I remember the dirt drive laden in gravel just
off the main asphalt country road.
named after generations of people,
who came before me;
We called family.
I wonder how many trips were
taken in and out,
and for what reasons
as we came and went to this place;
we called home.
Generations of successors grounded
into the beginnings of a southern family.
Two world wars and aromas in the kitchen
with Sunday afternoon get-togethers;
everybody knew everybody
An echo of memories sounds into the tomorrows,
old becomes new and the new often forgetting
the once was, just off the gravel road
leading back to the circled drive grounded into a name;
for generations now forgotten.
© CMM 2008
Ash, fallen losing its form,
drifting to places—
Places once given to life
now void in the body.
Blemished leavings of
perfect love and life—
Spent time, celebrations
now void in the mind.
to awareness made up
of dreams and hopes,
now void in the soul.
The ticking of the clock,
the clanging echoing,
noises made in the senses,
now void in the hearing.
Spoken words of promise
of heart felt memories
devoted love forever—
now void in heart.
We have heard many
warnings, sounding often
in the distance, never noticed—
until we hear the ringing.
Echo without vibrations,
muted sounds, never heard; but felt.
copyrighted: CMM 2002
I talk myself into my run
one foot in front of the other
climbing upwards challenged
laboring a little
just enough to remind me
I pass birds calling
aged trees standing still
among the wood line
while wild brown-eyed susans
wink in sway with a soft wind
a wind I need to release me
I do not stop until the trail ends
Smoked-filled room, choke the senses,
tenant’s visits heightens defenses.
Buried emotions, snuffed stale air,
vacant expressions with sunken stares.
All who come to the evening tomb,
cloud their lives within the room.
Clinking of glasses the flame of the lighter,
two strangers meet, become one-niters.
Reaching from trust now long failed,
hopes wrapped up now kept and jailed.
Speaking present, the buried past,
masking in drinks, in hopes it will last.
Long enough to help forget,
strangers, soon lovers, talk and sit.
She now with her tinted hair light,
sits as he listens throughout the night.
Each one look for their night of need,
knowing dawn their guilt will breed.
A different loss, a hollow space,
another night to seek; erase.
© CMM 2000