A New Year


The crystal clings. with toast of things, remembered from the year.

The wine pours red and we nod our head to loved ones, we hold dear.

A kiss held softly an embrace held tightly, all to say, ‘I love you.’

The moment of kindness of auld lang syne, with feelings of old and new.

Embrace the old man who now lifts his staff among the stars of time…

We pray to the mystery of luck and fortune let’s sing to auld lang syne.

 

copyrighted:  2011 CMMimg_4953

Last Ride


I pulled aside upon my path

my kickstand now down…

The wheels that turned for so long,

Now stays upon the ground…

The wind has changed and now still,

The grass no longer green

the last ride has been complete

the rider no longer seen…

I have stopped for the last time

and pause to say good-bye

I hope to see you on the trail

somewhere on the other side…

Copyright:  CMM  2011

Dedicated to a friend who lost his battle with Mesothelioma

Journeyers


I see the Flicker of the fire

and lean into its warmth

as silence grows around the room 

and I am left to remember.

The journeyers through my life,

friends who take a part of themselves 

and place it in my hand 

I lift it into my soul,

the gift soon a part of me.

As I read or listen and absorb

their spirit given away

parts of the journeyers now stays.

Copyrighted:  2016 CMM

(Dedicated to the friends near and far and some who have journeyed on to the other side)

Santa Came Too Soon


A voice so loud, I do remember,

 

Early evening, in late December

 

“Ho ho ho”, with a thunderous caugh,

img_2304

Waking from slumber, we began to laugh.

 

Why was he here and we not asleep?

 

As our grandfather yelled, “kids come take a peep.”

 

“It looks as though Santa has come too soon,

 

You are awake and giggling in your room.”

 

We tip toed and peered around the hall to see,

 

a bearded man, red suit, looking back at me.

 

“Ho Ho Ho”, he winked and continued to sound.

 

“You are awake and wide eyed, I have found.”

 

We stood there in awe, and not a word said,

 

He hugged us, “Now get back to your bed.”

 

I remember the night, Santa came too soon.

 

As I tried to fall asleep, that night in my room.

 

Copyrighted:  2016 CMM

 

The Gift


I remember the little white package.

It was a rippled red ribbon so neatly tied.

Crossbow over the square gift.

Placed just under the 3 ft. Christmas Tree.img_2329

Set on a table with white cotton tree skirt.

“It’s not much,” she would say.

“Oh, Grandma, anything you give is always too

much.”

We would smile as her trembling hands reached for the gift.

“Thank you Grandma,” as we opened the gift gingerly.

There in the little gift was a pair of sheer stockings.

“Grandma, how did you know, this is just what I needed.”

She would smile delightfully with light behind her blue eyes.

You see, the gift of love was one she could not wrap in paper.

The caring hands were never measured by a moment.

Her memory is not in just one generation, but many.

Her gift, I treasure, it was the gift of love left lingering.

Copyrighted: December 2016  CMM

Walked Among the Woods


I looked past the window pane and saw the gray bleak sky,

and felt the chill left in the house where all the quiet abides.

I’m not sure which bird I heard but off in distance it sings,450c8ca1-e7b9-43e3-ad55-e1a7474cf539

And I listen until the quiet resumes, then hear him once again.

Ice has passed and snow’s to come, blanketing frozen ground,

as I walked among the woods a breaking crunching sound

of frozen earth reminds me of the labored year has passed.

We look for good news to come, and hope that will surpass.

This hope was birthed among the timbers and quiet baby born,

yet the world goes on the same, even after Christmas morn.

Listen, as the year ends, Father times bids us farewell,

while the story remains anew among the promised tale

of birth and baby, poverty persist and still it overcomes,

rage and war and even death as life brought by a son.

Copyrighted:  CMM  2008

Missing Christmas


Christmas lights flicker

   into colors, green and red.

The silence of the season

   hangs in what is not said.

img_9294It is the knowing you are not here

   your smile I miss the most,

The quiet way you made it so

   a holiday Christmas toast.

I will miss our first Christmas

   with you not around.

I will miss all the other Christmas’

    in memory do resound.

Copyrighted:  2011 CMM

Mom’s Slippers


I turn to see a shoe I missed

It was my Mother’s slippersimg_4005

I thought I could climb the stairs

with even sounds of flippers.

I stepped into the stairway 

and much to my surprise.

I lost the one, kept the other

I felt it gone and realized 

I still had one on the other foot

and that was ok you see.

I will continue on in venture 

carrying my mother’s shoe with me.

So such is life in little things 

our children do take with him.

The climb the shoe and little

one too and leave a shoe with them.

©   CMM  2015

Women Before


If I could pick up the pieces

and build a bridge from me to you, 

we’d brush our hair with scents of yesterday’s living,

color our lips with stains of mauve secrets.

There would be miles of many years,

across miles of tears and sacred truths. 

We’d hang the railings with aprons tied together,

and our bras that covered our bosoms of nurturing souls.

Bridging over rivers from birthing beds wet with sweat and fluids from the womb, 

we would cry the storms with tears of sorrow, spring rains with tears of joy.

If I could pick the pieces of all our pain and build the hopes with the strength remain,

we would hear the chorus of all before us and harmony welcome  those to come.

Waterlogue 1.1.2 (1.1.2003) Preset Style = Illustration Format = Medium Format Margin = None Format Border = Straight Drawing = Technical Pen Drawing Weight = Light Drawing Detail = Medium Paint = Natural Paint Lightness = Normal Paint Intensity = More Water = Tap Water Water Edges = Medium Water Bleed = Average Brush = Natural Detail Brush Focus = Everything Brush Spacing = Medium Paper = Watercolor Paper Texture = Medium Paper Shading = Light

copyrighted:  2012

Mom’s Christmas


Mom, I wonder if you see the star,

one promised long ago.

Is it brighter from time passed

with a constant glow.

Are you closer to the cradle,

of which no time can rot,

This manger scene, of babe

and birth that never is forgotten.

If in heaven you get to see

all the wonders of that night.

I see your smile in all we love,

and I know you are alright.

© CMM  Christmas 2011

Mother's Christmas

Mother’s Christmas