Month: October 2023

Is the night of ghost and goblins?

near as frightful as the days.

coming from the battled streets,

crying from the warrior’s haze.

Crisp the humid fallen golden,

tis moist and wetting dew.

Comes the flowing ghost and goblins.

hallooing from behind the stew.

Yet the truth be more the scarier

dying souls of sand pit graves.

Hence, we need to be more mindful.

battling through mayhem waves.

Yes, this season of the Hallow,

souls and saints remembered here.

While the innocent still living,

live within the streets of fear.

Pray the saints we beckon this,

a night of memory, night of fright.

Soon the only horror faced,

is just the tales of all hallows night.

copyrighted: 2004 CMM.

Give them out for all.

Set them next to the children.

To listen as they call.

Lead them from the rubble.

Protect them from the fear.

Of fires and loud noises

As nighttime draws them near

Go gather all the dragons.

Herd them toward the child

Bring them back to safety.

So, we can sit a while.

I will clean the mud from war.

Wash the dry crusted tears.

Read you of the green dragon.

Who promised you no more fears?

copyright: CMM. 2023

when the bow breaks

we will all know

the trees are now rotten

the grass does not grow

birds will stop singing

the lion’s unrest

will roar into nothing

we all will be his guest.

 Authored:    CMM copyrighted: 2023

Autumn’s gifts fall from the trees

among the gnarled branches.

A runner sets footing in the trail

knowing she takes chances.

there awaits the squirrels surprise

it hides among the trees,

to see the runners near demise,

as footing slips among the leaves.

copyrighted: 2023 CMM

I drove up to the ‘drive through’ for coffee

As I sat to order, in flew a ‘white tail hawk’,

I interrupted my order with a “Woah,” to see,

A huge magnificent bird looking back at me.

When I was done, and ordered placed,

It looked twice in my face and off it flew.

I wondered , was it something I said,

or did it not like my cold brew?

copyrighted: CMM. 2023

I roll the dough between my hands

The crumbs drop off into the pan.

I was drawn to a kitchen from long ago

My Scottish Grandma , I remember so.

Hands with a dish towel she rang ,

I remember how often she sang.

Amazing Grace, she chorused the home.

Scottish aired from her among the scones.

The whirl of the smell drifted toward me.

I in my memory can still see .

©️CMM 2023

Damp, cool autumn wakes.

as the apples drop,

sunset shades are pulled just

before the clock can change.

The aroma of the apples

crisping from cinnamon

as the butter browns just in time

to take them out to serve.

Celebration of the season

seems sweeter from a hard summer.

CMM. 2023