I’m all Kondo’d out;
Back to shoving everything
In drawers again.
Skat@2022
New Year
Seasonal Disorder
In January,
Stores break out the Valentines;
Mine’s* still on Christmas!
Skat@2022
*colloquial for my house
FML
Up at four-thirty,
Cup of tea to clear my head—
Bloody cats want fed
Skat@2022
Another Year
Waiting for boosters;
Birds roost outside my window
(Reading Proust (I lie)).
skat@2022
New Year’s Peeve
Covid stress, sees me
Experience the “heartbreak
Of psoriasis”.
Skat@2021
The Last Robin
hints of rust-red breast
beneath willow’s branches, won’t
be seen again ’til
winter appears to release
its cold grip, come the new year.
skat@2017
Rebooked
Epic tomes* await
their annual homes on my
resolution slate.
skat @ 2016
*Once again, I challenge myself to read, Tolstoy’s ANNA KARENINA and James Joyce’s ULYSSES. This year, I’m starting with 10 pages per day. That’s got to work, right?
16/17
Don’t like to plead, but
No one came around to read
My new year’s poem.
skat @ 2016
Father Time Goes On
This year
Father Time keeps his distance.
He’s perched Buddha-style,
high atop a volcano,
somewhere far away.
He’s checking his heavy
pocket-watch regularly,
and listening to Big Ben
with his bionic ear.
He has the fear.
Somehow, he’s let it all
spin out of control:
no more, can he hold on
to the wheels
with mechanical implements-
the ones that keep us on
an even keel.
Other forces, are working now
and his grip is slipping.
Up on his precipice
as the world whirls,
he blinks at some midnight sun,
then turns his back …
and runs.
Kathleen Mortensen © 2016
If you like this poem, search my “Father Time” posts from past years at kat5361.wordpress.com
Your Number Is Up
This is the last time
I sign off with a sixteen
Unless I forget. 😉
skat@2016
Happy New Year to all my followers and the wonderful friends I have met here on WordPress! I appreciate you all immensely.
Kat Mortensen
3-5-3, 3-7-5 