I wrote a poem yesterday,
I don’t remember the words
Or what it had to say.
I scribbled it and jotted down
upon old paper
I picked off the ground
Writing quickly so not to forget
It came flowing
The sonnet set.
I found a place
Behind the books
Stuffed it where no others look
Later I promised I would read
The poem of the heart
A now forgotten seed.
© CMM 2012
Witches and apples, fallen leaves and rot,
Has come to this the Hallow night of
full moon with goblins and steamy pots.
Shadows in night that pass among trees
of little costumes of scary ghost among
dressed up monsters of make believes…
An eve of frightening rituals
where all one’s fears are mimicked and mocked
with humor and timeless habituals.
So call on All Saints , who listen this night,
as the children grow tired from the cold dark streets,
and guard them home safely from the eve of fright.
© CMM 2013