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
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.
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.
Echo without vibrations,
muted sounds, never heard; but felt.
copyrighted: CMM 2002
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
Close their borders
To human dignity
Guns firing while
Color of skin
Makes up of worth
Old people disregarded
There was Harvey
Copyrighted: 2017 CMM
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,
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
A voice so loud, I do remember,
Early evening, in late December
“Ho ho ho”, with a thunderous caugh,
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
If you have a moment before the New Year, this is truly worth the moments it takes to view. It is a wonderful rendition of “It’s a Wonderful Life” with the past and the new.
Smile in remembering and smile in knowing… not much has changed.
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
Copyrighted: 2009 CMM/ photo 2000 CMM