Month: December 2013

Tick, ticking striking out of the past,
no one hears the silent sounds

of the before, setting tones of today.

Hushed noised of the irreversible day,
passable times of yore,
left only in forgotten memory.

Cobwebbed shelves building into
the minds of the ones left behind,
to sustain the awareness of time.

Rhythm, slow ticking, echoes loudly
as dusty sounds of a year
stored in moth scented rooms of the past.

Tones of hours, twisted,
tenor of richness strikes the dome
of pendulums’ sounds.

Wound springs of life, unwinding
movements in celebration of life
and the poignant tones of death.

The world evolves, revolves,
the clock ticks winding its hours
tightly around the past.

Irreversible paradox of beginnings
going toward the endings,
reaching into uncertainty.

copyrighted: CMM 2004-2005

Screeching sounds of train breaks hollered through the phone,

wind and shuffling of feet, as the rumbling screamed

out again starting toward the next stop…

His voice strong and young through the phone spoke of his adventures.

Oh how he is following the many paths of his dreams; from one tale

to another he describes his life in the city…

Again, the sounds of another stop demanding the attention over the

noises around him crashing into the phone.  He asks about his sister,

how she is, now that she is expecting?

His voice, even with the competition of the city sounds, is stronger

in nature and in tone than all the noises competing with his time on the phone,

joval he remarks, “She will be a great mom.”

Tenderly, he refers to his sister; again the train slams into another stop.

“Is this stop yours? “ his Mother asks  “No Mom, “ he replied.  “I won’t miss it.”

He then affirms his devotion to his sister.

“You know Mom, she has a great heart.”  He said with a tender voice.

“I am so looking forward to meeting her baby.” He affirmed his expectations.

again the moment was taken over by a thunderous sounds.

All of a sudden the noise in the background became quiet.  “Has the train stopped?”

His mother asked, realizing everything had gone quiet.  “No, I got off at my stop.”

he responded with a clearer tone, no longer competing with the train.

“How far is your apartment?”  his Mother asked, with the customary concern and worry.

“Only a couple of blocks Mom,” he reassured her.  “Well, be aware of your surroundings,”

she replied with her normal worried tone.

“I worry you know,” she tried to say with a smile in her voice.

“I know, and thank you.”  His tone, equally smiling with the terms of acceptance over the years,

it was then, with his own great heart, he said, “Good Night.”

©   CMM   2012

Brown aroma filters through

the porcelain pot wrapped in

a  holiday Christmas print

Tea covey placed around,

Tied at the top with a green ribbon.

Pouring into the cup the sound

of generations past of many pourings,

expressed  within generations,

a knowing of shared time.

The warmth of the spiced tea

brings smiles caused by conversations,

of simpler  relationships in an eloquent

fluent exchange of Christmas gentility

Christmas 2013  ©   CMM

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