Poe’s Legacy
As I read Poe’s Chagrin
Captured Raven mystic within
Dark night knocking and blows the wind.
The spooky shadow he does write
Among the eve of hallows fright
Years go by and he is gone
Yet his words this night belong
Quotes always the raven more
Among the dark hallows yore.
CMM. Copyrighted: 2021
The Pumpkin
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
Apple Farm
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
All Souls
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
Summer’s Ending
summer’s ending
the leaves are drying
the wind is softer,
the heat subsiding
it is as if
they all agree
that summer’s ending
drop down your leaves
moisture is lost
the darkness takes hold
the larger birds balk
the mosquitos are bold
summer’s ending
I feel Autumn say
the days will be shorter
as limbs now sway
to welcome the Fall
stilled by the heat
it won’t be long
it is Autumn’s sweep.
Copyrighted: 2017 CMM
Autumn
Our weather is turning — our clocks will change.
Life will get shorter and time rearrange.
We will fade and the children will take their turn,
watching life pass and working to earn.
Only to be where we are now,
no slower no faster with reflections somehow.
© CMM 2015
Second City
Second City
“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
Broken
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,
I wait.
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
Eagle and Child Inkling 