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

Morning Stars


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 14233064_10210636106047878_896075811917925913_n

Impending Storm

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


Home Coming


img_1215I 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


We have walked into

our beginnings as far as

we can go…

now the sea calls us each to our purpose,

all that is left is to climb…

©Christine McNeill summer 2004

(dedicated to Jonathan the most wonderful

son )

Morning on the Shores



Morning on the shores

brings you back to the place where

you can hear sunrise

in sequential order of

light, flight and the rush of tides…


it is then I pray.

Sea and Free Will

Sea and Free Will

I am never more at peace,

soul, never so restless,

mind, never so engaged,

heart, never so brimming,

body, never so awake…

As it is

with sand slipping under my feet,

salt left on my skin from the sea’s wind.

the white aquatic seagulls call an echo,

behind the albatross breaking dawn…

to the heart of my beginnings.

copyrighted: CMM 2003



Salty Swells arrive,

tide splashing, rocky shoreline

lone poet stays watch…

Copyrighted: CMM 2000

Light House

The Light House

I dared to climb
this Baldhead light
with stones and only stairs

The rickety stairs
the rackety sounds
was I brave enough to dare

Her open belly empty
from years gone by,
smelled dampen, musky old.

The ripened stilted wood stairs
went on forever,
dirt and mossy mold

One height, two
the stairs went on
ceaseless they seemed to grow

Two height, three
the rickety sounds,
the top, where did it go

Four height, five
reaching into the sky
I could only see more ahead

Six height, seven
Light has appeared
Given way from the feeling of dread

Finally when all seemed
hopelessly high,
the light reached atop

Globe, the bulb
the watchful eye,
we had summit the final stop

The island was seen
from miles around,
with sea in each direction

From fields and houses
beaches and mounds,
the island of varied sections.

We left the Baldhead Island
that day, sensing the past
and the sights

But the beauty one
could not see, were times gone
of channel lights

sailors and seamen
who knew when she signal
they were home and soon a shore

The welcoming of
the Baldhead Light
given safety; we ask no more.

Christine McNeill
© Summer 2004