Invitation


let’s have a conversation

no, not a wish list to reply

let’s go somewhere and listen

we can laugh or we can cry

let’s stop and say nothing

or just smell the air around

let’s have a conversation

or never make a sound

what is really of value

is you are here for me

and I am always seeking

to have a conversation

a time to sit and be…

 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Women Before


If I could pick up the pieces

and build a bridge from me to you, 

we’d brush our hair with scents of yesterday’s living,

color our lips with stains of mauve secrets.

There would be miles of many years,

across miles of tears and sacred truths. 

We’d hang the railings with aprons tied together,

and our bras that covered our bosoms of nurturing souls.

Bridging over rivers from birthing beds wet with sweat and fluids from the womb, 

we would cry the storms with tears of sorrow, spring rains with tears of joy.

If I could pick the pieces of all our pain and build the hopes with the strength remain,

we would hear the chorus of all before us and harmony welcome  those to come.

Waterlogue 1.1.2 (1.1.2003) Preset Style = Illustration Format = Medium Format Margin = None Format Border = Straight Drawing = Technical Pen Drawing Weight = Light Drawing Detail = Medium Paint = Natural Paint Lightness = Normal Paint Intensity = More Water = Tap Water Water Edges = Medium Water Bleed = Average Brush = Natural Detail Brush Focus = Everything Brush Spacing = Medium Paper = Watercolor Paper Texture = Medium Paper Shading = Light

copyrighted:  2012

Christmas Tea


Brown aroma filters through

the porcelain pot wrapped in

a  holiday Christmas print

unknownTea covey placed around,

Tied at the top with a green ribbon.

Pouring into the cup the sound

of generations past of many pourings,

expressed  within generations,

a knowing of shared time.

The warmth of the spiced tea

brought smiles caused by conversations,

of simpler  relationships in an eloquent

fluent exchange of Christmas gentility.

Christmas 2013 copyrighted: CMM

The Path


Wet morning sand stick to my feet

 

while brown seaweed breaks into my path.

 

I travel to my beginnings toward the sea.

 

Watchful without pretention or notice

 

sounds of waves crashing and wind blushing

 

past me, as I step into the path.

 

On the shores morning and evening meet always.

 

Reflection of all time before me, and after me,

 

will continue long after my footprints are no longer

 

wet to my feet; deep into my path.

 

Copyrighted:  2016 CMMimg_1107

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

Midnight Sea


Midnight and the sea and wind plays just inside the moon.

Beacons flicker on the horizon to remind the sea the ships wait until morning light.

Unseen Artist’s brush sweeps white froth clouds  against a midnight sky.

The poet listens to the wind’s promise to bring a rain shower to lead the dance.

The dust of the day , the worry of tomorrow finds a journey into a healing crescendo.

Copyright:  2016 CMM

img_1140

Invitation


img_0570

let’s have a conversation

no, not a wish list to reply

let’s go somewhere and listen

we can laugh or we can cry

let’s stop and say nothing

or just smell the air around

let’s have a conversation

or never make a sound

what is really of value

is you are here for me

and I am always seeking

to have a conversation

a time to sit and be…

Copyrighted:  CMM  2016