poetry

I watched a friend take her last breath today.

We prayed, ‘Hail Mary’ and the “Our Father’

Then she passed…

I miss her terribly.

Unfair, at least to my understanding now.

Unfair to me.

She was fried chicken,

Hometown laughter,

Short streets.

She was “riding around”,

Coca cola,

Music on the radio.

We talked of ‘new loves’,

With new hopes,

As we shared our dreams.

She was simpler times,

Long phone calls,

Sharing all…

She was late night rescue,

Stranded from dates

Gone bad.

She was laughter at oddity

Of pregnant bodies

And invisible feet…

She was death,

The painful recognition of

The ugliness of disease…

She was the beauty

Of the spirit, shinning past

All the let-downs of cancer…

She was a lifetime friend

You never ask for,

Only recognize a lifetime late…

As I sit by her bed,

Watching her breath,

And my tears are for me.

Copyrighted:   2016 CMM

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 CMM

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 2016

I tried to cry but the pain was there

I felt the hour of our shared despair

Sisters bleed as time turned gray

Mingled tears from another day

A mother gone so much not said

A wilted memory and sadness shed

A soft word in a written note

A longing shared our grasps  remote

Sisters bleed as time turned gray

Mingled tears for another day .

Copyrighted:  2016 CMM

I woke this morning and over my head

Hung glitter of stars while I was in bed

The dipper was titled just enough to see

The constellations spilled all around me

Stars hung so close to the morning sea

No beginning, no end from the stars and me

Copyrighted:  2016 CMM 

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

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

I go to the ocean

To listen

I go to the sea

To find the lost me

I go to the shores

To hear the waves pray

wet sand caress my feet

The wind to lift my hair

I go to the place

My beginnings to renew

Whirling around me free

I have missed you my friend; the sea.

Copyright:   CMM  2016

She remembers the clothesline just off the kitchen window.

Lined against the bushes of lilacs all blooming in the spring.

Straight lines of coiled wire touching brown decaying wood post.

Each week she would see the lady of the house hang lovely colors,

different shapes and sizes of shirts and pants and little girl’s dresses.

Blues would mix with the pinks and reds, but the whites were always

separate from the others so not to allow the dye to run on them. 

Deep in the summer south the hot wind would bend and sway

against the flag of colors left out to dry until right before afternoon sun.

She then would gather them and fold and lay them in a straw basket

bringing them into the house; the smell would be of the out of doors.

copyrighted:  2016 CMM

The crystal clings. with toast of things, remembered from the year.

The wine pours red and we nod our head to loved ones, we hold dear.

A kiss held softly an embrace held tightly, all to say, ‘I love you.’

The moment of kindness of auld lang syne, with feelings of old and new.

Embrace the old man who now lifts his staff among the stars of time…

We pray to the mystery of luck and fortune let’s sing to auld lang syne.