Oh, but the heart that has labored love
in laced valentine’s of past.
Cutting out the ribbons of red,
to give in hopes that love will last.
The confectionaries create their wares
and boxed in all heart’s and sizes.
As anticipation builds in
the expectant heart she prizes.
The day will wear and waiting passes.
How will the promise come?
The time for many and then a few
but, from the hopeful one?
© CMM 2012
circles and rhytmns
time pushes out
round and round
decays of lies
placed in forgotten
rings of covered maskings
and the circles and rhythms
continue on,
growing into to a stump
to cut into history
rediscovering it still
exist…
copyrighted: 2017
Rushing
towards me in rhythm
pushing, pulling in tides
of undertow and strong currents.
I rest, for the tides of my soul
are brought into the life of the sea.
Copyrighted: CMM 2011
Opening day, it’s now time to play, the game found in cornfields and parks.
American way, a game that will stay, the home run you want before dark.
Hammering’ Hank, Mickey, the Yankee Clipper, Smokey Joe, and all the greats,
brings every little boy hopes and dreams as he enters for the first time their gates.
DiMaggio and Galvin echoes at the bat as America starts the baseball season’s fun.
Major Leagues, Minors, town teams and little leagues all strive for the famous home run.
A moment of summer in sweltering heat, the sun changes position at your back,
Let’s cheer our team and share a time of America with peanuts in a paper sack.
One, Two, Three Strikes “You’re Out”,they yell as another approaches the bat.
Root toot, toot for the home team, as the dust cloud forms at the mat…
copyrighted: 2001 CMM
In Honor of Martin Luther King Day,
It was just a drop.
“What drop?”
“You know the drop.”
“Tell me, but first tell me why?”
“Why?” “We cried.”
“Because of the drop.”
“What drop!?”
“One who humanity denied.”
“Because, it was a drop.”
“Because of the drop?”
“The brown paper bag.”
“Matched the drop they denied.”
“But, we still cried.”
“We still cry.”
“Each time they deny.”
Copyrighted: 2016 CMM
The crystal clings. with toast of things, remembered from the year.
The wine pours red and we nod our head to loved ones, we hold dear.
A kiss held softly an embrace held tightly, all to say, ‘I love you.’
The moment of kindness of auld lang syne, with feelings of old and new.
Embrace the old man who now lifts his staff among the stars of time…
We pray to the mystery of luck and fortune let’s sing to auld lang syne.
copyrighted: 2011 CMM
I pulled aside upon my path
my kickstand now down…
The wheels that turned for so long,
Now stays upon the ground…
The wind has changed and now still,
The grass no longer green
the last ride has been complete
the rider no longer seen…
I have stopped for the last time
and pause to say good-bye
I hope to see you on the trail
somewhere on the other side…
Copyright: CMM 2011
Dedicated to a friend who lost his battle with Mesothelioma
I see the Flicker of the fire
and lean into its warmth
as silence grows around the room
and I am left to remember.
The journeyers through my life,
friends who take a part of themselves
and place it in my hand
I lift it into my soul,
the gift soon a part of me.
As I read or listen and absorb
their spirit given away
parts of the journeyers now stays.
Copyrighted: 2016 CMM
(Dedicated to the friends near and far and some who have journeyed on to the other side)
A voice so loud, I do remember,
Early evening, in late December
“Ho ho ho”, with a thunderous caugh,
Waking from slumber, we began to laugh.
Why was he here and we not asleep?
As our grandfather yelled, “kids come take a peep.”
“It looks as though Santa has come too soon,
You are awake and giggling in your room.”
We tip toed and peered around the hall to see,
a bearded man, red suit, looking back at me.
“Ho Ho Ho”, he winked and continued to sound.
“You are awake and wide eyed, I have found.”
We stood there in awe, and not a word said,
He hugged us, “Now get back to your bed.”
I remember the night, Santa came too soon.
As I tried to fall asleep, that night in my room.
Copyrighted: 2016 CMM
I remember the little white package.
It was a rippled red ribbon so neatly tied.
Crossbow over the square gift.
Placed just under the 3 ft. Christmas Tree.
Set on a table with white cotton tree skirt.
“It’s not much,” she would say.
“Oh, Grandma, anything you give is always too
much.”
We would smile as her trembling hands reached for the gift.
“Thank you Grandma,” as we opened the gift gingerly.
There in the little gift was a pair of sheer stockings.
“Grandma, how did you know, this is just what I needed.”
She would smile delightfully with light behind her blue eyes.
You see, the gift of love was one she could not wrap in paper.
The caring hands were never measured by a moment.
Her memory is not in just one generation, but many.
Her gift, I treasure, it was the gift of love left lingering.
Copyrighted: December 2016 CMM
Eagle and Child Inkling 