Paul Andrew McKenna. I live in Birmingham, England. I am 39. I am a painter who loves composing music and writing poetry. I suffer from Buddhist inclinations and walk hills - When the knee permits. I eat spinach. By the plateful.


Remember the moment the kite-string snapped:

startled into heaviness, earth-bound,

hopeless of knowing the end

Copyright 2002 by Paul Andrew McKenna

Wherever holes may form

Like the poplars I loved and lost to the axe

I'd assumed they'd all gone,

red-knecked woodpeckers;

gone and left bloody big holes -

in the heart

in the sky

wherever holes may form.

But he's doing his thing in the fir

which I hate

but wouldn't cut down

because of my love for trees

Copyright 2002 by Paul Andrew McKenna

With Hell to pay, demented

With Hell to pay, demented,

unaccountably offshore

I love my fellow man -

skimming over years

skinning bones in crazy places

with not the buckets he needs for all his tears;

battered, stacked and suntanned,

slipping off the backs of stars

till blank in heart, toppled,

tipping over all his craft

he swims and flails, swims and flails.

Copyright 2002 by Paul Andrew McKenna