Cowlick


I was born with a cowlick,

as they say in the South

It is nowhere related

to parts of a mouth.

If you looked real close

nothing laid down.

Hair stood up everywhere

even the crown

People would notice

then look away.

See only the  pretty girls

no cowlicks, got to stay.

But, even born with a cowlick

isn’t too bad.

Cause it won’t make you happy

and it won’t make you sad.

That’s got to come way deep inside

learning to take cowlicks  all in stride.

©   CMM   2012

She and the Sea


Her soul needed refreshing 

she returned to the sea

when the waves came, her troubles leave

her hair played with the wind

her smile swept across her face

she felt the universe give back her grace

early morning from darkness to light

rise into colors of orange, pink, reds 

she nodded and watched, no words said

Her soul needed refreshing 

she returns always to the sea

where the waves come, her troubles leave 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

3:00 A. M. Whistle


3:00 a.m., the whistle blows hauntingly through a thick still night. 

I thought, how it is a reassuring sound from the past to the present,

Makes everything seem normal or at least safe as normal should feel.

The darkness allows you to pretend the sound is being made frimg_2958-2om anytime.

Time of the little brick house with wasp escaping through the stone fireplace.

Or, an infant crying to be fed and nurtured back to sleep.  

Or, the present time, the darkness allowed my thoughts to travel.

The sound allowed my mind to go on into the memories of any time before.

Sounding one last time, it disappears into nothingness and all is quiet.

Just the darkness. left from minutes past 3:00 a.m. 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Lost Valentine


Before the pain,

there was laughter 

sharing of wits

the morning after 

before the pain 

there were smiles

all night conversations

lingering for a while

before the pain

she felt safe to know

he was  there

they would grow 

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before the pain

all was everything

no needs 

before the pain 

Copyrighted:  2017 CMM

Four Poster Bed


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,

were all we had known.

Grandparents adjusting

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

Young Man’s American Dream


 

Opening day, it’s now time to play, the game found in cornfields and parks.

American way, a game that will stay, the home run you want before dark.

Hammering’ Hank, Mickey, the Yankee Clipper, Smokey Joe, and all the greats,

brings every little boy hopes and dreams as he enters for the first time their gates.

 

DiMaggio and Galvin echoes at the bat as America starts the baseball season’s fun.

Major Leagues, Minors, town teams and little leagues all strive for the famous home run.

A moment of summer in sweltering heat, the sun changes position at your back,

Let’s cheer our team and share a time of America with peanuts in a paper sack.

 

One, Two, Three Strikes “You’re Out”,they yell as another approaches the bat.

Root toot, toot for the home team, as the dust cloud forms at the mat…

 

copyrighted: 2001 CMM