Rocking with my Grandsons and daughter on a blessed spring morning. ❤️
It was a loaf of bread,
a gift of love.
She struggled to say,
it is all I have.
Times were hard,
her family at risk.
She came to dinner,
from a dark abyss.
Picked as a flower
from spring she left.
Stormed in the winds
and soon was adrift.
It was a loaf of bread,
it was all she had.
she asked please
take it; quietly cried.
Copyrighted: 2018 CMM Publishers
"Master, pity they servant ! He is deaf and 3 parts blind. He cannot catch thy commandments. He cannot read Thy mind. Oh, leave him not to his loneliness; nor make him thy kitten scorn. He hath none other God than Thee since the year that he was born . Lord look down on they servant! Bad things have come to pass. There is no heat in the mid-day sun, nor health in the way side grass. His bones are full of an old disease- his torments run and increase. Lord, make haste with thy lightenings and grant him quick release." —-Rudyard Kipling, ‘ His Apologies ‘ 1932
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
Screeching sounds of train breaks hollered through the phone,
wind and shuffling of feet, as the rumbling screamed
out again starting toward the next stop…
His voice strong and young through the phone spoke of his adventures.
Oh how he is following the many paths of his dreams; from one tale
to another he describes his life in the city…
Again, the sounds of another stop demanding the attention over the
noises around him crashing into the phone. He asks about his sister,
how she is, now that she is expecting?
His voice, even with the competition of the city sounds, is stronger
in nature and in tone than all the noises competing with his time on the phone,
joval he remarks, “She will be a great mom.”
Tenderly, he refers to his sister; again the train slams into another stop.
“Is this stop yours? “ his Mother asks “No Mom, “ he replied. “I won’t miss it.”
He then affirms his devotion to his sister.
“You know Mom, she has a great heart.” He said with a tender voice.
“I am so looking forward to meeting her baby.” He affirmed his expectations.
again the moment was taken over by a thunderous sounds.
All of a sudden the noise in the background became quiet. “Has the train stopped?”
His mother asked, realizing everything had gone quiet. “No, I got off at my stop.”
he responded with a clearer tone, no longer competing with the train.
“How far is your apartment?” his Mother asked, with the customary concern and worry.
“Only a couple of blocks Mom,” he reassured her. “Well, be aware of your surroundings,”
she replied with her normal worried tone.
“I know, and thank you.” His tone, equally smiling with the terms of acceptance over the years,
it was then, with his own great heart, he said, “Good Night.”
© CMM 2012
I sit before you all that I have,
It isn’t the coffee that is the gift,
It is the importance,
I sit before you and we drink,
Smelling the coffee,
Pour into the gift,
Of you and me,
I sit before you.
© CMM 2013