Daughters of Daughters
The afternoon,
rain drizzling, reflecting on glass.
Laughter covers the tears
echoing into the season
of the day.
Sponging into hopes
Daughters of daughters
Knowing without saying
Picking up the spoon
Offering a portion
It is at the table.
3 generations of women
Daughters of daughters
Draw strength.
Christine McNeill-Matteson
The saints woke,
Walking to their place of meditation
They lift their heads and kneel.
Remembering the prayers of the faithful
Their voices go to the ears of angels.
And ride the wings into the heavens.
Where miracles abide and worries subside
The dance of the prayers of the saints.
Christine McNeill-Matteson
copyrighted 2023
I hope I will always wake in tulip sunshine
among the fragrance of green grass
growing near flowing rivers
while breakfast sizzles in
cast iron skillets
with biscuits
on cobalt
blue
plates.
If this
goes away
in my memory
and leaves me for
another day in changed
places, I want to still wake
in tulip sunrise and still smell
the coffee brew to another time but let
not the reciting bobwhites forget to sound; so I will always remember.
copyright: CMM 2005
Hi, my name is Snuggles. I am best friends with a little girl named Aurora Leigh. You might think I am talking about “Aurora Leigh,” the long prose written by Elizabeth Browning. If you were, you were wrong, she was named by her Mother and remembering Elizabeth Browning’s work.
Anyway , this is not about her, but about ‘Snuggles, traveling companion and confident. I met Aurora Leigh just shortly after she was born, and we have been close ever since.
So, stay tune, there are a lot of adventures I want to share. We will be back.
Celtic Green
If you are looking for gossip,
You have come to the wrong field.
We stand among the grass
The goats are quiet and still.
Gray and blue sky hangs just above.
A Celtic Mom and her daughter share love
Wisdom between them comes from the strife.
They bring generations of Maternal life.
Around them their ancestry stops to listen
The children although playing still pay attention.
The women before them flow through their veins
It is why they are , who they became.
Copyrighted: CMM.
What would we have done without Dr. Seuss,
his clever rhyming his cats and his goose.
It puts wonder on faces of all ages.
As we turn and look at the colorful pages.
I have his books, he gave to us all
“The Cat and the Hat,” made us feel so tall.
As he wondered throughout our imagination
The young and the old; a fond education.
copyright: CMM
Keats spoke of a rose and how it would not wilt.
This rose came only once and was not made of silk.
PIcked among a garden this one unique rose,
taken from the thorns, this flower she chose.
Sat upon his desk, and nurtured from the stems,
drenched in water, cut in a vase, and looking back at him.
He called the rose loveliest of any in his fences,
this rose compared to others, they had no defenses.
However the secret of this rose was not from one attending.
The secret of its beauty was truly from its sending.
This rose he said was more because a friend gave way,
now the beauty of the perfect rose was given to him today.
Swelling powdered scents flowed in the house and settled,
crimson velvet sculptured rose, green stem among the petals.
Beauty in its temporal form in nature’s moment bloomed,
eternal rose, deep within was nurtured to the tomb.
copyrighted: © CMM 2004
I climbed each step as if to say
I have volunteered to
Set my journey on this quest
I step each step to do my best
The wind picks up and starts,
It wraps my scarf in separate parts
I hold it as if to say
Turn on wind, I am here to stay.
Blowing warmly on my face
Across the walk I finally turn
Down the walk I smile to know
I have made it this far, however slow.
CMM. copyrighted: 2023
Eagle and Child Inkling 
