a sage
out here

out here my dear
in the land of the mad
& the austere
where you can be crazy
any day of the year
out here my dear

copyright © 2014 KPM

atmosphere pic

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she seeks an end
to shattered dreams that endlessly bleed
assistance from any entity
who can help fulfill her need

she desires understanding
of the talent in her soul
a hand to lift her up
a noble work to make her whole

thus fearfully she waits
for blessings from the soothsayer
hoping for a positive answer
to her final desperate prayer

copyright © 2011-2014 KPM

application denied pic

shaker lake

one late summer evening
after washin’ the GTO
he casually suggests
they get in the car & go

“where we goin’?” she asks
he gives her hand a playful shake
squeezes her ass & says,
“let’s go down to Shaker Lake”

“I can get some beer & weed,
cuz I got a little money,
& we need the time alone,
please don’t say no, honey”

so down Fairmount they head
beneath the dusky sky
& she can barely breathe
aware of his hand on her thigh

down Fairmount he drives
past kids playin’ in their front yard
& she blushes as she thinks
of her nipples & how they’re hard

he makes a hasty stop
to get the beer & the weed
while she waits in the car
vulva throbbin’ with its need

he turns right offa Fairmount
the June night’s now fully dark
downshifts expertly
& beneath the trees they park

he kisses her
before they get out the car
her hand moves between his legs
his dick’s an iron bar

they stumble from the car
tightly clutching hands
her eyes alight with lust
his calves tightly wound rubber bands

in a safe secluded spot
he watches as she disrobes
grabbin’ her before she’s finished
& she delights in the tongue that probes

possessively he kisses her
hands movin’ restlessly thru her hair
they maul her breasts & belly
beneath the full moon’s glare

joyously she gives him everything
her heart & soul welcome the ache
she’s young, alive & loved
on the banks of Shaker Lake

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

shaker lake pic