Shakespeare and Days of Youth

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Perched below the shaded trees,
cools the sun’s luncheon rays.
Crossed in contemplation knees
are the enchanted Shakespeare days.

Tempered heat of springtime lawn

varid carpet lays beneath.
Lurching words without alarm,
bid from metamorphous sleep.

Anthony and Cleopatra fight,
as sonnets woo the lady’s fare.
Henry the IV comes from the night,
poets and lovers, a wispy pair.

The yeoman genius now buried in tomb,
leaves with the youth a place to learn.
While even when he left the room,
all other works are now discerned.

copyrighted:   2005
CMM

December 21st

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Winter’s gray and silver sky.

Pry upon my watchful eye,

as I see the sun go down

setting shadows on the ground.

Yet I know and then I hope

when darkness comes that I will cope

with the fact that this will be

0nly temporarily.

For after December 21st

the snow will come from winter’s burst.

The sun will once again begin to shine

taking up more of the time

of day to give back to me;

my longing sense of sanity…

Copyrighted:  2010 CMM

Sterile Winter’s Return

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Cold the sun

which days now come,

a frozen still breaths

a summer now done.

Barren limbs

widows time,

to watch and listen

a quiet sublime.

Oh, but the promise

of summer’s youth,

is lost among  dried

leaves now mute.

The wind, the breeze,

does not remain

as time has come,

winter’s season reclaimed.

©    CMM   2011

 

Building Dreams

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If you sit around doing nothing,

no one cares,

if you build a castle

the whole world

slithers into the base

and calls upon the tide

to destroy it…

It is then,

you call upon the winds

to change the tides,

and build

your fortress of

passion

into the anchors…

©  CMM   2012