In My Garden


There are secrets in my garden

You need but walk a piece

You will stumble on a flower

And a butterfly at ease

Walk but just a couple steps

You almost see them grow

The purple and the yellow

But please walk a little slow

There are secrets in my garden

A prairie dog you might  see

A pansy or a daisy

However please be quiet

Not to disturb the frog so lazy

Or the fountains where angels sit

I invite you in my garden

Where joy is laid and kept

Copyright:  2017 CMM

Another Place


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

Among the Stars


   A Dream

white moons hang next to one another

bringing heaven’s presence and earthy observer

to notice…

Hanging like large bulbs lighting existence,

closer and closer they merge into one light

colliding …

looking across the way into the darkness

the moon dust falls light on a field of magnificent emerald

green elephants…

they move as though dancing without music,

gracefully they silhouette around the other

peacefully moving…

again I look upon the heavens and the moons

have separated again, white light emerging

toward the other…

cataclysmic they collide once again,

burst into a million stars

the heavens reflect…

Blue Moon

Christine McNeill-Matteson

June  2015

The Recipe Box


The Recipe Box

The Recipe Box

 

Opening up the old rubbed wooden box

 

I smelled time lingering from recipes of the past.

 

Shoved into in a hurried way of schedules and life

 

I pulled a hand full of recipes tattered and unorganized.

 

Sifting through in hopes to find a recipe to add to a menu

 

for a friend who is sitting in a hospital room with her mate.

 

A mate of 50 years now succumbed to life and cancer.

 

I look to see which one will do, and as I do, I see names.

 

These were the names of friends from a lifetime,

 

friends who shared a moment and then left a recipe to remember.

 

Friends much like the ones who are holding the hand of each other

 

waiting for life to say good-bye until another time.

 

I look at the names and realize the box has become a eulogy of friends,

 

the recipes reflecting their personality, their smiles, their life.

 

I feel as though it brought me to a sacred place, of time, sharing,

 

a holy place of scents and smells forgotten, but not their presence.

 

© Copyrighted:   CMM  2015

A Poem


 

 

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

Friends For LIfe



I shared with her my plans and schemes,

 

she shared with me her hopes and dreams.

 

 

Together we grew and then apart,

 

but apart we never forgot the start.

 

 

The start of what would one day be

 

a friendship for life, as we look back to see.

 

 

Mistakes we made and mountains we climbed,

 

didn’t take away the precious times.

 

 

We had when we were young and foolish,

 

dressed in hippie and rock style goolish.

 

 

Play house tucked between two trees,

 

went from ‘make believe’ to club house fees.

 

 

Cokes spilt as it fizzed to the top,

 

not being able to find the mop.

 

 

Burning pots in our effort to cook,

 

parents stood and trembled and shook.

 

 

The skating rink, and many a miles

 

as we skated and danced with youthful smiles.

 

 

The teen club, with all its rocking songs,

 

giving us a sense that we belonged.

 

 

Belonged of a generation confused from war,

 

with racial strife the turmoil we bore.

 

 

Our days became families and then children to rear,

 

the days we lived, the battles we feared.

 

 

From growing up in uncertain times,

 

didn’t seem to change or deter our minds.

 

 

From returning to what was always to be

 

a friend close in time we’d see.

 

 

The treasures of childhood, the journey or strife

 

is always best accompanied by a friend for life.

 

 

copyright: CMM 2005running early