3:00 a.m., the whistle blows hauntingly through a thick still night. 

I thought, how it is a reassuring sound from the past to the present,

Makes everything seem normal or at least safe as normal should feel.

The darkness allows you to pretend the sound is being made from anytime.

Time of the little brick house with wasp escaping through the stone fireplace.

Or, an infant crying to be fed and nurtured back to sleep.  

Or, the present time, the darkness allowed my thoughts to travel.

The sound allowed my mind to go on into the memories of any time before.

Sounding one last time, it disappears into nothingness and all is quiet.

Just the darkness. left from minutes past 3:00 a.m. 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Before the pain,

there was laughter 

sharing of wits

the morning after 

before the pain 

there were smiles

all night conversations

lingering for a while

before the pain

she felt safe to know

he was  there

they would grow 

before the pain

all was everything

no needs 

before the pain 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

The middle aged professor with half a balding spot

stands upon his desk yelling expletives and nots’.

The ‘f’s’ and the ‘f’s’ don’t you understand,

‘malfunctioning world, is as I explain of man.’

After all I am brilliant and have a degree,

some call me elitist, some a pedigree.

You are the fools that sit here in your desk,

as I postulate and rage without your protest.

I have lost my semblance of professional and poise,

you will hear me teach and it only sounds like noise.

Where do we get these educators yelling at the youth,

claiming this is intelligence and pretending it is couth.

Disorganized and frayed, they walk late into the class,

wasting money called tuition, they bleed from the mass.

So please Mr. Professor, get down from your chair,

try to get outside yourself and pretend you care.

Try to think we have value and a few little brains,

impart your wisdom and learn to pronounce our names.

Copyrighted:  2006  CMM

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

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