Listening


She was listening
voices around her unaware
she lies in waiting
she was listening
to the tears
the consolations
she was listening
when someone whispered
to her, I love you.
listening to the voices
leaving the room for a moment
and then she left…
Copyrighted:  CMM   2017

A Poem


she pauses, you are lucky,

(not that you did not earn it)

she corrects herself

I turn pause, and hold my tongue

Regrets, old people are so full

of melancholy , anger and antagonism

looking about, comparing

sniffling into the past choices

trying to eliminate the differences

from the closest to them

at all cost wanting the tally

to be even or the same

Time is a teacher of the cruelest

yet we wear it through life

thinking it can be silenced

until all is taken, the voice becomes

louder, and louder without remorse

Copyrighted:  CMM  2017

Knell Bell


Ash, fallen losing its form,

drifting to places—

Places once given to life

now void in the body.

Blemished leavings of

perfect love and life—

Spent time, celebrations

now void in the mind.

Consciousness

to awareness made up

of dreams and hopes,

now void in the soul.

The ticking of the clock,

the clanging echoing,

noises made in the senses,

now void in the hearing.

Spoken words of promise

of heart felt memories

devoted love forever—

now void in heart.

We have heard many

warnings, sounding often

in the distance, never noticed—

until we hear the ringing.

Knell bell

final sounding—

Echo without vibrations,

muted sounds, never heard; but felt.

copyrighted: CMM 2002

As If It Was Not Enough


As if it was not enough

The confusion in streets

Bullying on lines

As children hide

In homes of fear

Economic strains of

Success and failure

While countries

Close their borders

To human dignity

Guns firing while

Children falling

People dying

Without reason

Without notice

Color of skin

Makes up of worth

Marginalized women

Old people disregarded

Then, then

There was Harvey

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Four Poster Bed


That four poster bed and me at the foot…

was the beginnings of beginnings

and the irony it took.

My Mother’s plight to come back home,

when our Father’s fights,

were all we had known.

Grandparents adjusting

and opening their doors,

no one needed to sleep on the floor.

The nights we laid, kittens in bed,

me at the foot,

as they snuggled at the head.

Quilts laid busy acoss us just right,

four poster jammed,

with three quite a sight.

As we grew older and given each a bed,

I will never forget the four poster bed,

me at the foot and they at the head.

I wonder in life when all things askew

and the trials I endured

whether old or renewed.

If being at the foot of this bed

gave me the will to survive,

in keeping my head.

© CMM 2002

Santa Came Too Soon


A voice so loud, I do remember,

 

Early evening, in late December

 

“Ho ho ho”, with a thunderous caugh,

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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

 


Bleached white and muted grey wood line

Covered with spots of unthawed snow,

Patches of green grass left from summer.

The smoky grey morning clouds hang heavy

As the morning light breaks into a shadow cast.

Winter has taken hold into arctic temperatures

And still nature stays attentive to coming storms.

Sitting at my desk I am taken aback as one brave

Bird dares to break the silence and sing of spring

Summer Smiles



Deeper and deeper I break blacken crumbles of packed soil.

Closer and closer the earth warms wiggle in welcome,

bringing a hallow depth of wet disrupted places.

Spring’s garden now silent from the sun,

now further into the soil given way.

There are welcomes new beginnings

from the yellow petals

the sprouting

smiles

the

Daisy.

Copyrighted: 2009 CMM/ photo 2000 CMM