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

Keat’s Rose


Keats spoke of a rose and how it would not wilt.

This rose came only once and was not made of silk.

PIcked among a garden this one unique rose,

taken from the thorns, this flower she chose.

Sat upon his desk, and nurtured from the stems,

drenched in water, cut in a vase, and looking back at him.

He called the rose loveliest of any in his fences,

this rose compared to others, they had no defenses.

However the secret of this rose was not from one attending.

The secret of its beauty was truly from its sending.

This rose he said was more because a friend gave way,

now the beauty of the perfect rose was given to him today.

Swelling powdered scents flowed in the house and settled,

crimson velvet sculptured rose, green stem among the petals.

Beauty in its temporal form in nature’s moment bloomed,

eternal rose, deep within was nurtured to the tomb.

copyrighted:  2007

The Day of Valentine


Oh, but the heart that has labored love

in laced valentine’s of past.

Cutting out the ribbons of red,

to give in hopes that love will last.

The confectionaries create their wares

and boxed in all heart’s and sizes.

As anticipation builds in

the expectant heart she prizes.

The day will wear and waiting passes.

How will the promise come?

The time for many and then a few

but, from the hopeful one?

© CMM  2012

Love According to Shakespeare


Shakespeare in his bloomers svelte
wrote of love and how he felt.
Yet he seemed to be confused
even in his witty muse.

He loved a lady fair with scarlet,
yet he often referred her harlot.
He loved a young male of letters wrote,
but begged him times a sorrowful note.

His mind of genius and of words,
repeated times are often heard.
In plays and sonnets and in verse,
thespians memories do rehearse.

So goes his thoughts of madness,
the soulful writer’s joy and sadness.
A Valentine’s Day of day’s remembrance
seek out your own Shakespearean semblance.

Copyrighted: 2007 CMM
Photo Copyrighted: 2003 CMM

(Dedicated to my son, and his Shakespearean Studies)

Valentine’s Day


 
Oh, but the heart that has labored love
    in laced valentine’s of past.
Cutting out the ribbons of red,
    to give in hopes that love will last.
The confectionaries create their wares
     and boxed in all heart  sizes.
As anticipation builds in
     the expectant heart she prizes.
The day will wear and waiting passes.
     How will the promise come?
The time for many and then a few.
But, from the hopeful one?
© CMM  2012