Wind
The wind whispers
Calling softly
Like a mistress
To her bed
Swaying branches
Dance as the storms
Tempo moves into
An Evening of mystery
copyright: 2019 CMM
Rain
It is the rain
Sweet sound
Gentle drops
Of morning
It is the rain
And it dismisses
The winter snow
The harsh ice
It is the rain
It is promise
Spring will be
Soon
copyrighted: 2019 CMM
Happy National Women’s Day
Please if you have time, read and share my publication for National Women’s Day
http://www.agathos-international-review.com/issue8_2/14.CHRISTINE%20McNEILL-MATTESON.pdf
Ash Wednesday
Silent prayer,
Read aloud,
Keeping me
in a spiritual shroud.
Ashes wet,
Incense burned
the blessing given,
the sacred urn.
Oh the swirling of deafness
Inside my head,
I did not hear
One prayer said.
I only heard your voice
In the songs,
the missing of you
where you once belonged…
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
I feel your presence
I feel your trust.
Read aloud,
Keeping me
in a spiritual shroud.
Ashes wet,
Incense burned
the blessing given,
the sacred urn.
Oh the swirling of deafness
Inside my head,
I did not hear
One prayer said.
I only heard your voice
In the songs,
the missing of you
where you once belonged…
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
I feel your presence
I feel your trust.
Christine McNeill-Matteson, copyright: 02/2015 Published by, Agathos International Review Humanities and Social Sciences,2069-1025 (Print); 2248-3446
Keats’s Rose
Picked among a garden, this one unique rose,
taken from green thorns, this flower she chose.
Sat upon his desk, and nurtured from stems,
drenched in water, a vase, looking back at him.
The secret of this rose was not from the attending.
The secret of its beauty was from its sending.
Beauty in its temporal form and in nature’s bloom,
eternal rose, deep within, nurtured to the tomb.
Revised 2019 CMM
Just Below the Surface
Just below the surface
laughter is a gift
a day of sunshine
a friend shared
a sister cared
I quietly rise
and in my chair
I think of things
and say my prayers
the flickering light
the quietness of morn
has washed over me
from others scorn
I look past time
and sense a grace
it is not mine
but, just below the surface
a tear wells up
I take a deep breath
look toward the flicker,
and pick up my coffee cup
Copyrighted: 2019 CMM
Eagle and Child Inkling 