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 CMM
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
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)
A voice so loud, I do remember,
Early evening, in late December
“Ho ho ho”, with a thunderous caugh,
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
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.
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
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,
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
Christmas lights flicker
into colors, green and red.
The silence of the season
hangs in what is not said.
It 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
I turn to see a shoe I missed
It was my Mother’s slippers
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
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.
copyrighted: 2012
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
