The little goblins have left their mark
their ghastly decor glows in the dark
They are prepared for the spooky nights,
witches and ghost and lots of frights.
The purple haze glows all about,
cider brews until it is stout
Soon the long waiting will abate
days grow shorter, darkness stays late.
So walk among the Halloween’s play
Come and see but do not stay.
It is meant to make you scared
for all the ‘trick or treats’ who dare.
© CMM 2020
A magic orange, a pick’s delight,
An Autumn prize, a beautiful sight.
A lot of love was chosen that day
among the gourds and leaves and hay.
Which one to chose and take home
a prize that stands out alone.
Now it sits with lights adorned
Right next to the dish with candy corn.
copyrighted: CMM 2020
The old red barn
Has lost some charm
The bare cupboards
sound alarm .
As the day of plenty
Is now in the past
The smell of yesterday
Somehow still last
Handkerchiefs are gone
Crochet by hand
The tiny baskets
No longer stand
The apples still ripen
And the pears still fall
Mask are all worn
But not by all
Poets and artist
Will record this time
When people passed
And the need to be kind.
©. CMM. 2020
“Speak to me olé muse and through me tell the story” —Homer
An autumn morning with
crisp awareness of summer past.
Brings to memory how
the saints soon hover and last.
Orange pumpkins lay to rot
Along the porch and drive.
While chapel bells ring
calling ‘All Souls’, who still survive.
Copyright © CMM 2018
“What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.”
― Charles Baudelaire
A slip, a footing,
both pent against the wedge of panic’s doom.
A slice of electrical surge
crippling my stance.
Yanking the distorted foot
out of its pitted doom,
it stops me,
A balance of consciousness,
a throbbing searing surge,
I step broken
one in front of the other.
Stepping into the climb,
one step, then two; more.
Top of the stairs,
a morose pause, then endurance—
I continue on to class.
© Christine McNeill-Matteson 2000