Paradox

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I enter into today with the celebration of loss and love —ed9ca-photo-218

I cherish your bedside as we said good bye and

All I could do is cry

It has been five years and your sweet desperation breathed between two places

Your eyes closed as some said the “Our Father” and others’  dark faces

Posturing, some told lies and some truths; you listened.

Reaching into the depths of the last moments, you closed your eyes

For the last time you pulled from a place we all know only once in time

You called out ” I love you.” The room quieted

copyrighted:  CMM  2016

Another Place

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I walk upon the canvas

the gray and green elephants 

walk around me. 

Always in dimensional lights

of bright and then dim

the gathering of familiar faces

was all that I could see. 

I look to see upstairs to find

and you were not there. 

I continued down the stairs 

the face of your adversary 

standing fatter and pompous.

A distant call was hung into space

I heard the gritty sound of ignorance,

I heard the sound of disgrace.

I never saw but knew.

I asked this fatter one where,

where were you? 

He turned to another and gave directions

I could no longer contain the pain,

as I beat upon his chest and

cried with years of disdain…  

Copyrighted:  CMM 2016img_1051

Sisters

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Valentine’s Day

I tried to cry but the pain was there

I felt the hour of our shared despair

Sisters bleed as time turned gray

Mingled tears from another day

A mother gone so much not said

A wilted memory and sadness shed

A soft word in a written note

A longing shared our grasps  remote

Sisters bleed as time turned gray

Mingled tears for another day .

Copyrighted:  2016 CMM

A Poem

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If I wrote among the willows would the earth receive my tears ?

Would the roots gather moisture and return the pain of years ?

If I dry my tears with ashes and wipe my anguish with moss,

would the day seem less melancholy and the passing less a loss ?

Be with me a moment and  I will gather in the rain

All the earth of my humanity and the lightening of my pain …

copyrighted:  CMM  2014

Yeats

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Yeats in his epitah does say,

 

chiseled in stone of gray

 

 

“If there is one left to cry,

 

horseman pass me by.”

 

 

Trojan men, painted clone,

 

equestrian power, chiseled stone.

 

 

Oh, steed the poet’s cry,

 

witness to the final sigh.

 

 

The pen, the ride, united quest,

 

invites you near, as their guest.

 

 

But when the final blow does come,

 

please leave by in open run.

 

 

I will in spirit lope to see,

 

all the poets following me.

 

 

copyright: CMM

I Will Never Forget

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 Washington DC putting flowers on Mom's gravephoto
Touching the ground, wet grass, and still morning.
You lie beneath my feet, feet that feel  as though
they are sinking into the very void of your presence.
Leaving barren ground to follow without you,
holy ground,  hallow feelings of yesterday.
You do not exist in temporal tomorrows of living everyday.
I kneel, to keep from swaying in the feelings of uncertainty.
I want to lie and sleep near you, to feel you again.
A fragment of time, going and gone, and soon to be gone again,
I mix the moisture of the day with the moisture of my tears.
In the passing of life as I seek to find reason,
I bow my head to pray. I feel the swelling of life and death
fertilize the ground inside my grounding, so that I may never forget.
© CMM 2011

The Last Poem

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(written by a friend who lost his battle with cancer)

(RIP  Jan. 2011)

I have started to cry

causing tears up over my eyes,

but few come out.

A silence spreads

a bit of waiting for new breath,

my face looks up again.

It passes,

tears wiped away,

it passes.

© July 17, 2009

The Book

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I picked up your book,

left behind as a gift.

Professor Doo Wop's PoemphotoI thought how nice.

Now you have left,

and I think so nice I have the book .

I have the letter you wrote with such eloquent words,

full of philosophy and reason.

Now you are gone and the reason seems mute,

and the philosophy unfulfilled.

Combing my fingers over the checkmarks,

bringing me to attention to the tributes

you made to me, and us, and our friendship.

I feel you presence pour inside of me

and I know.

There is no book, no letter of reason,

no quote of philosophical works

that replace your having died without reason.

©  CMM  2013

Coffee Shop Poetry

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Voices came in sizes and inflections
telling their lives in all directions.

Stories of anger, mothers and life,
sexual encounters and academic strife.

Nationalities were all represented,
each as they stood an presented.

Works of art in a smoke filled room,
coffee ordered and quickly consumed.

Listeners listened and interpreted the verse
some as a blessing, some as a curse.

Emotions were heightened as one gesticulation
stood on the edge of suicide or elation.

Others subdued in memories of war,
while others recalled the evenings they scored.

Readers and audience like me were all strange,
as we take words and life and uniquely arrange.

Then step to the mic, they gave up their soul,
from the very young to the seasoned and old.

My hair caught the smell of smoke in the air
while I listened and captured the love and despair.

I turned in the end and stood to see
they all were a fraction of reflection of me.

Copyrighted: CMM 2004